Chapter Text
The last few weeks of March had dragged along. Carson felt as if she had counted the seconds of every minute as they passed. The Chicago air outside of her bedroom window was crisp, but the sun held the promise of spring’s beginning.
Today was the day. She’d be boarding a train—this time just the el—to make her way down to Baker Field for the start of spring training and tryouts.
Carson’s eyes were open before her alarm could go off and had been since dawn. She leapt out of bed and greeted the sun with the roar of a train outside her North Side apartment. She’d been living here since early winter, after finally leaving Idaho and Charlie behind for good.
Since arriving, it felt like her world had opened up. This city was hers to claim for her own. Nobody knew her here, she could be anyone she wanted, and she savored the independence. She found a job substitute teaching around the city. It was draining, but it suited her while she navigated the fall-out from her divorce, and kept her free enough to work up new game strategies for the upcoming baseball season, knowing she’d be back to coach the Peaches once again.
On weekends, she would take herself on dates and explore the city on her own. She’d been to nearly every museum and library already. But it wasn’t lonely—Carson knew a few other ball players from the league who lived in town whom she saw at least every other week.
In the evenings she would write letters to Max, whom she had seen once in Idaho when the All Stars blew through town. Ever since, they’d become regular pen pals.
And in the nights—late at night—she wrote to Greta.
Carson had been careful to protect the space she needed to take—and to respect Greta’s independence as she struck out on her own in New York—but it hadn’t taken more than a month apart for the longing to creep in. Hell, it had barely taken more than a week.
When she arrived in Chicago, just before Thanksgiving, she contacted the league administrators, knowing they kept a record of everyone’s contact information. They gave her Greta’s address, and on a snowy night in mid-December, hoping she’d reach her before Christmas, Carson scribbled a simple note on a Chicago postcard and dropped it in the mailbox like a message in a bottle.
Dear Greta,
Happy Holidays! It’s snowing here. I can see it from my bedroom window. Is it snowing in New York? And how are you doing?
Carson
It was a lighthouse signal into the dark, just to see if she’d get a response. Carson had been so preoccupied with weathering the rapid changes in her life over the last months that she worried she’d let the window into Greta’s heart shut on her. But she didn’t have to wonder long. A week later, an answer came on cream-colored stationary. Carson realized she had never seen Greta’s handwriting before. It was as elegant as she was.
Dear Carson,
What do you snow about that? Still just gray and cold here. I like imagining you in the snow. I am living my life, waiting for the spring. Holidays are strange. How long have you been in Chicago? Do you live with anyone?
XO, Greta
PS: Call yourself a man’s name when you write back
Carson read the note over and over for days before it occurred to her to write back. She just wanted to savor this sign of life, this sign of hope. Greta was out there, thinking of her, wanting to hear from her. Waiting for her.
Dear Greta,
I’ve been here a month. I have an apartment to myself on the North Side. Still moving in so there isn’t much furniture. I can see Baker from my rooftop and spend most of my time counting the days until the season starts. I got a job substitute teaching with the public schools. When we see each other I’ll tell you all about how I ended up here. For now I just want to hear from you.
Warm Regards,
Clayton
———————
Dear Clayton (if I must),
My days are full with work and adventure. Vivienne is a great boss but keeps me on my toes. I’m moving up here pretty quickly! I go out at night with friends. I see plays and movies on the weekends. And the rest of the time I spend thinking of carriage houses and convents.
“Warm Regards” (Really?),
Greta
———————
Dear Greta,
I have very fond memories of taking sacrament praying worshipping with you at the convent that I too also think about often. Though I admit it has been some amount of time that your face is a little less clear in my mind. Would you send me a portrait that I might have a photo to look upon when contemplating on such reminiscences?
Yours Truly (Better?),
Clayton
———————
Dear C,
You’re very bad at this. Good thing you’ve got your looks. Enclosed is a portrait. Keep it close to you always, promise?
Yours Truly (much better),
GG
Carson withdrew the small wallet-sized portrait from the envelope and held it like a baby bird or precious gemstone. The sight of her face, even just in this small black and white piece of paper, brought a staggering clarity to her in that moment: It was Greta. Simply Greta. And it would be forever.
She kissed the portrait, and after fretting she had smudged it, Carson put it pride of place on her nightstand for safekeeping, until she could sew it into the hem of her new Peaches uniform.
Back and forth their letters went, sometimes with a few weeks of silence in between if one of them was busy, usually Greta. During these periods, especially during the night, Carson would lie in bed wondering where Greta was at that moment, if she was thinking of her. Sometimes she wondered if Greta was having any flings in New York, but quieted her thoughts with the reassurance that surely she’d hear about it in a letter. At least that’s what she told herself, not wanting to ask.
She found herself being flirted with by men when she went out with friends, but none of them interested her. And being around other women from the league brought her into spaces similar to Vi’s, where she could be a bit more relaxed and welcome attention from women. But her heart belonged to Greta, and she was determined to follow her heart from now on.
——————————————————————————————
And now, the time had come to see each other again. In person. Today. After 8 months apart. They would spend the week in Chicago before heading up to Rockford and back to the boarding house they called their summer home.
After a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast, Carson put on her practice uniform and checked herself in the mirror: her hair was a bit darker than it had been, and it settled around her face a bit softer, a little past her shoulders now. Her skin looked better, and she felt stronger. She liked what she saw and stood up straighter, a new woman for a new season.
Carson took a deep breath, kissed Greta’s portrait for luck, put on last season’s Peaches hat, and headed out the door with her training bag, ready to reclaim her purpose and passion as catcher and coach.
The atmosphere around Baker was electric. Reunions popped up all around her like little bursts of fireworks as women squealed and ran to each other, embracing.
“SHAW!” came a low, loud voice. Carson looked around and found Lupe moving through the crowd toward her. The pitcher wrapped her in a hug and lifted her a few inches off the ground.
“How the hell are ya?” Lupe asked. “Ya look good!”
“So do you! How are you?” Carson gushed.
“Can’t complain. Back in fighting shape and ready to get on the field.”
“God, me too. Feels so good to be back here. You run into anybody else yet?”
“Jess is around here somewhere. And Shirley. I think she got here at like 7 AM before the park was even open.”
“Sounds right.”
They laughed together.
“All right who let you in here?!” came the unmistakable boom of Jo De Luca. Suddenly Carson felt the strongest pair of arms in the league wrap around her waist from behind and lift her up.
“Why are we lifting me?” she asked, now the second time it had happened.
“How ya livin’ coach?” Jo asked. Carson looked around having partly assumed Greta would arrive with Jo, just like last year.
“I’m good! I’m good.”
“She didn’t ride in with me. I came from the west coast. Remember?” Jo said with a knowing smirk, sensing Carson’s question.
One by one, more Peaches gathered and celebrated before hitting the field to warm up. Soon enough, Carson was standing alone amidst a sea of other players, waiting to see a flash of auburn hair floating above the crowd. But it didn’t come, and she was already late to meet up with the other team coaches.
Carson sighed and turned toward the ramp that would take her down onto the field.
“What, I don’t get a welcome back, Shaw?”
Carson felt her entire body freeze as an electric charge ran through her from tip to toe. By the time she turned around, the smile on her face was already wide enough that it hurt.
She was received by Greta’s surmising gaze as it looked her up and down, her lips pursed in a tight, knowing smile. She always looked like the cat about to eat the canary, and Carson was the canary.
Greta wore a new set of training clothes in red, pink, and white satin. On one lapel her initials were monogramed, with the Rockford “R” on the breast pocket. It was clearly custom, and brought out her hair and the flame red of her lips.
“Hi,” Carson sighed.
“You look good,” Greta spoke low.
“So do you,” Carson replied, doing her best to demonstrate the confidence she’d gained. It was hard when faced with nearly all 6 feet of Greta Gill, who wore confidence like skin.
They stepped toward each other tentatively, neither of them sure it would be a good idea to touch, worried they wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from ripping each other’s clothes off right there on the field.
But they couldn’t help themselves, and their magnetic pull brought them in for a close, warm hug. Carson shivered as she felt Greta’s hands run over her back and come to wrap her tight. They didn’t care if they lingered maybe a little too long. They needed to feel the weight of the other in their arms again, to breathe in each other’s smell having been denied it so many months.
“As I live and breathe!” came the sound of Jo, doing them a favor since neither of them knew how to break their embrace. Greta squealed at the sight of her best friend and ran to her.
Carson remembered how to breathe and went to join her team on the field.
——————————————————————————————
Day One finally eased to a finish, and a few teams had already staked out a bar they were planning to take over for a proper reunion. An hour and however many drinks later, everyone was feeling happy.
“So Carson you’re saying you live here now?” Lupe asked.
“Yeah I’m like a few train stops north of here.”
“That must be so wonderful to wake up and look out at the lake every day. It’s like an ocean!” Maybelle chirped.
“What happened to that husband?” Jess asked.
“Jess—,” Lupe interjected. Jess put their hand to their mouth in regret.
“No it’s okay. He um…we’re not together anymore. He gave me a divorce,” Carson said, giving as much an explanation as she felt like for now. She noticed Greta was listening to her over her conversation with Shirley.
“Say, Gill, why do you have your suitcase with you? Didn’t you stop at the hotel first?” Jo asked.
Greta blushed and flashed a look at Carson.
“Oh, um…train came in late so I was rushing from the station. Had to shove it in a locker at Baker.”
A quiet, knowing smile cracked over Carson’s face as she formulated the truth: Greta was hoping to come home with her. To the apartment where she lived alone. Where they could be alone.
As her eyes found Greta’s to communicate this mutual understanding, they both felt their skin getting hot, and wondered how early was too early to abandon a good party.
That question was answered about a half an hour later when finally the group began to say their goodbyes.
One by one the players filed out of the bar until at last, alone on the sidewalk in the flickering glow of a neon sign, Carson and Greta finally faced each other. Though they knew they couldn’t touch, something settled within them both, able to breathe and take the other in at the end of a whirlwind day, their bodies buzzing in anticipation of the night ahead.
“Hi.” Greta’s voice was soft, content, relieved.
“Hi.” Carson matched her.
“So whaddaya say, Shaw? Any room at the inn?”
Carson just smiled and tilted her head, indicating Greta to follow her lead.
They got on the train and kept the conversation light, their hands folded strictly in their laps. One stop, two stops, three stops, four stops, then finally the doors parted and they alighted onto the platform.
“It’s like a 15-minute walk from here, sorry.” Carson said, taking one of Greta’s bags.
“I’ve got nothing but time.”
Carson was suddenly a bit nervous to bring Greta into her space. She’d cleaned it and gotten it looking nice on the miraculous hope that this would happen, but still, she could only imagine what kind of lifestyle Greta was living in New York.
They finally arrived at Carson’s courtyard building and made their way up three flights of stairs.
Carson unlocked the door and turned on a lamp in the entryway.
Greta set down her bags and took in as much of the space as she needed to think through her next move. She could spy the kitchen to her right, the living room straight ahead, and the bedroom just beyond it.
Carson shut the door once they were both inside and went about fixing the space. Once every lock had been latched and every curtain and blind drawn, Carson made her way back to the foyer where Greta waited patiently.
In a moment, Carson’s hands were on Greta’s hips, pushing her against the door. Their lips crashed together and their hands made quick work of traveling wherever they wanted to roam. Feeling Greta’s fingers in her hair again, Carson sighed into their kiss. Suddenly she made sense again.
Greta pushed Carson away from the door and began directing their shuffling feet toward at least the living room, unsure they’d make it all the way to the bedroom.
Just as she bumped against the arm of the sofa, Carson paused for courtesy.
“Wait, do you wanna like…talk first or something?” she asked breathlessly, Greta’s lipstick smeared all over her face. Greta barely paused, her hands firmly planted on Carson’s backside.
“Um…we could do that,” she began. “Or I could undo your dress with my teeth?” Greta beamed.
“We can talk after, that’s fine,” Carson muttered, shaking her head, and letting Greta guide her back onto the couch.
——————————————————————————————
Hours later, the lovers sat up in bed, scattered sheets pulled up under their arms against the chill coming through the window. Greta stared into the middle distance, a dumb smile on her face, and took a lazy drag on her cigarette before handing it to Carson.
“Damn, coach,” Greta mused, replaying everything that had just happened like a highlight reel of game footage in her mind.
Carson was still wide-eyed and reeling.
“That was…amazing,” she sighed. Greta rolled toward her, and Carson brought her arm around her. Greta reclaimed the cigarette from Carson as she nestled against her.
“You got some new moves,” Greta purred.
“Yeah?” Carson said with a cocky smirk. Greta leaned up and gave her a seductive kiss.
“That thing you did with your tongue? I’m jealous of whoever taught you that.”
Greta could feel Carson’s energy change against her body. Her breathing, her softness, she tightened up. Greta shut her eyes, sensing the mistake she’d made, bracing herself for Carson’s response.
“Heh. Yeah,” Carson muttered. But the smallness of her voice, and the hurt and confusion beneath it couldn’t be denied. Greta cursed herself silently, but appreciated Carson’s decision to move past the remark for the sake of preserving this night of perfect bliss.
To smooth over the moment once and for all, Greta moved to be above Carson, tracing kisses down her face and neck.
“God I missed this face,” she crooned. It made Carson smile. That’s all that mattered to her. And in this moment of vulnerability, in this apartment that felt for tonight like a place they could play house, Greta wondered if anything in her life would ever matter more than making Carson Shaw smile. Didn’t sound like such a bad life.
She leaned up and kissed her, and Carson held her close. They had done the soul-searching they’d promised themselves they would do, but neither could deny that returning to each other felt more right than anything had for months.
They faded off to sleep as the early April moon shone through the broken top blinds of Carson’s bedroom window.
——————————————————————————————
The next morning, Greta awoke lying on her side, not feeling Carson’s smaller body cradling her as it had been through the night. She reached out her arm only to discover an empty bed.
A pit began to form in her stomach, thinking back on the crack she’d made about Carson learning new tricks in bed. She was just as uninterested in learning who Carson might have slept with during the off-season as she was sure Carson was about her. But Carson’s response had been different than she expected. It wasn’t simply not wanting to kiss and tell, and that made her worry.
Greta pulled on a robe she found in the bathroom, flannel, that came only to her knees.
She found Carson in the kitchen already dressed in her practice clothes, fixing a breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and grapefruit.
Greta came behind her and wrapped her arms around her. The experience of walking into a kitchen in nothing but a slip and a robe and finding Carson fixing breakfast was one she intended to savor. Her mind could hardly wrap around the idea of a whole week of this, assuming she would be staying here through training until they boarded the bus up to Rockford.
“Good morning,” Greta breathed. She pulled Carson’s hair aside and kissed at her neck, slipping a hand under Carson’s shirt. Carson couldn’t help but lean back against her and crane her neck up for a kiss.
“Good morning,” she replied.
“I missed you.”
“I get up with the dawn most days.”
“Really? I never knew that about you.”
“Since living here at least. The sunrise comes through the window pretty bright.”
Greta could hear distance in her voice. It made her sick with worry.
“Is there coffee?” she asked, kissing Carson’s shoulder and moving away from her. Carson gestured toward the percolator on the stove as she finished cooking.
Carson spooned out some well-done eggs onto two plates, platters of bacon and toast already set. Greta poured herself some coffee and took a seat, propping one leg up on the adjacent chair and getting comfortable as she reached for the fruit.
“Last night was incredible,” Carson offered. Greta smiled, glad to hear it.
“It really was.” She reached over and brushed a piece of hair out of Carson’s eyes and stroked her cheek.
“Can I…can I ask you something?” Carson asked.
“Anything” Greta replied, hoping she was hiding how fast her heart was beating.
“When you said ‘I’m jealous of whoever taught you that’ what did you mean?”
“Forget I said it. What happened in the off-season…It’s been 8 months and we promised we wouldn’t have strings. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“We promised we wouldn’t — what?” Carson’s tone was quickly turning from confusion to anger. Greta stopped eating. “Greta there hasn’t…I haven’t been with anyone else,” Carson explained.
Greta’s stomach dropped, unable to hide the look of surprise on her face as she processed this mixture of shock, regret, resentment, and a desire to simply kiss Carson quiet and make her feel better. But it was too late. Carson had read her.
“I guess you have, though.” The sound of her voice, the hurt in it. It broke Greta’s heart.
“Carson we didn’t…we never talked about that. We never made any rules about that.”
Carson shifted in her chair. Greta regrouped as best she could, ready to try her damnedest to salvage this reunion she had been waiting for every day since September.
Carson steeled herself, feeling like a sap. Greta and her rules. Of course. How could she have possibly assumed this woman—who could have anyone she wanted—would have waited for her?
“No you’re right. You’re right. It’s just…I’ve just really been looking forward to seeing you again and, and picking things back up with you.”
“I’ve been looking forward to that too,” Greta said, soft, earnest. “Of course I have.”
“I guess I’m just confused because…your letters. It seemed like…”
“Carson, my feelings for you haven’t changed at all.”
“But, for you to not say anything in your letters about it,” Carson challenged.
“Why would I? It was nothing. It meant nothing. You were away, I knew I wouldn’t see you for a year—,”
“It’s been like 8 months.”
“I was in New York! I was bored and lonely! I don’t know what you want me to say,” Greta explained, frustrated by Carson’s obstinance. Greta knew she had done nothing wrong and she wouldn’t let Carson guilt her into thinking she had.
“Well if you’re bored get a hobby! I don’t know! Get a plant or a pet or something!”
“Carson,” Greta started, keeping her voice as measured as possible against the anger she was feeling. “I’m sorry your feelings are hurt, but you have no right to be upset with me.”
Carson looked at her in shock.
“I asked you to come with me,” Greta reminded her.
Carson’s face fell. She suddenly looked so tired, so misunderstood. It made Greta even sicker. She didn’t feel guilt for what she’d done, but she couldn’t fight how much it pained her to see Carson look at her like that.
“I think,” Carson began, her voice small, hurt, embarrassed, nervous. “I think I should head down to Baker. I’m the coach and everything so…probably should be there early. You know how to get there from the train? Or or there’s a number for a cab company by the phone.”
“Carson…” Greta pleaded as Carson began hurriedly cleaning up her breakfast and getting her bag together. Greta just sat there, helpless, watching her. Only hours ago they were in bliss, now Carson was heading out the door without so much as a glance back at her.
“Goddamnit.” Greta spoke into the empty kitchen. She pushed her breakfast away, lit a cigarette, and collapsed her face in her hands.
——————————————————————————————
Day Two of training was more rigorous than the first. Carson was in full coach mode, more confident and assertive than any of the Peaches had ever seen her. Greta was woefully attracted to her, and felt all the more regretful of how the morning had transpired.
Still, she had no intention of apologizing for what Carson deemed her transgressions. They hadn’t made any promises to each other. Carson had said goodbye in no uncertain terms. “See you next season” didn’t automatically mean “No fun until we get back.” She was a grown woman able to make her own decisions. Of course she had indulged. What else was she supposed to do with the longing that plagued her every waking thought while she wandered New York without so much as a word from Carson?
When that first postcard arrived, it was manna from heaven. Greta felt revived to receive it, worried Carson had forgotten her entirely or worse, gone back to Charlie, or even worser, started something serious with another woman.
Once they began writing more frequently, Greta’s interests in the women around her waned, as she knew they would. She had one night with a woman from out of town that she cut short because all she could think about was the portrait she had sent off to Carson, wondering what Carson was doing to herself or to someone else while looking at that portrait.
No, despite her best efforts to protect herself and enjoy some meaningless sex, all Greta wanted was Carson’s love and Carson’s love only. Nothing else would do.
But because she hadn’t been purely steadfast, now Carson was ready to throw in the towel entirely? She simply didn’t accept this, but was not going to be the one to come crawling.
“You’ve got your bags again,” Jo observed on a break from practice, wandering over to Greta from where she’d been huddled with some teammates from the Blue Sox.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Shaw kick you out?” Jo asked jokingly.
“Yes, actually. Thank you for that.”
Jo’s face fell. “Wait, what?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well we’re gonna. Tonight at the hotel. Assuming that’s where you’ll be.”
Greta nodded. Jo started to walk away but Greta pulled her back, bringing her in for a hug. Greta buried her face in Jo’s shoulder for no more than one full second, just to get some emotion out to her best friend in this moment, needing comfort. Jo squeezed her tight before letting go.
At the end of the day, the Peaches gathered around for a final pep talk from Carson. She gave notes, praised performance, and amped them up for the third day of training.
As she wandered away from the team without a look back, Greta felt her heart sink that much more. This was not how tonight was meant to end. It was meant to end with them back at Carson’s apartment, Greta having claimed a drawer for her things, maybe even trying to cook dinner for them but burning it, and staying up talking and falling away into bed together.
Instead, Greta packed up her things, put on a smile, and tried to find any plausible excuse she could give as to why she still had her suitcase with her.
When she finally settled back in at the hotel, relief overwhelmed her. She flopped down face first onto the bed, almost wanting to cry into the pillow, but the sound of a knock at her door interrupted.
“Bird?” came Jo’s voice. The door opened, and there was her best friend, armed with two thumbs of bourbon and a bottle tucked under her arm.
Greta sat up and took the glass offered to her. She downed it in one. Jo raised her eyebrows but only poured her more, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.
“So. Spill.”
“I feel like a fucking idiot,” Greta confessed. “We had…this amazing night. And then I made some crack about whatever she might have gotten up to during the—you know—MONTHS I didn’t hear from her, and she tells me she hasn’t been with anyone else.”
Jo nodded, realizing where this was all going. “And you have.”
“Of course! I assumed she had too! I mean…I’m the only woman she’s been with. It’s not crazy to assume she wanted to get out there more, I thought that was the entire goddamn point of it. Otherwise she would have come with me to New York.”
Jo furrowed her brow at this. “I mean…I think she had plenty of good reasons not to come with you to New York.”
“Such as?”
“Such as a lot of the same reasons I didn’t want to follow you to New York. She’s her own person. You woke something up in her, no doubt about that but…come on. What was she gonna do in New York?”
“…be with me,” Greta sighed, her voice small, as if this was the obvious and correct answer. She sipped her bourbon with self-pity. Jo couldn’t help but smile a little at her friend.
“Look at you.”
“What?”
“I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Since Dana, you mean?”
“No. Ever.”
Greta pulled herself together, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t feel guilty about it.”
“Yes you do. A little bit. And a little bit of your heart is doing flips at the idea that Carson stayed true this whole time.”
“Will you stop?” Greta said, blushing. “I get it. I was wrong.”
“You weren’t wrong. You never made plans, you never made promises, and you didn’t hear from her. You weren’t wrong. I guess I’m just wondering why? I mean, I get that a girl’s gotta eat, but…did you really think she’d moved on?”
Greta shrugged. “I don’t know. I was scared. It felt good to find something easy.”
“Carson scares you?”
Greta finished her second drink and thought for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft, vulnerable. “Not Carson. It’s me I’m afraid of. It’s everything else.”
Jo leaned back, encouraging her to continue.
“This time apart, Jo…I know they say absence makes the heart grow bigger—,”
“Fonder.”
“That too. But I don’t know how much bigger mine can get. And that scares me.”
Greta looked up and met Jo’s sympathetic eyes. Jo smiled at her friend, not wanting to name the feeling Greta had just expressed, knowing that to do so would scare it farther into herself. But Jo marveled at the sight of a Greta she had never seen before: Greta in love, grown-up love, not the kind she’d had as a 17-year-old with Dana. This was the kind of love that Jo knew terrified Greta the most. The kind that just might have a future. A real one.
——————————————————————————————
The last two days of spring training went by quicker than the first as the teams found their rhythm again. New players were assigned and by Saturday, the bands of women were loading onto their buses, off to their home turfs for the season.
Carson’s cold shoulder had now frozen over, and at this point any guilt or self-pity Greta was feeling had fully calcified into anger and indignation.
As the Peaches loaded onto the bus, Carson took her place at the front without a seat mate. The row opposite her was occupied by their new chaperone, Evelyn. Beverly had been reassigned to the brand new Illinois team, the Peoria Redwings.
Evelyn was tall, with an imposing willowy frame. She reminded Carson of her high school math teacher, the one that had actually called her stupid out loud during class once. Her face seemed contorted into a permanent scowl.
“Is that everyone?” Evelyn asked, standing and taking a head count. But there was one looming redhead missing.
“Sorry! Sorry, had to give a soldier some good luck before we set off,” came the sound of Greta’s performative flirty voice as she stepped onto the bus. Carson made sure her eye-roll was big enough to be seen from space.
“Fine. Take a seat, Miss Gill.”
Greta combed over the completely full bus, looking for a seat that would keep her far away from Carson, who was now crammed so far up against the window she looked like she might try to crawl out of it, her arms crossed tight.
“Here, next to Coach Shaw,” Evelyn ordered. Greta couldn’t help but be intimidated by Evelyn’s demeanor and so did as she was told with a smile as false as the kiss she’d given that soldier.
Greta plopped down next to Carson as the bus chugged off.
“So,” she finally said softly after a good 10 minutes of silence. “We’re still doing this?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m just enjoying the view,” Carson replied.
“You’re really just not gonna talk to me anymore? How’s that supposed to work when we’re on the field?”
“When we’re on the field I’m your coach. That’s different.”
“Right, right. So you only want to talk to me when you can control me. Got it.”
Carson turned to her, wanting to snap back at this, but knowing they had to stay quiet.
“I’m not…I don’t want to control you, Greta. You know that.”
“Really? Because it feels like I’m being punished for not following your rules. Which I didn’t even know existed.”
“What like you’ve never done that to me?”
Greta opened her mouth to reply but found she didn’t have a good comeback to that.
“I can’t believe we waited 8 months to see each other and now you’re not even talking to me,” Greta said, broaching sincerity.
“I can’t believe you couldn’t even wait 8 months.”
Greta whipped her head at Carson, forcing her to make eye contact. Carson could see she’d gone too far.
“You know what? Fuck this.”
Greta stood up and made her way to Shirley a few rows back. Carson overheard her explain that sitting in the front row gave her motion sickness and could they switch. Shirley profusely agreed and soon enough Carson had a new seat mate.
——————————————————————————————
That night, as the women settled into the boarding house, Carson unpacked her suitcase alongside her new roommate, Maybelle, chipper as ever.
“Roomin’ with the coach how important am I?” she mused. Carson smiled at her.
Her clothes were all put away in drawers, her gear all organized the way she liked it in the corner. The only things left in her suitcase were her personal items. She remembered this same moment last year, looking down at Charlie’s photo and letters. Now she looked down at Greta’s. And suddenly the journey she’d been on to get to this moment seemed to flash before her eyes like a movie.
She didn’t feel a great need to hide them from Maybelle, knowing she was a friend and wouldn’t get them into trouble. And frankly, Carson assumed anyone who’d been on the team last year had figured her out.
Maybelle could sense Carson lingering over her case.
“Need help with something sweet cheeks?” she asked, trotting over to see what the problem was. She stopped when she saw what Carson was looking at.
“Well isn’t that just too sweet for words. You two write to each other in the off-season?”
“Yeah, just uh…you know I wrote to a few people. Just pen pals,” Carson still felt a little uneasy talking openly about it with anyone other than Jess, Jo, or Lupe.
Maybelle cocked her eyebrow.
“Well you didn’t write to me,” she challenged, not accepting Carson’s dodge.
“I didn’t have your address?”
“Listen, coach. I know I don’t always seem too quick on the uptake, but I want you to know, long as you’re my roomie, your secrets are safe with me. And for what it’s worth, I think you two are just about the most adorable pair I’ve seen.”
Carson blushed. “Yeah?”
“Of course! She’s so much taller than you, it’s too much.”
“Oh…um, yeah, thanks?” Carson said, not sure if that was a compliment.
“Listen if you two got some, uh…more catching up to do, you tell me to scram whenever. Sock on the door like back in my sorority days.”
“Thanks. But…it’s not happening anymore. I think we’re done.”
Maybelle gave her a sour look and put her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about? I saw you two at Baker you’re a couple of smitten kittens!”
“We were, but…”
“But what? What could have possibly happened in 3 days?”
“I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Sorry, Coach. Not gonna cut it.”
Maybelle sat on her bed and patted the space beside her. Carson trudged over to join.
“During the off-season, when she was in New York and I was in Idaho basically blowing up my whole life, she was having random flings.”
Maybelle frowned. “Did you agree to be steadies after last season?”
“Well, no, but…I just assumed.”
“Is she still sweet on any of them?”
“No. I don’t think any of them were lasting.”
“And what about her letters? She seem like she’s over you?”
Carson was starting to hear herself.
“No.”
“And when you got…reacquainted. Was it fireworks or…” she made a raspberry and a downward gesture with her thumb.
“Definitely fireworks.”
“Hm. Sounds like you really ought to end things, then,” Maybelle said sarcastically. She gave Carson a gentle smile. Carson sighed, exasperated, and put her head in her hands.
“I’m an idiot,” she muttered. Maybelle rubbed her back.
“Only if you keep sitting here.”
——————————————————————————————
Greta and Jess were rooming together again, much to both of their relief. It felt good to have a chance to catch up in private and feel easy and open with each other. But they both agreed they didn’t want to get into their woman drama on the first night. Plenty of time for all that. For now the order of the evening was a few beers and a game of cards before bed.
Just as Greta was about to win their game of Crazy Eights, a knock came at the door.
“Come in?” Greta said, exchanging a curious look with Jess.
Carson gingerly opened the door. Greta’s chest got tight.
“Um, I was just uh…I was gonna go to the store, if…” she stammered.
Jess furrowed their brow. “Shaw I’ve literally been to a gay bar with you guys.”
“Right.”
Greta’s mind was racing. The fact that Carson was here, hoping to get her alone, made her heart swell with hope.
“Can we talk?” Carson asked. Greta put down the final card in her hand.
“I win,” she said to Jess before turning to Carson. “Let’s go.”
Jess grumbled over the cards and gathered them up. Greta followed a silent Carson through the house and out to the carriage house. But any hope began to fade when upon entering, Carson didn’t immediately jump her bones.
“How are you?” Greta broached, leaning back on the dusty table that sat against the wall. She remembered when Carson had lifted her onto that table a year ago only to hear a lamp shatter and scare them both into giggles. She watched Carson pace back and forth in front of her.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting,” Carson began.
“I understand.”
“Last summer…” she began, finding her words as they came to her, making sure she spoke squarely from the heart. Greta stood patiently by, hanging on her every word. “You went to New York and…you knew I couldn’t come with you,” she explained softly. “You knew if I was gonna start my life over, I had to do it for me, not for you.”
The truth of Carson’s words stopped Greta dead in her tracks. Of course she was right. If they were going to build something real, something lasting, like they both desperately wanted to, they had to come to it honestly, as their full individual selves. Carson couldn’t live her life only for Greta.
“What happened, Carson? I left at the start of September and then I didn’t hear a word from you until December. Where did you go?”
Carson took a deep breath, finally ready to tell her the truth.
“Charlie caught us,” Carson began. Greta’s face transformed into shock and fear.
“Wait what? When?” she asked.
“The day you left. He…he came to surprise me and he saw us say goodbye on the porch.”
Greta stood up from the table and moved toward Carson, unable to fight her body’s instinct to comfort and protect her. She stopped just short of touching her, unsure if Carson would reject it and not wanting to find out.
“Are you…are you all right? What happened?”
“I didn’t really know what to do right then. I went back to Idaho with him. He was really upset. And I was scared of what he’d do or say to other people. I tried to explain, but…I don’t know, I panicked. I told him I’d try to make it work between us. He said I could never see you or talk to you again. And he recommended I see a doctor.”
“Jesus, Carson.” Greta shut her eyes to stop the tears from forming. She could feel the pain and shame in Carson’s voice. She wanted so badly to pull her into her arms and not let go.
“I told him I wouldn’t. I told him there was nothing wrong with me. I don’t think he wanted to get me in trouble or anything he was just…he was so hurt.”
Greta couldn’t help but smile a little, filling with admiration that Carson had found the strength to stand up for herself, for them.
“What did you do?”
“The night before I was supposed to see this doctor, I packed a bag and left. I think he knew I was going to. I left him a note, got on a train to Chicago. First I was in a boarding house until I could get my hands on my own money again. I was there until he finally divorced me and helped me sort things out so I could pay rent. Found my apartment around Thanksgiving, and that’s when I started writing to you.”
Greta was reeling.
“Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?” she asked in disbelief. “I would have been on a train to you in a minute.”
Carson smiled weakly.
“I was afraid it would scare you away.”
Greta sighed, unable to muster an answer to that. She let a tear or two fall at last.
“Will he come after you?”
“I don’t think so. In my letter I told him I didn’t care if he did. I told him I won’t spend my life running away from myself anymore. We both knew our marriage was over anyway. And if he ever actually loved me, he would want me to be happy.”
Greta nodded, fighting her instinct to fear the worst.
“I had to figure myself out, Greta. I had to figure out what else I wanted from life.”
“‘What else’ you wanted?” Greta asked after her meaning.
“Besides you.”
Greta took a deep breath as her heart seemed to burst open. She hadn’t realized she’d been guarding it since they’d reunited, unsure of where exactly she stood. The size of their feelings still hovered over them in a way that thrilled and terrified them both in equal measure.
Carson took a step toward her.
“You’re right that we never made any rules. You’re right. I don’t get to be jealous about that. And it’s not like I didn’t have any offers—,”
“Of course you did, you’re beautiful,” Greta interjected matter-of-factly. Carson blushed but pushed through, fighting back emotion.
“I just didn’t want to be with anyone else because…I didn’t see the point. These last few months. I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve gotten a lot of the clarity I was looking for and part of that was realizing…I already know that I love yo—want you. I already know that I want you,” she hurriedly corrected.
It took a second for the word to hit Greta. When it did, her whole body shifted. She stood up straight.
“What did you just say?” she said softly, not wanting to scare the words away as they hung in the air.
“I said I know that I want you. I’m sure that I want you,” Carson nervously over-corrected. “And you know, I’m excited to just keep it casual. Keep it cazzzhh because I can be that! I can be a casual lover. That’s my middle name, baby. You know me, Carson “Casual” Shaw—,”
“I love you too.”
Greta had never seen Carson smile like she did in that moment, a grin that bloomed over her face slowly, the joy overcoming her in real time.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’m so in love with you it’s actually crazy. Like it makes me feel actively insane,” Greta continued.
“That sounds pretty bad, to be honest.”
“It is. I’ll be sitting at my desk typing away and then my brain will go, ‘Hey remember Carson’s dimple?’ and then I just sit there staring into space for the rest of the afternoon.”
Carson began closing the distance between them.
“That can’t be good for your job performance.”
“Oh no I’m already on thin ice. Please don’t tell my boss.”
“Hey your secrets are safe with me,” Carson said. And she meant it.
“I know,” Greta answered breathlessly, finally pulling Carson in for the kiss they’d been waiting to give each other since they had first parted ways all those months ago.
More than their first night back in Carson’s apartment, this kiss held everything they had left unsaid in their letters, collapsing the time since that morning on the porch. This kiss, as it unraveled them, was full of hope and passion, a return to each other, and the promise of a future. A future together. This was the beginning.