Chapter Text
“I guess you should drop the music thing, Carson, and focus on something else… Something more productive, maybe?”
“What the hell did you say, Charlie?”
Carson couldn’t believe they were having the exact same discussion again. She couldn’t believe he was doing the exact same things she thought were over.
“You have to be realistic… You’re not making much by playing these gigs… You should look for a real job.”
Carson scoffed at his words. “My partner, the person who should support me, has decided to throw me under the train again.” She walked furiously all around the living room, grabbing her hair and trying to calm her breath. “Was this Meg’s idea? Yours?” She breathed harshly, trying her best to not break anything. “I am tired of you all telling me what to do with my life!”
“Carson, we need to think about our future!” Charlie rose from the couch and walked towards her girlfriend. “We need to get serious. I know you love music but…”
“But what, Charlie?” Carson crossed her arms while looking at him. “Say it. Say this is meaningless and that I need to get a grip on reality and whatever shit you want me to hear.”
“You need to find a job if you want us to live together.”
“Oh, so now we have terms? As if this was a contract? Fuck you!” Carson pushed him and immediately went to their bedroom.
She was tired of hearing that, the same old discussions about “making money” or “having a real job”. Carson knew that becoming a successful musician was a long shot and she might not make it, but she wanted to try. She needed to. It was her only dream: to play for people, to share what she created with everyone. But no one around her seemed to support that.
Carson felt that conversation was the last straw; she didn’t feel she belonged in Boise since she was a kid. There was always something people didn’t like about her - her clothes, her hair, her way of talking… All of her was a subject of intense scrutiny, even in her own family. Meg always treated her firmly, trying to make Carson a small replica of her. And Carson tried as hard as she could to fit in the norms and the customs people wanted her to fulfill, but it wasn’t enough. It grew worse when Carson’s mother left one day, with no explanation. Simply, one day she wasn’t there. Just three letters - one for her father, one for Meg and one for her. Since that day, Meg treated Carson even more severely; her attitude started to draw a crack between them that grew bigger each day. A division that was difficult to mend. Carson’s father, Arthur, grew silent and lonelier. No one talked about why Lisa left, it was a forbidden topic at their home. After fifteen years, no one dared to say a word about it. And Carson never found the strength to read the letter.
She started to pack. She couldn’t bear to spend one more day in her hometown, having to tolerate that attitude, the disrespect they put into their words… It was too much, and she needed to break from that environment once and for all. She took a handful of t-shirts, her shirts, all the jeans she could fit in her suitcase. She grabbed everything while she tried to hold back the tears. She tried to be good, to be nice, to be compliant with everyone but she couldn’t. She felt she was a broken piece in everyone’s plan, a malfunctioning mechanism that was just useless.
She felt the air was missing from her lungs - she couldn’t breathe, her hands, her legs were shaking and she needed to sit to calm herself down for a minute. Maybe they’re right, I’m just trying to chase an impossible dream or something… And I need to find something else to do…, she thought as she cried silently in her bedroom, poorly illuminated by the lamp on her nightstand. She felt so small she could disappear any minute. She grabbed the pick her mother had left her in her envelope and held onto it as if it was the only thing that could keep her feet on the ground.
She remembered then the late evenings when her mother taught her to play the guitar - first the chords, then some easy melodies, then adaptations of her favorite songs. They spent many days practicing in the living room, surrounded by music, the soft humming of the fingers brushing the strings, and the talks about everything and pure nothingness at the same time. Carson cherished those memories more than anything in the world. She feared of losing them, forgetting what made her happy. She feared of losing the thin connection she had with her mother - the pick, her guitar, all of those comforting memories… And the music.
Carson wiped her tears and kept on packing her things, slower this time, more thoughtful. What she would need to go to anywhere in the country. She filled her suitcase with pretty much every piece of clothing she had, a bag with her chord replacements for her guitar, and some more accessories. Her notebook, her mother’s letter, her woodcarving tools, and the piece she was working on. After an hour, Carson felt she had packed everything she needed, and finally exited the bedroom.
Charlie was sitting on the couch, talking on the phone.
“No… But… No, no, it’s not like that… You know how she is…”
“Charlie…” Carson said with a small voice.
“Sorry, Meg. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone and walked towards Carson. “Why… Why have you packed your things?”
“We need to talk.” Carson left the bag on the floor. “Actually, we don’t. Everything is clear now and…” She struggled to say what she wanted. “I… We… Uh, eh… It’s over. We are over.”
Charlie swallowed hard. “Wait, what? Are you breaking up with me?”
“Yeah.” She collected her bag and walked towards the door. “I guess it’s the best for both of us.”
“But we can talk, Carson! We can try to make this right again!”
“No, stop saying that! We can’t! We aren’t on the same page anymore.” She stomped into her pickup, a 2013 Honda Ridgeline. She opened the back door and threw her guitar and bag there, then loaded her suitcase between the back and the front seats. “I need a fresh start, and, unfortunately, Boise isn’t a place where I can do that.”
“Carson, c’mon! What are you even saying?”
“I am tired of all of your stupid nonsense about getting a grip on reality! I am tired of your lectures! I am tired of being undermined every single day!” Carson walked furiously towards him. “Stop plotting behind my back with Meg about my life, Charlie.”
“You’ve been acting strange lately and we thought you needed help.” His tone changed for the first time on the whole evening. He sounded more serious, angrier even. His words were like flying daggers around Carson, threatening her.
“Acting strangely? Wow, a new way to say that I am weird and I do not fit in your standards.”
“You’ve changed, Carson. You’re not the girl I fell in love with.” Charlie was spiteful, resentful towards her. His blood boiled as his words erupted from his throat, piercing his now ex-girlfriend.
That hurt Carson deep, as if she had been stabbed in the chest. “I guess I’m not, Charlie. Not anymore.”
Without saying anything else, Carson opened the driver’s door and stepped into the car, starting it immediately. The light of a late June afternoon bathed the neighborhood and Carson’s tears as she drove east, leaving the orange hues of the sunset behind her back. She felt the weight of her decision as soon as she left her neighborhood - she didn’t have a place to go to, no friends to call and ask to stay with for a few days. She was on her own, in her car, with her mouth full of regrets but the feeling of being unable to go back. Before turning into the Interstate 84, Carson decided to pay a visit to his father. She felt she owed him an explanation of why she was leaving. At least I’m not repeating my mother’s mistakes, she thought as she pulled in the driveway of her family’s house.
Carson felt a cool wind dancing around her, making her shiver, before she knocked on the wooden door of the entrance. A minute later, the door opened slowly, and Arthur smiled quietly when she saw her daughter waiting there.
“Carse, honey…”
“Hey, dad…” she replied softly, lowering her eyes and entering the house with a little fear.
“What’s the matter? Do you need something?” He looked at Carson’s eyes with love but also with a faint reflection of worry. “Did you argue with Charlie again?”
“Uh… Yeah, kinda. It’s…” She bit her lip. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen? I need to tell you something.”
He led the way without saying a word. He sat on one of the chairs around the wooden table and asked Carson to do the same. “Well… What’s the matter?”
“It’s… Complicated, dad. I… I just… I’m leaving Boise.” She swallowed hard. “Right now.” Carson felt how his father’s eyes grew sadder, and she felt he had shrunk on the chair. “I need to get out of here. I had an argument with Charlie again about what I was doing with my life, and he’s been talking to Meg about me acting weird or some shit, and I feel I’m hitting a wall here. I just can’t… I’m not comfortable here, I need a change.” She started crying. “I need to leave, to get out of this vicious circle I’m in and just… Understand who I am.”
After a few minutes of Carson sobbing in silence, Arthur finally spoke. “You’re like your mother, Carson. And that’s okay.”
“Aren’t you angry? Or sad? Or just… Disappointed? You said it! I’m like her, I’m just running away!” Carson sighed. “Well, it’s not like I’m disappearing without a trace but I just need… Space. Putting some perspective into all of this.”
“I could never be angry with you. You have gone through a lot of things… This could be good for you.”
“Do you think so? Meg wouldn’t agree…”
“Well, Meg isn’t here so you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll talk to her later.” He stood up and went to to hug Carson. “Some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Have you thought where you’re headed?”
“No… Not yet. As eastern I can go.”
“New York? Chicago? Those seem to be good options. Big cities… Full of opportunities for people like you.”
“Maybe I should aim for something smaller?” Carson laughed quietly in her father’s arms. “I think I’ll figure it out on my way.”
“Be safe out there, please, Carse.”
“I’m sure I’ll be, dad. I’ll try to call as much as I can.”
Arthur kissed Carson’s forehead before she exited the kitchen with a little less of a heartbreak, less of a loss, less of a burden. Somehow, she felt understood at last, less alone knowing that her father perceived her need to fly away, to escape the golden prison that Boise had become to her. She started the car and played her rock playlist at full blast, heading East, as far as her car could take her. Ready to start by Arcade Fire was the first song, followed by some Incubus, Brandi Carlile and The Killers. As the night drew its dark mantle over the road and mountains, Carson thought she should have planned her trip along the country better. She had little idea where to spend the night, or nights, she would be travelling, and of course, she didn’t plan the route. She just wanted to go east.
She was already two hours away from Boise and she felt the need, for the first time in the whole day, to rest. Her body had consumed all the adrenaline and she felt exhausted. She found a small motel near Twin Falls, right beside the Interstate 84, and decided to spend the night there. As soon as she hit the bed, she fell asleep. And she dreamed of being far away, of flying like a bird. She dreamed of escaping her reality and being able to be born in another. She dreamed of her mother, of what made her leave, of her letter. And she dreamed of what was wrong with her, what made everyone around her leave, what she needed to find to fix it.
As the first lights of dawn painted the room, Carson woke up, sweaty and nervous. She felt rested but something inside her was revolving, making a riot. She felt her muscles sore, her hands tired, and her mind clogged. A shower should make me feel better was the first thought she could muster without getting a headache.
She let the hot and cold water run all over her body, washing her guilt away. She felt as if she had betrayed her family - Meg, her father, Charlie… Even her mother. But she needed to mend herself, make amends, and try to get her life together. She felt as if she had just done something very stupid, running away like that, with no warning, not letting people have their goodbyes or explaining herself. Carson felt her anxiety creeping over her, the monster she had had on her shoulder for far too long. She felt its claws ripping through her skin, injecting her the worst outcomes of this trip. She felt its doomed voice saying she would soon return to Boise. It chanted that she wasn’t brave enough to pull this together.
And she screamed, she fell to her knees in the shower, she felt the burden heavier than ever on her back. She felt her past mistakes drawing circles, spinning around her, fogging her judgement and making her weak. Fear had taken her body hostage, and she cried, she let the anger and the emotions flow through her. She had left her home, her family and her boyfriend to try to find herself around the roads of the USA. She had left a somehow decent life to find a new adventure, a thrill that could make her feel alive.
But during her first night out, on her own, she found fear around the corner, waiting for her and welcoming Carson into its cold arms.
The lukewarm water continued to wash over her body for minutes that felt like hours. Carson finally stood up and turned off the tap. The towel felt harsh and raspy against her skin, but somehow, she felt okay with that. She looked herself in the mirror, hoping to find an answer to all of her problems, but she only got a gaunter reflection, a tired face, who had known no rest in quite some time. She put on the same clothes and went downstairs to grab something to eat and enough caffeine to keep her awake enough to drive. Carson sat down on a table to plan her driving for that day - she would get to Rock Springs, make a little stop to rest, and end her day in Cheyenne.
As soon as she gobbled down her breakfast, she jumped on her car and started driving. She enjoyed the solitude her Honda gave her, just her with her music and the landscapes she could see all over the road. She sang all the songs until she felt breathless, she thought of songs she wished she would have written, and she even wrote lyrics for unwritten songs on her head. Carson felt something she could label as happiness for the first time in many years. Pure, enthusiastic happiness all over her body and her nerves. And she felt free.
She arrived at Cheyenne right before the sunset, and she enjoyed how the sun disappeared while she was looking for a place to stay at night. Carson picked up something to eat in a local burger place and ate it under the warmth of June’s nights.
Despite the good mood she had been having all day, sleeping time went hard on her. She couldn’t fall sleep and she felt uncomfortable in the bed. The lyrics to Notion by Tash Sultana resounded inside her head with insistence. All of the verses were carved by fire around her, the chords of the guitar on a loop in her ears, and in front of her, a blurry vision. As she closed her eyes, her mind drifted and she could hear an unknown voice calling for her, saying there was nothing wrong with her. A mysterious figure offering her a hand and answers. A voice repeating the same part of the song all over again:
I'm in the deep end, ocean
Calling out my name
Singing hallelujah to you
She woke up with an unsettling feeling, something clenching in her stomach, quite different from the panic attack she’d had in Twin Falls. She could sense anticipation but also fear —she didn’t know anyone near there, and she had little intention of meeting someone. Carson craved time for herself, time to think, time to heal.
While she had breakfast, she planned the route she would take. Omaha would be the destination for the day. She committed to pulling the seven-hour drive with just a few stops in gas stations, not actual towns. The anticipation, fear and anxiety grew on her. She needed to reach some place near Chicago, or even the damn city, so she could have some ease. The solo trip was awakening a great deal of feelings inside of her, many of them she wasn’t ready to cope with. Carson felt raw, unhinged even. All the best and the worst of her were shining through. Every single virtue and sin were on display for everyone to see, feel, touch, hear and taste. She felt exposed, but at the same time, she felt somehow free, the truest she had ever been.
The trip to Omaha felt somehow repetitive; the songs sounded the same, she didn’t have the energy she had the first day and being alone with her thoughts didn’t do her any good. She felt clogged, asphyxiated, and tired of the lame idea she had. Why in the seven hells did I decide to make this stupid trip, running away from my fucking hometown like some hurt prey and drive through who knows how many states to get to fucking nowhere, Carson musted as she chugged another coffee. Her mind was racing, and despite being tired, she needed to keep on driving. Driving until she couldn’t feel a thing. She looked for a town near Chicago and picked Rockford.
And she drove, as the day faded and night engulfed every single tree, mountain and lake. She drove with the only idea of getting to that damn town, calling her father, apologizing and going back home. It had been a stupid idea and she was paying the consequences of her actions. Nightime felt heavy on her, and she just wished she could be a little less impulsive, a little less stupid, a little less of an idiot.
It was past midnight when she arrived at Rockford. Despite being June, the city seemed deserted - there weren’t many people in the streets and only a few bars were open. She pulled over near one named “Sappho”. Curiosity awakened on her, as a hungry animal, and she felt she was pulled like a magnet to that place. It had a mysterious aura, something that stood out. It could be the pinkish neon sign that welcomed the entrance, or the stairs that went down into a basement. It could be the scent of expensive alcohol, or the spicy perfume of cinnamon and ginger that floated from the inside.
It could have been the curtains at the end of the stairs, or the maroon and purple lights that made the place shine. Carson felt her heartbeat in her ears, pounding so fast she could faint any second. The anticipation grew in her as an ivy, tangling her and making her prisoner of the bewitchment of the bar.
When she drew the curtains, Carson saw her. And the whole world stopped there, before the sight of a tall, red-haired woman, who was gracefully cleaning some glasses.
Something clicked in Carson’s head. And suddenly, everything made sense.