Chapter Text
She knows that she can’t go with Greta, as much as her heart is bursting at the idea of not seeing her (hands, hair, lips, wink) for 9 months. Every single fiber of her is screaming to ask Greta to stay or for her to get on that train to New York. Their last kiss brings both a finality and certainty. It’s over and will also be forever. It was never hers, never real, never certain and yet it was the most hers, real and certain thing she’s ever had. Greta Gill.
She’s also sure as hell can’t go back to Charlie so when he catches them on the porch it’s (almost) a relief; in a throw up in your mouth type of way. In a life-changing, lump in your throat, melt into the floor type of way.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. You have to know that I would never hurt you on purpose, Charlie”, Carson says as they enter Charlie’s Rockford hotel room.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. To us.” Charlie says as he sits down on the bed. His sad eyes creep up to meet hers. But her eyes– there isn’t any sadness there, which Charlie is both surprised and hurt to see. She has a newness to her now, and her big brown eyes show him everything he needed to know. Well, not everything. He needs this question answered before he can be done.
“Do you love her?”
It hangs in the air. Love. Do you love her. More than me? Are you IN love? Have you given yourself to her? To her. Greta.
“ I.. Charlie. I can’t talk to you about her. I know that you’re my best friend and we should be able to… but, I… you know.. It’s different. I’m different.”. She tries to tell him now what she tried to tell him in her letter that started this whole thing. “I know that things are different now and I need to take some space to see what that means”.
Fast forward 2 days later and both Carson and Charlie are exhausted. They’ve been round and round about baseball and Greta and Idaho. Their marriage. They’ve tried to yell at each other, with no relief. They’ve cried and held each other. They’ve sat in silence. Maybe they can try again, start over somewhere new? Charlie tries to tell her about the war, about shell shock. About needing something to ground him. When he moves in from a chaste hug to try to kiss her, Carson pulls back and he knows that he’s lost her.
“You love her” he says, his voice hitching in his throat.
“Yes.” It’s the most certain she’s ever been about anything and Charlie sees his wife and his best friend gone in an instant. It takes his breath out of his lungs.
Before he leaves Rockford to go home, Charlie gives Carson two things. First, her wages from the season that should help her get set up for her next adventure and the address of an army buddy in St. Louis; a guy that Charlie knows that might be sympathetic to Carson’s situation. Patrick and Dan were in Charlie’s platoon in Germany and when Dan was killed in action, Patrick went AWOL and eventually came home. It was a well known secret amongst the guys that Patrick and Dan were together and Charlie figures that he can at least have some sort of lifeline to his soon to be ex-wife if his pal is there to help keep an eye on her.
****
Greta does not cry all the way to New York. She keeps her perfect (everything) together right up until she hits her boarding room door. As soon as the lock hitches shut, she totally falls apart. Carson stayed. She didn’t follow her to New York. It wasn’t real. It’s over. These thoughts swirl on repeat, as the tears fall hard in the bare room. She’ll write to her, eventually, but for now, she’ll cry and break until she picks herself back up, puts herself back together and puts on the brave face that has been her only constant for 26 years.
****
The train to St. Louis is only a 6 hour ride and Carson debates about writing to Greta only 65 times. She starts a letter but immediately crumples it up. She starts a letter that confesses her every desire (ok…not every desire, that would be too much) but again decides that she can’t send it. She both needs to hang on to everything and simultaneously let everything go. Maybe once she gets to St. Louis she’ll call her, but even as that thought crosses her mind she shrugs it off. She knows the second she hears Greta’s voice she’d be a goner. So for now she stares out the moving train window with everything in quiet suspense. She has no idea what she’s doing but she knows that the further the train gets away from Rockford, the more she feels unmoored. She’s always been tethered; to Lake Valley, to her sister and dad, to Charlie. To baseball. And now she has none of that, but feels like a spark has been lit somewhere inside her that would surely turn to a wildfire if she lets herself fan it even a little bit.
As the train finally pulls in, she grabs her bags and checks in with someone at the ticket counter. She’s hoping Charlie’s friend can point her in the right direction of a safe boarding house, maybe to a job. She’s hoping for bare minimums here; she’s hoping for safety and quiet but unfortunately for Carson, Charlie’s friend Patrick is neither safe nor quiet.
****
Patrick and Dan were the real deal. They were from different… everything. Dan was quiet and sweet; he was the kid brother of the entire barracks. He grew up in small town South Dakota and raised cattle with his 4 older brothers. When they all went to war, he joined up alongside them and eventually got stationed in France. Patrick, on the other hand, was a firecracker. When he walked into a room, every single person in the room would take notice. He was loud, boisterous, outgoing, lively. He had an energy that drew people to him and so when Dan was being teased by some of the guys for being a bookworm, Patrick called them off. He noticed the quieter man often found any excuse to be by himself which, secretly, Patrick also craved. Patrick always had a facade- a mask that he had to put on, to make sure every guy knew that he was a man’s man. A guy's guy. When honestly, curling up with a good book is everything that he wanted in the whole world. They had found each other in France. They fell in love in France. It was a magical three months until one afternoon they were sweeping a town and came under fire. Dan was there, until he wasn’t. Everything was gone in an instant.
***
When Carson knocked on the door of the small bungalow, she wasn’t nervous at all. How bad could it be? She was hoping to say hi, get a couple contacts and say see ya around. But as the door opened, she suddenly got the urge to run. Patrick looked like he had been drunk since he got home 8 months ago. He was handsome, but the shirt he was wearing had more holes and stains on it than not. He pulled the door open with a force and intensity that startled Carson as she stood on his stoop.
“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” he growled at the mousy woman on his steps.
“Um… well, I’m um… Charlie Shaw? Do you know him…from the war? He’s my… well, he um… sent me to you? Do you… um… well, ya. Hi. I’m Carson”
“Charlie Shaw, eh? Fuck, Charlie Shaw. What a boring waste of space he was” as he chuckled to himself. “Wait, you’re his wife? The baseball player? He talked about you all the time. You wanna… a beer or something?” which both startled Carson and intrigued her. In no circumstances would it be proper to have a beer with this man, but here she was.
“Um, sure… could we maybe sit out here on the steps?” not wanting to be alone with him inside.
He immediately slammed the door and could be heard tromping away to retrieve the beer. A second later, the door reopened and they settled on to the porch.
“So what are you doing here, Carson Shaw? How’s your husband or did he get blown to bits over there?”
“What?! No! He’s fine, he’s home…. He’s, you know… good. He’s good. I just, um…. He thought maybe you’d be a good contact for me here in St. Louis. I sort of… am done with my baseball season and thought I could use… you know… time away?”
Even as the words came out of her mouth, Carson regretted coming here. Patrick must be thinking that she’s crazy and there is absolutely no way to explain herself.
“Lemme get this straight. You left Iowa…”
“Idaho”
“Idaho, to play baseball while your husband was… at war? And now that it’s done and your man is home, you need…time away? And you’re here on my steps? I need to know this whole story…” he teased her, tossed back the entire beer in his hand and grabbed another.
The conversation oddly brought a smile to her face, reminiscent of the one she had with Greta on the night of her haircut.
****
Surprisingly, Patrick was an excellent listener. He was gruff and well… drunk. But he heard her entire story from the beginning and only paused her to bring her another beer. By the time they had a dozen empties on the steps, Carson was feeling well…. drunk. She poured out the entire story to this man, a practical stranger, and had felt like she gained a much needed friend.
“You gotta write to her! I can’t believe you came to St. Louis when your dream girl was right there! She asked you to come to New York and you came here?! Let’s write to her!” and Patrick ran inside to get some paper and a pen.
“I can’t! I don’t know what I want to say! She’s… you know… perfect. She’s beautiful. Like wow. And sweet and so good at baseball… and well, I told her that I was going to find my own way.. But I mean… I’m here? Which is strange. And…. I want her back so bad. Help me write this!” as Carson tipped back another beer and Patrick’s eyes filled with something that looked like hope.
***
G,
I have wanted to write to you since the minute you left Rockford and I can’t believe you’re actually gone. I should have come with you. I wanted to, but I think we both know that we need this time and space to figure everything out. I am in St. Louis with a new friend and I think I’m going to stay here for a while. Please write to me when you can.
I can’t wait to hear about New York. I’m sure you’ll be amazing.
Hopeful to hear from you soon,
C
***
“What, that’s it?! The love of your life, left you with your boring husband to go to New York and that’s the best you can do?!” Patrick was like an annoying big brother, with a grin that showed affection for this untethered woman on his steps. “Listen, it’s getting late and I have to work tomorrow. Do you want to come in… the place is a total trash heap, but you can crash on my couch until you find something”
And that’s the start of a beautiful friendship. Patrick didn’t even know that he needed something after Dan. He thought he would just drink his way through life, constantly wishing for the life he almost had. Carson, on the other hand, knew what she needed. She needed to find herself and her way back to Greta.
***
Three weeks into her new routine and Greta is impossibly sad, but determined to make New York work. She’s always been willing to hustle for what she wants and really doing well with Vivienne, secured a new apartment and comes home to write to her Peaches almost every night. She received a letter from Carson last week and she was both ecstatic and deflated. How did she end up in St. Louis? What friend? What is she doing right now? Does she miss her? A dozen times over the next couple weeks, she tries to write back to Carson, but hasn’t yet been able to reply… yet. She only wants to confess her love, ask her to come visit, ask her to stay for a little while or forever but doesn’t want to be needy. So she doesn’t. She pretends like she doesn’t need anything at all and keeps her return letter impossibly light.
Dear C,
Thanks for your letter, I’m so happy to hear that you’re safe in St. Louis. The Cards are great this year. Do you think you’ll get to see any games? Tell me more about your new friend and what you’ve been doing with yourself.
I heard from Jo and she’s on her way up to California with Flo. I am hopeful that she’ll come visit me at Christmas time. Christmas in New York is beautiful and I can’t wait for visitors.
I am settled in a new apartment and I’ve been working hard with Vivienne. The job is never going to be as fun as the Peaches, but I’m finding the work challenging. I’m actually really good at it, go figure.
I hope you’re doing well. Looking forward to next season already,
G
*****
“Get up, lazy ass. You’ll be late for work again. I made pancakes.” Carson swatted at Patrick as she passed the couch.
“Oh, you’re a real domestic goddess, Carson, thanks” he bantered back, as finally got into an upright position. “Ouch, that was a doozy last night”.
It had been almost 4 months since Carson arrived in St. Louis and she and Patrick had fallen into a cozy life together. As cozy as two closeted queer friends could be, that is. A couple weeks after being in St. Louis and first crashing on Patrick’s couch, Carson slowly moved into his guest room and shortly after that they decided that it would be easiest (and safest) if they pretend to be married. Carson kept her ring on her finger and every now and again would think of Charlie, but mostly was happy to in a rhythm that was all her own.
To the women that she worked with at the munitions factory in town, Patrick seemed like a real catch. He really was handsome– he was rugged and masculine, with a wicked grin and a personality that could draw you in. He worked hard as an electrician, a skill that he picked up when he was overseas. They’d come home to each other at night– sometimes they’d listen to music or a show, but most of the time they’d sit on the porch and read.
Carson thought of Greta constantly, but only received one letter, back two months ago. It wasn’t that Carson didn’t want to write back or that she didn’t have anything to say, it’s that she felt like Greta’s letter felt like goodbye and Carson couldn’t. Couldn’t… bear the thought that it was over for real. She wanted to tell Greta that she’d love to see New York at Christmas time. She thought of dozens of presents she’d buy, laying in front of a roaring fire with a beautiful Christmas tree in the corner, Bing Crosby on the radio. Going to bed and waking up with Gr..
“Hey, snap out of it, Shorty”, Patrick bumped her with his hip as he came into the kitchen. “You should call her”.
“What? Um… who? I’m fine, just thinking about, you know… Christmas. It’s coming up next month already” Carson said as the smile fell from her face.
“Call her. Or at least write! Or don’t and finally come out to the bar with me this weekend and get over her.”
“Maybe I’ll write to her. Yeah, I will, today after my shift. I’ll um… I’ll just say that I want to see her. Soon.” Carson commits this to herself. “But um… I think I might also be ready to try and go to the bar with you this weekend?”
She hears Patrick hooting and hollering from the kitchen as he runs, practically into her, with a mouth full of pancakes. “YES! Shorty, you’ll love it. And you’re buying, since it’s your first night out with me. That’s the rules”.
***
Dear G,
I have been meaning to write to you for months, but I feel like I want to say everything all at once and I’m having a hard time sorting through what might be too much for you. Let me start by saying that I miss you and I think about you every day. New York better be treating you well.
I’m getting settled into things here in St. Louis. Patrick, my friend that I mentioned in my first letter, and I have been sharing a house outside of the city and it’s really beautiful here. You can see the stars at night and don’t have any nosey neighbors, so that’s been lovely. I’m sure you’ll love Patrick as much as I do- he’s like my Jo, so I know you know what that means to me. He’s like me… he lost his friend about a year ago and we’ve both been trying to move on in our own ways. We finally went out to a bar this weekend and I feel like I’m just now starting to live that life that I set out to find 4 months ago. Greta, I am being careful. I promise. There are so many amazing people out there and I have been lucky to gain some new friends and experiences since you last saw me in Rockford.
I know you said that Jo was going to visit you at Christmas and I’m thankful that you’ll have her there for the holidays. I hope this isn’t too forward, but maybe you could meet me in St. Louis for New Years? I’m inviting all the Peaches for a New Years Eve party that Patrick and I are hosting and hope that you’ll be able to join us.
Please tell me that you’re happy in New York. I really want nothing more than your happiness so even if you can’t come to St. Louis, please write back and let me know that you’re doing well.
-C
****
Jo had only been in New York a handful of hours and the conversation already moved on to Carson.
“You didn’t even write her back, Bird? What are you thinking! She is clearly still in love with you”. Jo DeLuca always had a way of setting Greta straight, but in this case, she was having a hard time getting her best friend to see what was in front of her.
“She isn’t though, Joey. You read what she wrote… working on “moving on from losing her “friend”?. Going out to a bar??? She sounds like she’s happy so I’m… I’m fine. This is fine, it will be better anyways.” Greta had almost convinced herself of this, right up until tears started forming in the corner of her eyes.
“She’s hopelessly in love with you, Gret. I can’t believe you can’t see that. I wish the two of you would get your heads out of your asses and just stop pretending. You’re happy with her, Bird. I told you that 6 months ago and I’m tellin’ you now.”
Greta knew in her heart there was still a chance that Carson might feel something for her, but she wouldn’t be able to take the heartbreak of it not being true.
“Me and the rest of the girls are going. To St. Louis for New Years.” Jo said, half as a confession, half as a taunt.
“Joey! You traitor! You’re going to see her?”
“She’s a Peach, and she invited her team to ring in the New Year. You know, collegiality and all that.”
The rest of their Christmas went how it usually does with the two women. A couple too many drinks, a couple close calls, one meaningless night in a bar (for Greta. Jo was solidly in love with Flo). Greta convinced herself she was fine, and if Carson was moving on then so was she. This is fine.
*****
“Did you get all the cups out? Like all of them? I feel like we should go down to Goodwill and round up a couple more. I think we’ll have a full house!” Carson yelled over to Patrick from where he was setting out food in the living room.
“A full house?! Who’d you invite?! I just have a handful of guys from work, and a couple guys from the bar. And Matthew” He sighed and smiled to himself, as Carson peeked around the corner.
“Matthew!? You didn’t tell me that! I thought he was married!”
“Well ya, but so are we!” and they laughed together at that. “I need you as my wingwoman tonight, Shorty. He’s gorgeous and I think he had some chemistry the other night, but I don't know. This is the first time that I’ve felt anything for someone… since Danny”.
Carson rounded the corner and came to give her best friend a warm hug.
“Wingwoman, huh? Ok well, maybe you could be my wingman” Carson said conspiratorially as she pulled back.
“Carson! Who!? Is Greta coming? You heard from her?”
“Um, actually no. I haven’t heard from her at all.” as she looked back at him only slightly crestfallen. “Um, no… actually, I invited June.”
“June?! Like, 6ft tall, drop dead gorgeous, legs for days, JUNE?! Carson, you dog!” Patrick beamed back at her. “I’m so proud of you!”
“Ya, I mean… I um… we were at the bar the other night, and we chatted for a while and… it seemed like maybe there was something… or, I mean…I dunno.”
“Even if it’s nothing, I’m proud of you. Forget little Miss New York. She hasn’t written at all, so she can kick rocks.”
****
Carson had never been much of a partier. She’s always been happy to sit on the sidelines of things like this, but as their house began to fill up with friends and strangers, she was practically glowing. Drinks for the group in the corner, refill the empty plates. Hug Maybelle harder than she expected herself to. Introduce her Peaches to Patrick. Keep an eye on Jess and Lupe in the corner– those two had shown up earlier today and started the party early. Even Jo and Flo were in good spirits. Carson meant to ask Jo how Greta was, but she kept things light. She asked about Christmas but Jo didn’t give anything away. It was getting later into the night and the drinks were flowing when June walked in with a group of girls Carson didn’t know and Jess and Lupe were on them in an instant. Carson walked over and was able to save June from their clutches.
“Hi.. um, wow it’s so nice that you came! I hope um… well, can I get you a drink?”
“I brought you some of this champagne…. Maybe we could pop this a bit early?” June said as their fingers brushed. She looked at Carson right in the eyes and gave her a wink. A wink. It both warmed Carson and made her tense. Could she do this? It’s only been a couple months away from Greta.
“June! I’m so glad you’re here!” Patrick charged forward and pulled June into a friendly hug. “Carson, help me get some glasses for this” as he pulled her into the kitchen.
“Patrick, I have no idea what I’m doing. She’s um… I think she likes me?”
“Dammit Carson, of course she likes you. You’re beautiful.” he told her as he pretended to brush her off, and straighten her collar before sending her back to the living room. “Tell her you like her… um…. Champagne. And ask her to dance. You’ve got this!”
As the night went on, the air in the room was electric. The music was rocking the entire house; inside and outside there were people everywhere. Dancing, flirting, pulling their loves or flings into dark corners. Carson and June had been chatting on and off all night; small touches to the arm or back as Carson refilled her glass for the 5th or 6th time. When June reached over to put a strand of hair behind her ear, Carson caught her eyes. It took everything in her to work up the courage to start but as she started to say “would you like to da…”, June pulled her into the living room and all at once they were in each other's arms, in a dance that felt like a wave swelling up and over the whole room. Carson didn’t know how to feel about this, but she tried to stay in the moment. A push, a pull. Hands on her arms, and back. June's hands in her hair. Tried to push Greta from her mind. She was in the arms of a beautiful woman who….
And as she considered the woman in front of her, there was a dramatic energy shift in the room. It was still boisterous, but as Carson looked to see what was causing the commotion, her heart jumped into her throat.
Greta. Greta Gill was there, standing in her living room.