The glass lay scattered about the floor in more colours than the sea on a clear day.  The window was more beautiful in pieces than in the empty hollow where the sun had once danced through it.  In its place, the sunlight leant the tiny hall an almost cheerful glow.  Carolyn had taped the bottom of the coloured glass in place when they first moved in.  It was listed on the condition report - front door; leadlight coming loose - rattles when door opens - please fix.  Security hazard.  It would probably be too late to fix it now.  The dreadful glass lorikeet was gone forever.  Here was a miracle of light and shade scattered on the floor.

Carolyn sat and closed her eyes.  She could run out after Bec.  That would be the kind of thing Carolyn would be expected to do.  Bec would be under the house or down the road in the park or wandering the streets with her hair a tangle.  Poor Bec who could not be still.  Poor Bec who would rock and rock and cling onto her own shoulders.  Poor Bec.  Carolyn would sit beside her and watch and hours would pass till the rocking stopped.  Then she would lead her back to the house and sit with her some more in a darkened room.  Carolyn’s arms were cement.  Her head was a dull hollow filled with sand.  Her feet were swollen to the size of anchors.

Saint Carolyn.  She tried on the title like the Cinderella slipper and found it to be too large.  She would never marry the prince now.  Perhaps she would have to settle for Rebecca instead.

*

What is love and where would it be found? 

Two people find each other across a crowded room.  The room is full of people.  They could have found anyone in this sea of dancing. They could have found no one at all and left alone.   They could have found the wrong person and left with someone else.  And who was to say they hadn't?  As it was their eyes met across a crowded room.  They had each seen this kind of thing at the movies.  It was just a small step then to call it love, this meeting of eyes and beating of hearts.  They fell in love.

They made their way towards each other.  When each arrived at the other place, the reason for their journey was no longer there.  They set out again.  The room was thick with people and with sweat.  All kinds of outfits brushed against them.  There was a lot of vinyl.  Vinyl was big that week.  This was a detail that they both remembered in the years that were to follow.  Hairstyles were uneven.  Sex was anonymous and conducted out the back in the toilets or around the side in an alley.  There was the smell of gel and perfume and stale sex.  The journey took most of the night. 

By the time they found each other they began to wonder if this was the person they had sighted across a crowded room, or someone else entirely.  The memory of a face from afar was considerably more cigarette-hazy and beer-smudged than a face with a body attached in the cold light of close proximity.  They had one thing in common anyway, they had both been searching all night.

So this is love.  And this is the kind of place it can be found.

*

Would I still be a good person if I sat here for a few minutes?

If I made myself a cup of tea before I chased after her?

If I ran a hot bath and put scented oil in it?

Would I still be a good person if I conditioned my hair?

Would I still be a good person if I didn't run after her at all?

*

There would be intimate conversations when the waters were calm.  They would tangle about each other in the tiny boat of a bed and dangle their arms in the water, and let their hopes nibble their fingers.  Carolyn would think of phrases like smooth sailing; and calm waters; and eye of the storm.  There was a picture of a sailing ship on the wall above them.  The stars would be bright outside.  They'd kick their bed sheets off to warm themselves in the starlight.  If it was very cold their skin would prickle deliciously.

"We're only two seconds away from death," said Bec. "Imagine.  Right now.  I could lose you in an instant." 

They were entwined.  It was a warm dark.  Warm dark is the best for the telling of secrets.

"Sometimes I'm on a tightrope, up in the air.  It would just take one step in the wrong direction.  It's silly."

Carolyn held her.  Her skin was warm.  She rested her head on Bec's heart.  It was a strong sound.  Why? She wanted to ask.  Why?  Why?  But it would have changed the mood and it was a good mood.  She kept silent.

*

Carolyn was romanced.  Bec took her to parties.  Bought her bottles of Cointreau for no reason.  Set the table with candles and scattered flowers in the spaces between their plates.  Found adventures just for the two of them when they wanted to be alone.  Bec had many friends.  She cooked quickly.  She could organise a party in a single phone call and twenty minutes later there would be laughter and red wine and good company.  Bec held out her hand and Carolyn joined her on the tightrope.  Looking down there was all the world.  A view like she had never seen before.  Down below there were no soft places and no easy landing if you were to fall.  Carolyn stepped back onto solid ground.  Spent more time at home reading.  Looked up and waved to Bec occasionally.  Bec was a speck of colour and movement, so high above that a wave of vertigo overwhelmed her and she had to stop looking and trust that Bec would not fall.

*

Would I still be a good person if I took an aspirin and lay down?

If I called someone and had coffee with them instead?

Would I still be a good person if I went to stay with my sister for a while?

Would I still be a good person if I let her come home by herself and was not here when she arrived?

*

Robyn told her not to worry too much.  Robyn was a nurse in a psych unit and saw much worse than this every day.  Robyn was a confident woman who drank too much and flirted with anyone within kissing distance at a party.  She had invited her to dinner because Robyn would always have an answer to questions like this.  Robyn would always have an answer to any question.  Carolyn had many questions.

Nothing to worry about.  She'll be all right.  Doesn't sound like anything serious.  Go see a counsellor if it keeps happening.  Everyone has their ups and downs.  Bec's a smart woman.  Bec will sort it out.

Bec was out on the tightrope that night.  Bec was up in the sky.  Bec was a shooting star.

*

A shooting star comes to rest in the corner of a pub.  It is still glowing, but not with the kind of intensity that rocketed it through the night sky.  Now it has landed and the brightness is fading fast and it is becoming a woman.  The woman is wearing a green velvet skirt.  Her shirt is the kind that catches the light.  There are many people watching her.  They have seen her dance and it has been hard to follow something so dazzling.  Now she has come to rest and they are intrigued.  The woman rests her arm on the bar, her hand clasps her mouth as if to secure some secret that she must not let loose.  Her eyes are nothing to speak of, they are foggy and slightly confused.  The eyeliner is smudged.  The people turn away, disappointed.  She is just a woman.  They had expected something more astrological.

*

Would I still be a good person if I withdrew half of the money in our account?

If I bought a ticket to some coastal place with a view?

Would I still be a good person if I lay on the beach for a week?

Would I still be a good person if I sent her a postcard and told her that I loved her from afar?

*

Carolyn looked at the broken glass.  The miracle of light was almost gone.  It was only broken glass after all.  She did not mourn the loss of the leadlight lorikeet, but the glass would have to be cleaned up.  Someone might get hurt.  What if she brought Bec back and there was all this glass about.  On days like today the world was a weapon, offering itself to Bec.

Carolyn found the dustpan and brush and swept up as much of the glass as she could.  They would be picking splinters out of their feet for days.  She tipped the dustpan into the bin and poured herself a glass of Cointreau which she drank quickly.

Would I still be a good person if I drank a glass of Cointreau?

She brushed her teeth. 

She closed all the windows and locked the door behind her.  The hole in the front door grinned at her.  She set off to find her.

What is love and where can she be found?

Bec would be under the house or down the road in the park or wandering the streets.  Poor Bec who could not be still.  Carolyn would sit beside her and watch and hours would pass till the rocking stopped and Carolyn could lead her back to the house and sit with her some more in a darkened room.

Saint Carolyn.  She tried on the title like the Cinderella slipper and found it to be too large.