Eau de Vie: chapter seven
La cage aux folles
Vie had not left the ranch for nearly a week and was glad to be heading into town. She desperately needed a change of scenery and to people watch. The mountains were beautiful and full of life, and the ranch house a peaceful respite, but the reality was that Vie was isolated, and she had too much time on her hands to obsess about the news and politics, with no way to decompress or at least share her worry and angst. Carl had been working until late nearly every evening as there were only eight weeks remaining until election day, and his office was burdened with many last-minute details. He was barely making it home in time for dinner, a few pleasantries and then he sat on the corner of the couch reading the paper until his eyes closed, remaining bolt upright with the paper in hand. One had to look closely to understand why he was no longer contributing to the conversation.
On this particular evening, Carl was dead tired, and Vie most definitely was not, as she’d had the benefit of a late afternoon nap. Sad and dissatisfied, Vie had waited all day for his return, and now, even though Carl was back, she was still left to her own devices. After their favorite shows ended, Vie decided to leave Carl on the couch asleep. She poured herself a glass of wine and then enjoyed the rest of the bottle on the deck as she took in the sunset alone. She then made herself a bath and completed her nightly ablutions before heading to bed.
By the time Vie was done, it was late, and Carl had still not made his way to the bedroom. Vie was well beyond caring at this point. She turned off the lights and climbed under the duvet, immediately falling into a hypervigilant dreamlike state. Vie was walking across a long footbridge that spanned a deep, rippling, moonlit pond. The end of the bridge delivered her to a pitch-black tree tunnel where it was impossible to see her way forward. She walked blindly, tentatively putting one foot in front of the next, not knowing what to expect from step to step. There was an occasional rustling of something small amongst the dry fall leaves; a snake or mouse? Then something larger in the branches of a tree, one of which snapped and fell to the ground immediately in front of her. As her muscles began to burn from climbing an unseeable steep hill, the air grew eerily still, and Vie was left without a single sensation on which to gauge her whereabouts — just a premonition that she was now in a wide open space that was not fully knowable on this dark, now cloudy night. The only thing Vie knew for certain was that she was no longer on a path.
Vie emerged from her dream semi-conscious and attuned herself instead to the weight of her heavy stone. It was no longer next to her bed. It was now inside of her, in her chest cavity, the weight of it drawing her deeply and helplessly into the mattress. Akin to drowning, the weight of it was oppressive, making her breathing shallow, her pulse thready. The stone crowded out dreams and angst, worry, and the pining she felt for her husband. Vie could no longer resist sleeping any more than she could escape the heaviness of the thick layer of dread that hung over her. She headed unwillingly into a state as close to death as a sentient being can approach.
If only these thoughts could have been telepathically conveyed to Carl so that he might sense her anguish and slip into bed next to her. But Vie’s thoughts could not reach him because Carl, overwhelmed by Vie’s alcohol-fueled anger and frustration, had built an impenetrable wall around himself. Had he not done this, Vie’s decades of repression and the release of her pent-up fury, which was coming about now that she was in a weakened state, would have finished them.
On that very dark night, Carl was not there to comfort Vie. She had fallen asleep in their bed, alone with her stone. He, too, was alone, on the couch, surrounded by his stack of required reading, his mind processing the previous day’s work and creating a checklist of the next day’s tasks.
Vie’s heart ached unrelentingly from the weight of her stone. She had grown too weak to lift it and cast it to the side, her thin and useless arms clenched to her sides under the duvet, her right hand painfully gripping her left as they rested on her flat, hollow stomach.
Vie woke at the crack of dawn to find Carl had finally made his way to bed. Her night of darkness had passed and the sun was bright, the garden full of birds. She felt relieved at having made it back across the bridge. In the light of day, the mountains and woods and the paths carved into the hillside beckoned her. She had every reason to get out of bed and make a strong cup of coffee.
Vie had a voracious appetite that morning — this after not eating the day prior due to her anxiety over an especially upsetting news cycle. She texted Kate to see if she had any interest in meeting for breakfast and then joining her for an afternoon hike and overnight at the ranch. They could cook dinner together and watch movies.
Kate loved the idea and suggested breakfast at her house, then perhaps a stroll through the farmers market for a few provisions — some heirloom tomatoes and basil, a rotisserie chicken, and some purple potatoes for the evening’s meal. It all sounded perfect, and so their day was set. No more worrying about Carl — he had a full day of work, and being with Kate would keep Vie from obsessing about not having his company over the weekend.
Vie returned to the bedroom, quietly threw on her favorite cargo pants, a black turtleneck, and Ray-Bans, and then off she went. She quickly made her way down the hill, her zippy SUV shooting her into the heart of downtown, which was full of early risers — tourists and locals alike, some jogging and riding bikes, others sitting at café tables enjoying coffee and pastries in the crisp fall air. Vie was glad she wasn’t missing any of this — the bustle, the bright sunshine, and blue skies did her a world of good.
Kate’s house was just a few blocks off the square, where the farmers market vendors had their tents. Vie arrived at the cheery, compact bungalow to find Kate had already laid out a simple breakfast for the two of them: almond croissants, soft-boiled eggs, French press coffee. They scarfed down the food, grabbed some canvas bags, and off they set for the market, exchanging political banter as they walked. Already Vie felt the weight lifting. In fact, after an hour in Kate’s presence, it was nearly gone, as was the pressure behind her eyes. She was no longer focused on things over which she had no control, instead envisioning what they would assemble for dinner from the market. And because Kate was not privy to the details of Vie’s illness and her previously dark frame of mind, Kate carried on as she might have with any other close friend — a huge relief to Vie, who was not interested in anyone’s sympathy or pulling them into her dark place. With the little time she had left, Vie wanted to dwell in the functioning world, to see things with eyes that looked to the future. The only way to do that was to step out of that godforsaken place she was wont to travel and to be with people who were happy and had purpose in their lives.
The two women enthusiastically took in the sights and smells of the market, picking over pyramids of fresh produce to find the perfect herbs and a colorful array of fall tomatoes, some tiny and sweet as candy, others in variegated reds, greens, and yellows that were so large as to require two hands to hold. At the back of the market were vendors selling prepared foods, the most alluring emanating from the rotisserie truck where porchetta and whole organic chickens rotated on spits, their drippings flavoring the garlic-roasted potatoes below. Though they had originally thought to do chicken, Kate found the stuffed pork roast smelled irresistible, so dinner plans were altered slightly — the purple potatoes and tomato salad still on, but now a bottle of Sangiovese might be in order. Vie had the goods; problem solved.
As the morning wore on, Vie thought of Carl — of all he’d gone through as of late and how hard he’d been working. She imagined that his gentle and patient demeanor made him more vulnerable to her mood swings and that perhaps all of this was beginning to wear on him. It didn’t matter that she’d kept the worst of it from him. Carl was sensitive, and he had, no doubt, picked up on the deeper issues, even if he didn’t know the specifics.
Vie needed to take back something special for Carl, preferably something to satisfy his sweet tooth. Kate recommended the Italian vendor with the homemade pasta — he had killer tiramisu. Vie ended up buying an entire flat of the cake and requested two spoons. Before walking home, the women sat at a picnic table, cracked open a corner of the container, and dug in. The creamy espresso mascarpone concoction was heavenly, and within minutes, they’d eaten nearly a third of the cake. Vie didn’t worry for one second about her waistline — she was determined to enjoy every delicious thing she craved, while she could.
Back at Kate’s, the women packed their combined farmers market haul into a wine box. Kate then packed a few things for the weekend into her bright green duffle bag and off to the ranch they headed in Vie’s car.
As the women made their way up the hill to the house, the mountain scenery spread out before them in every direction. Wide expanses of chapparal flourished on slopes that were especially sunny and had outcroppings of spikey white rock. The impenetrable bushes of evergreen and manzanita, with their burnished red bark, were interspersed with woodlands of coast live oaks and valley oaks on the more softly rounded, grassy hills, ancient-looking trees whose craggy branches spoke to the challenges they had endured over the decades. There was nothing the women wanted more to do than to get out into this scenery and be one with it. They brought their things into the house, then set to work in the kitchen, whipping up a picnic lunch. The trail they would be taking was bright and sunny, also very rocky, so both donned wide-brimmed hats and proper hiking boots and off they went.
A few miles up the trail was a good place for picnicking, a grassy spot near a tall blue oak where the early afternoon sun at the right angle provided a nice patch of shade. The grass was tall, dry, and crunchy, but Vie had come prepared with a large square of tent canvas, which she spread over an area she had stomped down with her boots. She pulled out their salad and salmon, and ravenous, they put it back in minutes. Dessert was the small, tart apples Vie had gotten from her favorite vendor at the market and a couple of chunks of sharp Irish cheddar. After lunch was polished off, it felt too soon to leave this beautiful spot on the hill, so Kate rolled up the fleece jackets they brought for the return walk and made pillows of them, and the two of them stretched out under the clear blue skies, drinking in the coolish autumn air, enjoying the birds overhead. Both fell into a deep sleep.
Kate woke first, prompted by the chill of the early evening breeze the tide was pulling in through the estuary on the other side of the hill. The entire slope was now shady, the sun setting behind the mountains on the other side of the valley. Kate glanced over at Vie, who was lying on her side, deep in sleep, softly breathing, peaceful, and relaxed. It was an opportunity for Kate to take in her beauty, the sharp angles of her face, her prominent nose and high cheekbones, her coppery weathered skin and bristly, short cropped hair in golds and silver, her thin plum-colored lips with their gentle downward pout. It all went together, a symphony of subtle colors, shapes, and textures, perfectly orchestrated. Vie’s shoulders sloped downward, emphasizing her long, slender neck, below which her firm, small breasts and softly flat abdomen were outlined by a form-fitting, faded purple T-shirt. Her arms were tucked in close to her sides, forearms crossing over her chest, likely because she was chilly. Her knees were bent upward into a fetal position, all of this an unconscious attempt to stay warm now that the temperature had dropped precipitously.
Kate closed her eyes, creating an imprint of Vie’s beautiful face, then leaned in to gently kiss her awake, warmly cradling Vie’s face in her hands. It was getting late, and they needed to hit the trail or risk getting caught in the dark.
Vie woke, a bit startled and not remembering where she was. It took her a couple of minutes to orient herself, but once she did, she panicked, realizing they likely would not make it down the hill before being enveloped in darkness. Neither had brought phones or headlamps nor walking sticks. Kate quickly gathered up the picnic components and stuffed them into her backpack, then both women threw on their fleece jackets and together folded up the canvas covering. A few quick stretches, then down the hill they went at lightning speed, though cautiously on the gravelly bits. As predicted, they were soon in complete darkness, but they’d reached the footbridge that crossed the stream. They were near to home and could see the lights blazing.
Safely back at the house, Kate and Vie went directly to the bedroom to shed their sweaty hiking gear, with the goal of showering before putting together dinner. Neither had noticed Carl’s early return, though Vie knew that on Fridays, his office typically closed right at 5:00. Nor did Carl notice their return, as he was already decompressing with a hot outdoor shower and was not within earshot. Soon, there would be a not-so-unpleasant encounter — as two nude, laughing women headed his direction toward the shower. Carl looked up, and there they were in all their glory — an eyeful and then some.
Vie was the only one unprepared for this mixup. Kate, on the other hand, didn’t miss a beat. She boldly turned on the second showerhead and got right into the double stall, positioning herself immediately across from Carl, who had a difficult time averting his eyes, especially when she vigorously began lathering up every part of her body. Vie shot Carl a look of embarrassment, and he immediately took her cue, grabbing his towel and quickly throwing it around his waist, though his growing erection was difficult to hide. He then retreated to the bedroom, and when next they saw him, he was comfortably attired in sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt, no longer visibly aroused. All had a good laugh, Kate making light of the ranch’s clothing-optional ambiance.
In short order, dinner was laid out, the crusty porchetta gently warmed, roasted purple potatoes steaming and garlicky, with thick slices of heirloom tomatoes and basil on the side. Vie generously poured everyone a glass of Sangiovese, though Carl did not touch his. Only that afternoon he had discovered a stash of empty wine bottles in the back of Vie’s closet as he was putting away clean laundry. Any taste he’d had for wine was gone and unlikely to return. It had begun to sink in, the damage the drinking had done to his wife’s health.
Looking into Carl’s eyes, Vie recognized his revelation about her drinking, and she angrily, yet silently, decided he was wrong in judging her on this. It was right and normal to enjoy wine — this confirmed by her friend’s enthusiasm for their Italian varietal — the Sangiovese that would go perfectly with the porchetta. Vie was going to enjoy it, regardless of anyone else’s thoughts on the subject. As it turned out, it also paired beautifully with Carl’s tiramisu, which he would have enjoyed had his enthusiasm for his favorite dessert not been doused by his discovering evidence of Vie’s addiction earlier in the day. Carl silently and deliberately finished his dessert, then, without explanation, abruptly left the table for the bedroom to read and listen to Mendelssohn’s Italian Symphony.
After dinner, the women cleaned up the dining room and kitchen, jabbering while washing and drying dishes by hand. They then proceeded to the guest room to put on soft clothes for their evening of relaxation. Vie had several soft-knit sleep dresses and two white terrycloth robes — hers and Carl’s. Kate chose the sleep dress in taupe; Vie picked her favorite periwinkle. They then brushed out each other’s hair, washed their faces with Vie’s favorite milk soap, brushed their teeth, then headed into the living room with a list of potential movies scratched out on a dinner napkin. After watching trailers for everything from Melissa McCarthy’s “Starling” to “Something’s Gotta Give,” with Diane Keaton, the women settled on “Carol,” starring Cate Blanchett, knowing somewhere in this film were deep connections they would soon be making.
As Vie worked up a blaze in the fireplace, Kate organized quilts and large pillows on the floor, configured so they could rest their backs against the couch while also stretching out their legs. And she’d set to the side some lavender CBD balm for their sore muscles, as the hike had been strenuous. Kate noted that Vie’s hands were also aching — she had been relieved to put her hands in the sudsy warm water as they washed dishes. Vie cued up their movie and, with an intriguing half smile, joined Kate on the floor, not hesitating to sit so close their shoulders and arms made contact, and each could feel the other’s warmth.
Partway through the first love scene in the movie, in part to diffuse the intensity of it and the implication that Carol and Therese were, in essence, them, Kate reached for the jar of lavender balm and suggested massaging Vie’s hands. The room was toasty warm, and Vie obliged Kate’s request by loosening the belt of her robe, letting it fall off her broad shoulders, and then pulling her arms from the sleeves. As Vie extended her bare arm in Kate’s direction, she gazed at her profile, taking in her expression as she took her hand and caressed it gently with just the tips of her fingers. Kate then took a small dollop of the thick cream, warmed it in her palm, and worked into the fleshy mounds at the base of Vie’s hand, firmly kneading all the way to the tip of each finger. She followed by working the balm into the muscles on the insides of Vie’s muscular wrists, and as she felt Vie’s hand and arm relaxing, she used her full hand to stroke and knead Vie’s forearm, front and back, then all the way to her elbow. Entranced, Vie leaned back her head into the thick pillow and closed her eyes. Once done with the left hand and arm, Kate hiked up her night dress and climbed across Vie’s extended legs to position herself for massaging the other side, in the process, her soft and furry mons pubis made contact with Vie’s smooth legs.
Following hand and arm massages, Kate moved down to Vie’s feet, where she sat gazing upward at her beautiful, long legs. After giving Vie’s feet a similar treatment to her hands, Kate worked her way up Vie’s legs without losing contact — first massaging and flexing her ankles, then applying more cream and vigorously massaging her calves. Then, more gently, she focused on Vie’s outer thighs, slowly working well-lubricated thumbs and palms to her inner thighs, where just below the pubic bone, she fanned out her fingers, curving them outward toward Vie’s hips, then under to her buttocks, which she kneaded deeply, her fingertips then dipping into Vie’s perineum, doing the lightest double time, though never penetrating.
Finally, Kate rested her warmed, outstretched hands gently across Vie’s hip bones, her thumbs making gentle circles on her lower abdomen, just above her mons pubis. She then worked her thumbs ever so slightly downward, caressing the soft pubic hair with her fingertips, then slowly and softly parting Vie’s labia, bowing her head down to kiss Vie intimately, her warm mouth open and inviting, her tongue exploring Vie’s wet and fragrant vagina.
Peering out from the dark corner of the stone fireplace was Carl, who watched in awe as his wife succumbed to the powerful sensations of Kate’s lovemaking. It was one of the most beautiful scenes Carl had witnessed in his life — his wife was in another place altogether, free finally from her angst and frustration, released from all of her pain. Her face said it plainly, as did the soft cooing sounds she expressed. Carl was overcome with feelings he would be hard-pressed to put a name to. He embraced with his whole heart what he was witnessing, joining in Vie’s deep arousal, ablaze himself with the same sexual flush the women had, breathing as they did, though doing all he could to restrain himself, to keep from disrupting this precious and delicate intimacy — a peak experience for both women. He wanted this for Vie, for them.
Kate and Vie’s noisy, happy lovemaking continued for many hours into the night, and somewhere along the way, Carl discreetly slipped back into the bedroom. He lay on top of the duvet naked, then closed his eyes, the image of these beautiful women imprinted in his mind. He pleased himself with more intensity than he had felt in years, tears of joy staining his cheeks as he fell into a deep and soothing slumber.