Chapter Text
Around West 20th Street was a quaint coffee shop called Kaffeeklatsch . It was a place that Carol Aird frequented every Sunday afternoon when her heart’s only desire was to enjoy a warm cup of the city’s best espresso (according to her) while immersing herself on every metaphor of a poetry book from her extensive collection of literature. Sundays were something that she always looked forward to, not because the rest of the week seemed like an endless stream of consistency for her, but Sundays, she said, carried a certain feeling that time had promised to stand still with grace even for just a while; it allowed for one to bask in that impending, craved moment as if the rest of the week had been a drought and in this very day came rain.
The fickle October skies hovered above the city with concrete-colored clouds lurking in the corners. It was 2:42 in the afternoon when Carol checked her phone to see if her friend, Abby had responded to her messages. To her dismay, no notifications showed up on her screen. Abby was supposed to meet her at ‘klatsch for more than an hour ago, yet here she was sitting alone by the window overlooking the intersection of a crowded street. Amidst the noise and the chatter that enveloped the place, she continued reading her book as she took a sip from her second cup of coffee.
She shouldn’t have come here. That was the thought running through Therese’s mind. The shop was packed with people today. Her eyes quickly surveyed the room for an empty seat but there seemed to be none. Therese lived in an apartment a couple of blocks away from the cafe. She was a regular of the shop. The baristas immediately knew her order: a latte with an extra shot (and they added more whipped cream because they knew she loved it). Of all the places in New York City, she had to grab her cup of latte here in one their busiest hours. Why can’t she just go to another coffee shop? After all, she always gets her coffee fix here when she’s on her way to her work during weekdays. Why not try and discover new ones? She sighed to herself, but with a glimpse of the beautiful blonde sitting alone by the corner, she knew why.
The gorgeous blonde woman came often at Kaffeeklatsch. Therese knew this because the tall and slender would sometimes sit at her favorite spot. She was always left with consternation on not getting to sit on the corner where she could get a vantage point of both the shop and the street adjacent to it. She liked to watch people from that spot--well, not in a creepy way. When she developed a fondness for photography, a friend once told her that she should be more interested in humans--again, not in a creepy way. From then on, she wanted to capture those raw moments in people when time seemed to stand still for them--their thoughts unmasked and immortalized in photographs. Therese's constant sighting of the woman eventually led to a kind of attraction.
No, it was not attraction, she believed.
That seemed a bit off...
Intrigue might be a better word for it.
Therese recalled the times she had seen her. The blonde was always well-dressed, and her lips, rouged with a sort of Hollywood red. When she wasn't alone and consumed in her reading, she was sometimes with a friend whom she seemed to have a good laugh with. There was one time she had a little girl with her though. A niece? A daughter perhaps? Therese wondered.
Therese was intrigued by the woman who carried herself with distinct grace and poise. Her movements, it seemed to her, were so swift and deft-- the way she brushed her blonde hair away from her face, the manner in which her tapered fingers leaped through her book, how she cupped her hand on her beverage. There was some inexplicable, hypnotic thing that made Therese want to immortalize the woman in photos, the muse in her mind’s eye.
After getting her drink from the counter, she once again carefully scanned the room for unoccupied seats. There was one empty seat beside a group of loud college students but that certainly won’t do. The other one was a seat across the blonde woman. It was the obvious choice but she felt precarious. She had seen the woman very often, and it was indeed true that she wished to get to know her, but she hesitated.
The brunette sheepishly walked towards the table with her latte in hand.
“Excuse me. Is this seat taken?”
Carol looked up from her book and met the eyes of the younger woman. She pondered as to whether to give the seat to her or not. Her companion had not arrived, and she’s starting to believe that she never will.
“Seat’s all yours, darling.”
Darling.
The endearment made Therese’s heart leap although it occurred to her that she might just be taking it out of context. Nevertheless, she couldn’t hide the smile that formed on her face.
Darling.
She said it once in her mind again as she took a sip from her drink and gazed out in the busy street.
The woman’s voice was sultry but cordial. She was even more beautiful up-close, she thought to herself. An alluring air hung over her. Therese felt like a child every time she stole glances from the woman. She contemplated on starting a conversation-- perhaps something about the charming interiors of the shop? The boiseries and the constant jazz serenades bursting out from the vintage speakers? What about the weather? That’s always a conversation starter. Therese gave her companion one more look but she seemed too engrossed in her reading so she decided against having to be a bother. Instead, she brought out her phone and perused the photographs she had taken recently. One, a photo of her friend Dannie McElroy with a burning cigarette clenched between his teeth, and another, a photo of a busker playing her violin in Washington Square Park. A thick whipped cream mustache formed on the top of her lip after she imbibed her coffee. Just as she was about to lick it, the woman looks up and catches her. She shook her head as a sly smile formed on her rouged lips. Therese felt the blood rushing through her cheeks as she wiped her mouth. She knew she couldn’t get herself to steal glances from the woman anymore.
Every now and then Carol would glance up at the brunette. She felt the unspoken words in between their silence with the way she found herself drifting off from her reading and being mesmerized with the young woman’s features. Her eyes were like a pair of emeralds drowned in so much life and burgeoning curiosity of the world. Her rosy cheeks radiated the jubilance of her youth. Her exquisite hands held anything within her reach with such gentleness. Her mouth, steadily pursed-- like she seemed to be the type of person so cautious with the words that flew out of them. Carol presumed the young woman to be too fixated on her phone to be able to notice her, but little did she know Therese’s heart was doing all sorts of somersaults from feeling a mixture of slight embarrassment from her whipped cream mustache and the ironic tension and eagerness to strike up a conversation with her. Carol turned to the final page. It contained her favorite verse from a poem.
“ Did you love well what very soon you left? ” Carol unconsciously mouthed.
“Pardon me?” Therese suddenly looks up after having been pretentiously absorbed at a blurry photograph that she had mistakenly taken.
“It’s such a haunting line… It’s from this poem I’m reading, I mean.” Her eyes were still glued towards the book.
“Can you repeat the line?” She cleared her throat.
“Did you love well what very soon you left… Here it is.” Carol showed her the page and pointed at the very line. The younger woman’s eyes trailed the sonnet on the page with the book on her hands.
“I just think,” she began with a deep tone, “that one has never loved anything well when they decide to leave.” She takes a quick sip from her drink.
Therese was taken aback with the first conversation that she was having with her beautiful companion. She probably expected some small talk about the weather or the crowd or the drinks they were having, but not something as deep as this. She clasped her palms together as the words lingered within her.
“There are things in life you could be half-hearted about…” the woman continued, “but love, my dear, shouldn’t be one of it.”
Therese reflected on what she wanted to say in response, but she was left awestruck with what was happening. The woman right in front of her was beautiful and smart, and she gave such a fascinating aphorism (of all things) about love. She pursed her lips and read the line from the book once more. She felt her companion’s gaze on her, never straying away. She knew that as soon as she looked up and met her piercing eyes, she would be too stupefied to conjure up words.
“All of that’s true but,” Therese began, “it could be that one had already loved enough for that specific time, yet there is a possibility that one can even love better… in another time.” She finally glanced up at the pair of eyes she had evaded. “No love is ever wasted.”
The older woman studied her face after she gave her retort.
“I like the way you think...” she pauses, “your name, my dear?”
“Therese Belivet. Uhm, Therese…” she stuttered.
"And you are?"
"Carol Aird. It’s a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise.” Therese's cheeks slightly flushed as their hands gently touched. She swore they lingered longer than usual.
"So Therese Belivet...” it rolled out of her tongue like honey. Therese couldn’t help but smile. She was starting to adore hearing her name through Carol’s rich yet enigmatic voice. They both snapped out from their seeming trance was when Carol’s phone suddenly started ringing.
“Excuse me. I’ll have to take this.”
Therese nodded.
The tall, slender woman hastily stepped out of the cafe. Therese observed her from the window. She couldn't scrutinize the conversation, but the vivacity that was quickly drained from Carol's face made her anxious. Her semblance changed when she returned to her seat. Her eyes averted Therese’s gaze.
“I’m sorry, Therese, but I’ll have to leave you now.” A panic-stricken Carol began, now with a shaky voice . “My daughter was in an accident.”
Therese leaped to her feet. She was in a loss of words. All she could muster up to say was, “I hope it’s not too serious.” She wanted to punch herself for how seemingly insensitive the words flew from her mouth. She meant well.
Carol hurriedly gathered all her belongings and proceeded to walk away. Her gait, she noticed, even in a moment of distress still had a tinge of elegance to it. Therese wasn’t sure if she was dizzy because of the caffeine kicking in or the abruptness of things.
But through the disarray, there’s this one thing that she clearly remembered when Carol left. She glanced back at Therese one last time when she passed through the door as if she still had something to say. Her eyes, apologetic yet yearning. The way she warmly looked into her was like a perfect photograph eternally ingrained in her mind. The young woman’s gaze followed her into the busy streets where she hailed a cab and slowly dissipated into the throng. It’s a stupid thing to want to savor the presence of a person, Therese told herself, but those moments came so rarely in life-- she felt completely overwhelmed and she knew there were words to what she’s feeling but she was left without anything to say. Everything happened quickly, but to her, it was as if time stood still. She broke herself from her reverie and took a deep breath. She glanced down the table and realized that she had not returned Carol’s book. A slight panic arose from her. She wanted to run after Carol and return it to her, but it was too late.
She sat down and composed herself. She took one quick swig from her drink before she flipped back to the page where the words still lingered within her.
Did you love well what very soon you left?