Elin Hilderbrand - The Love Season

Renata smiled.

“Your mother brought a prescription of Valium with her, thank God. She gave me two, tucked me into bed, and I fell asleep. I woke up at four in the morning and made a pot of coffee. Your mother woke up, too, and sat with me in the dark kitchen, but neither of us spoke. We didn’t know what to say. It was like we’d known all along the sky was going to fall and then it fell and we pretended to be taken by surprise. Then Candace’s face brightened like she’d had some inspiration, like she’d devised some fool-proof way to get Porter back, to make everything right again. But she did the strangest thing. She insisted on cutting my hair. My hair hadn’t been cut since I was a child. Candace said, ‘ Time for a new look .’ Or a new outlook. Something like that. She’d cut her own hair that winter-it was short and she wore a bandanna to push it off her face. She wouldn’t let me say no. We pulled a chair over by the kitchen sink and your mother wrapped me up in an old shower curtain.”

Marguerite sat in the makeshift salon chair. As Candace wet her hair, massaged her scalp, combed the length, and snipped the ends, holding them up between two fingers, something dawned on Marguerite. Something transpired. Marguerite could barely breathe; the truth was so obvious and yet so startling. This was what she wanted, all she wanted, Candace here, her warmth, her voice in Marguerite’s ear. Marguerite filled with longing. It wasn’t Porter’s love she sought, and it hadn’t been, maybe, for years. Marguerite wanted Candace; she loved Candace. With Candace fussing and clucking around her, with Candace touching her, Marguerite experienced a new realm of emotion. It was terrifying but glorious, too.

“When she was finished, your mother blew my hair dry and styled it, and when she handed me the mirror I started to cry.”

Candace’s face had fallen apart. You hate it .

“I was crying; then I was laughing,” Marguerite said. “I put down the mirror and I took your mother’s hands and I told her that I loved her.”

I love you, too , Candace said. You’re the greatest friend I have .

The greatest friend I have . Marguerite faltered. Those had been Porter’s exact words and Marguerite thought, These are the words the Harrises use when they are leaving you .

I don’t care about Porter , Marguerite said. I loved the man dearly at one time, and we were intimate. Yes, we were .

You’re better off without him , Candace said. I’ve been wanting to say that since I arrived. You will be better off .

It doesn’t matter, Marguerite said. Because when I heard, when Porter told me, my heart cried out for you. You are the one person I cannot bear to lose. I love you. You are the one that I love. Do you hear what I’m saying? Do you hear?

Confusion flickered across Candace’s face. Marguerite saw it, though it only lasted a second. Did Candace understand what Marguerite was saying?

You’re the best person I know , Candace said. I can’t believe what my brother has done to you .

Say you love me , Marguerite said. Please say it .

Of course I love you. Daisy, yes .

I want you to love me , Marguerite said. I don’t know where this can lead. I Don’t know what I’m asking…

Candace’s hands were cold. Marguerite remembered that. She remembered the cold hands; her friend was frightened. Marguerite dropped the hands, and as soon as she did so Candace turned away.

I think I hear Renata , she said, though the house was silent.

You don’t want me , Marguerite said.

I don’t even know what those words mean , Candace said. What are you asking me for? You’re upset about Porter. He hurt you. You asked me to come and here I am. What else do you want me to say?

You don’t feel the same way that I do . Marguerite said.

What way is that? Candace said. Are you saying you’re in love with me?

Marguerite looked at herself in the mirror. The short hair now. She was a stranger to herself. What was she saying? Did she want to take Candace to bed, do things neither of them could imagine? Did love fall into categories, or was it a continuum? Were there right ways to love and wrong ways, or was there just love and its object?

I can’t help the way I feel , Marguerite said.

You don’t know how you feel. Right? Porter hurt you. You’re confused. Aren’t you confused?

I don’t feel confused , Marguerite said. I’m as sure about this as I’ve been about anything in my whole life. Since the second I met you, when you kissed me. I thought you were Porter’s lover, but you kissed me .

I kissed you , Candace said quickly, because I knew we were going to be friends .

Friends, yes. But more than friends. The hundreds of dinners, their mingled laughter, the walk through the moors, the winter evenings by the fire, the trip to Morocco. Candace there, that was all Marguerite had ever wanted.

It’s been since the second I met you , Marguerite said. This feeling .

You’re upset, Daisy. You don’t know what you’re saying .

You don’t feel the same way , Marguerite said. I’m an idiot to think you would. You have Dan. Dan and Renata. You belong to them .

Yes , Candace said. That’s right. But you’re my best friend and you have been for a long time. Things don’t have to change between us just because Porter’s gone. Don’t make them change, Daisy. Please. Do not .

Marguerite didn’t know what to say. Things had already changed. Marguerite had crossed a boundary; she’d handed herself over, a gift to someone who didn’t know what to do with it. No, not a gift, a burden. A woman nobody wanted. The girl in the mirror with the knobby knees.

“It was a big mess,” Marguerite said now, to Renata. “The messiest mess. I said things to your mother I should never have said. I loved her so immensely-and I wanted her to love me. She tried her best, but things were different for her. So she found herself stuck in this house with her best friend and this huge, unwieldy confession. Your mother would have done anything for me-she’d proved that just by showing up-but there was no way I could make her feel as I felt. There was no way. She tried to pretend everything was okay, that everything could go back as it was before, but we both knew it was impossible.”

Yes, Candace tried. She wiped Marguerite’s face gently with a dish towel, like Marguerite was the five-year-old. Then she gave Marguerite a long and beautiful hug. Looking back, Marguerite could see there was a good-bye in the hug, but she didn’t understand it then. She didn’t understand. Renata had started crying upstairs, and Candace went to her.

She needs me , Candace said.

Fourteen years spent thinking about it and yet there was no way to convey to Renata what had happened that morning. Marguerite said, “Here is the thing you need to know about your mother. Everyone loved her, everyone was drawn to her, but no one more than me. I loved Candace with my whole being. Do you have someone like that? The fiancé, maybe?”

“I thought I loved Cade,” Renata said. “I do love Cade. But it’s not like you described. Not with my whole being. I don’t even know who my whole being is.”

“You’re so young,” Marguerite said.

“I love my roommate, Action,” Renata said. “My best friend. I know it’s not the same. We’ve only known each other a year. But still, I feel like I would die without her.”