Work Text:
The older Carson got the more she realized that the sky is often a metaphor for how she lives her life. Whether it’s nature or nurture the habit is there and it didn’t seem to be going away any time soon.
Nature. Nature because despite what the preacher taught every week, Carson knew she came from stardust, not her husband’s rib. The connection, the pull, she felt (feels) toward the never ending abyss was a call back home. Back to where she started. Maybe the bible was right about one thing. From dust to dust.
Nurture. Mostly from Carson’s mom, but her dad a little bit, too. The conviction that God is real and listening. The faith that daily prayers can fix anything, or at least make us feel less alone. Carson has never had the testimony her dad seems to have but the routine of pleading with the sky almost willing somebody to hear her has stayed. She's never got confirmation that somebody is listening, but given the current circumstances things could be worse. They could also be a hell of a lot better.
Nurture. From Carson's mom is likely the reason she’s here in this moment. When her mom left, people told Carson she should be furious. How could a woman leave her family behind to fend for themselves? The truth is, Carson never once blamed her. Given the choice, she probably would have left with her. Carson now understands perfectly the pull to leave. Sure her mom left, but she left Carson behind with lessons about the sky that perfectly apply to right now. Her mom taught her to be less concerned with which dipper was the big or little one and be more focused on what Carson saw. In the daytime her mom taught her that the clouds have meanings and she got to decide them. Maybe this is the God her dad keeps referring to. Nobody is really asking God for guidance, they’re seeking permission from the stars and clouds.
Carson never expected that she would be brave enough to do something like this. Yet here she is, next to the most beautiful woman she’s ever met, bearing her soul. Something she never felt she could do with her husband. She had told Greta that they should just be friends. Voices in her mind of her father’s and sister’s telling her all the reasons this thing with Greta can never be real. Truthfully they would say it’s an abomination and she’s turning out just like her mom.
Carson doesn’t think being like her mom is such a bad thing anymore. On this field, staring at the constellations, asking for permission to let go of her dad’s nurturing. Asking for permission to believe that something that feels so good can be right for once. Asking for permission to be like her mom and go after what she wants.
There have always been two things in Carson's life that she’s kept sacred. The baseball field and the sky. She's kept them close to her chest, scared that they’d lose their magic if she shared them with anybody. Now she realizes she just had to share them with somebody worthy.
On this baseball field, under this sky, with this woman, it’s still sacred. Carson thinks Greta might be a third sacred thing. There’s nobody else she’d want to be with in this moment.
The baseball field is more a church to Carson than a chapel ever could be. The sky is more a God to Carson than anything she read in the bible. And in the short time that Carson's known her, Greta feels like more a partner than her husband.
So here, at Carson's church, under Carson's God, with Carson's partner, they’re asking for permission together, to be with each other.