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If Therese had known it was going to be any colder, she would have brought out her mittens and her scarf. Instead, she simply assumed that she’d be fine with just her toque (which was her first big mistake of many), and she was left to press her hands as close to her as she could, scrabbling for what little bits of heat she could. “What kind of people design coats with shallow pockets?” she asked with an irritated tone, rubbing her hands against the rough felt of her own jacket. “If one designed a coat without pockets, I might have been able to understand. I’d still be angry, but it’s understandable. Perhaps. But with shallow pockets, you’re so close to getting what you want, yet it’s just not there. Who thought this was a good idea? Are they still alive? Am I allowed to strangle them?”
“You could have circumvented the whole issue simply by bringing your gloves along,” Carol said with a smile that was a cross of both merriment and smugness. She was amused, as was Therese, aside from the whole hey-I-can’t-quite-feel-my-fingers-anymore thing. “I believe I told you, didn’t I? It’s cold, Therese, you need to wear something on your fingers.” There was a definite amount of self-satisfaction creeping into her voice, but in a way that doesn’t make Therese feel bad. Not in the way that it would if Richard had been the one gloating at her. Therese pushed that thought aside; she and Richard had been over for years, and there was no point in her thinking about ‘them’.
“I thought I would be fine without them,” Therese admitted. She brought one hand up to her cheek and felt the contrasts in temperatures. “And yet, here I am, completely wrong. If this goes on for much longer, my fingers may as well simply fall off!”
Carol clicked her tongue somewhat chidingly, “Why don’t you wear my gloves for a bit?”
“No,” Therese said, almost immediately. “I mean, they’re your gloves. I’ll just have to be the victim of my own poor choices.” Her tone ended with a dramatic sigh. She wouldn’t wear Carol’s gloves because they wouldn’t feel right on her own fingers. It was a silly reason to not want to wear them, but she could live with cold fingers for a while.
“Alright, here’s a better idea,” Carol continued, holding out one hand. Therese stared at it for a second, wondering if Carol was implying what she thought she was implying. “Well? It will warm up your hands.”
“Isn’t this kind of inappropriate?” Therese asked with the beginnings of a smile, although she happily took Carol’s hand anyway. “You’re not usually the type to initiate, and especially not in public.”
Carol simply shrugged. “It’s the middle of winter, nobody’s gonna care. In fact, you could even argue that because of the holiday rush, nobody’s even looking. And well, if anyone points fingers…” She paused, and Therese picked up the bits of her thoughts for her.
“We’re related?”
“Bingo, exactly.”
Therese laughed, shook her head. “We hardly look anything alike. Plus, what kind of relatives do you know that hold hands any time after the age of twelve? And that’s if you’re really pushing it.” She had not understood that when she had first taken Carol’s hand in public that she was not allowed to do that. For no reason other than the fact that, well, Therese was Therese. She only understood after their separation, after Therese had the chance to think long and hard about everything that happened up until that point. Those thoughts as well, they were too dark for a day like this.
“It’s easier to explain away than it is to say we’re in love,” Carol argued with a pleasant little smile. “Why don’t we start walking home, then? We’ll make some hot chocolate, then we’ll go and watch some Christmas specials on the television.”
“We can hold hands there too,” Therese suggested with a grin.
“Yes, of course we can.”