Happiness is a Green Vine
Therese is not a happy woman. She is not particularly unhappy, certainly no more than the average person. But there is a big difference between being unhappy and not being happy. One is an emotion; the other is the lack of an emotion. And at least when you are feeling unhappy, you are feeling something. By the time one gets to the point where Therese is at the beginning of the novel, even a sharp-edged despondent sense of unhappiness would be preferable. And so at the moment when happiness come to Therese, it has to be conveyed through imagery; anything more direct would be absurd. It is the last line, though, that is the killer. What a perfect image for someone who is just beginning to understand what true happiness can feel like:
“Then Carol slipped her arm under her neck, and all the length of their bodies touched, fitting as if something had prearranged it. Happiness was like a green vine spreading through her, stretching fine tendrils, bearing flowers through her flesh. She had a vision of a pale-white flower, shimmering as if seen in darkness, or through water. Why did people talk of heaven, she wondered.”
Kites
Imagery of kites are predominant throughout the novel and are referenced with enough variation that they become more than a simple symbol.
“Richard groaned, failing again. He was trying to get the kite up by running with it.” Well, that pretty much sums up Richard and Therese’s entire relationship, doesn’t it?
“Carol wouldn't like kites probably, Therese thought.” The kite becomes a symbol for the distinct and fundamental differences in character that separate Carol and Therese.
“Suddenly the kite broke its mooring in the sky and tugged sharply to get away.” Which is what Therese is on the verge of doing.
"I can make another kite!" Therese is in tears over the loss of Richard’s kite, but Richard takes it completely in stride. For Richard, there are plenty of other kites in the sky. For a woman who is just discovering her attraction toward other women…the sky is spacious and the kites are few.
Under Construction
Theresa builds models of sets to be made for theatrical productions. The models are not real. But neither are the sets. Nothing is real; it is all illusion and fakery.
“Therese stared at the cardboard model. At least she would see it used. At least she and the carpenters would make it something real. She went to the window and looked out at the gray but luminous winter sky, at the backs of some five-story houses garlanded with fire escapes.”
Being used is not the same thing as being real. But even the reality outside the window seems useless and unreal. The models that she builds are not really for the sake of sets. The models are constructed to fill an emptiness in her. Later, it hits her in a moment of epiphany:
"I wonder if I'll ever want to create anything again.” In that moment she recognizes that she no longer has a need to create anything. She’s found purpose and meaning in being love and being loved in return.
Mirrors
Mirrors serve as imagery over the course of the novel which act as a reflection of Therese’s doubts, insecurities and fears. When pressed to try on what she calls a dress of queens and is asked by Mrs. Robichek if she likes it, her unexpressed thought is one which creates a strange disconnect between the reflection and the self: “She wished she could kiss the person in the mirror and make her come to life.” When Carol suggests that she fly back to New York, leaving the car for Therese to wait for her someone, Therese is looking in a mirror and asks with trepidation, “And leave you?” Only after turning to look at Carol and judge her reaction, does she turn back to the mirror and the girl inside holding onto all her doubts and insecurities.
