Chapter Text
It’s almost midnight, and Esti, Lupe, Vera, Jess and Myrna have reluctantly left to wend their sleepy way back through the snow to their hotel, with promises that they will all meet for a last catch together tomorrow morning. Jo and Shirley have fallen asleep after playing Snakes and Ladders on the sofa, both huddled under the same blanket.
Carson finally has Greta to herself again. Greta is bending down to rake out the ashes of the dying fire. The glow from the embers casts her face in light and shadow, accentuating its beautiful angles and the soft shine of her hair. Carson steps up behind her and puts her arms round her waist, unable to believe that she is hers. She doesn’t think she will ever get used to this feeling, this excited, warm swell in her chest. She has never felt anything like it before.
Greta straightens up and leans back into Carson, placing her hands over hers with a contented hum. Carson plants an affectionate kiss on the back of Greta’s neck where it meets her shoulder. Greta shivers.
“How you doing there, buttercup?” Greta asks quietly.
“I’m over the moon. How are you?”
“Same,” Greta sighs, and lifts one of Carson’s hands up to her lips to kiss it.
“Look at that snow coming down, it’s so beautiful,” says Carson, gazing out the window at the snowflakes falling in the darkness.
Greta turns to look, then steps out of Carson’s arms, pulling her by the hand to the window.
“Oh, it’s magical out there, let’s go out onto the fire escape,” she enthuses.
Carson will do anything she asks. They bundle themselves into their coats, scarves and gloves, and then step out through the window. The cloud cover has brought the temperature up and killed the wind, so the cold isn’t as biting as it has been. The snow is already three inches thick and falling fast. The street below is blanketed in a fresh, white carpet, with only one or two foot tracks through it. Through the swirl of flakes falling all around them, the streetlights are glowing a warm amber. The world is almost completely silent.
Greta brushes the snow off the low upturned crate she keeps out here for smoking, and sits down, opening her legs for Carson to sit in between them on the ground below. Once Carson is in position, Greta leans forward and wraps her arms around her tightly. They sit in contented silence, listening to one another’s breathing. Carson feels as though her whole world has reduced down to just this perfect spot.
After a long time, Greta speaks. “I need to cut your hair again,” she observes, nuzzling her nose into the locks above Carson’s ear.
“Well in that case, maybe I’d better stay a few more days,” suggests Carson. Greta chuckles quietly in her ear.
“I was hoping you would,” she says. She is silent for a moment, and then keeps going in her soft, gentle voice. “But you know, the thing about hair is, it always grows back.”
“Oh right. So you’re saying I’m gonna need to get it cut again and again?”
“Yeah. Over and over.”
“That’s a lot of haircuts.”
Carson feels Greta tense slightly.
“You’re right. Let’s take it one haircut at a time,” she says quickly.
“Well, I meant you’re gonna be giving me a lot of haircuts,” Carson awkwardly tries to reassure her, smoothing her gloved hands over Greta’s knees.
“You can’t promise that right now,” Greta says, and there’s a hint of fear in her voice. Carson frowns. How did the mood change like that in just a fraction of a second?
“No, I...I can’t,” agrees Carson. “We can take it haircut by haircut if you want. But it’s...I really want this,” is all she can say.
Greta squeezes her like she wants to believe her. “But what about having adventures and being free and finding your own voice? I don’t want to stop you from doing any of those things. You should do them.” She says reluctantly.
Carson sits up a little straighter. “I’ve been thinking about this,” she says, and she has. “I’ve been different since the summer – better. More...me. But even that was nothing compared with how I feel now I’m back with you. You’re the one that helps me find my voice.”
Greta squeezes her again. “As happy as I am to hear you say that, I don’t think it’s that healthy to rely on someone else for your self-confidence,” she observes.
“That’s not what I meant,” Carson protests, thinking carefully about how to express herself. “It’s...it’s like baseball. I’m a great player – I can hit, I can catch, I can run. I can even coach, now. But none of that means anything if I’m out on the field by myself. If I’m gonna develop as a player, I need a team to play with. You’re my team. You and all the others...you demand the best of me. I don’t think there’s much point in me going off alone, who would I be doing it for? I need people around me. Does that make sense?”
“Well you rambled a bit, but I think I got it,” Greta laughs, stroking her hand up and down Carson’s arm.
“So you won’t make me leave?” Carson asks hopefully.
Greta laughs. “You can stay...for a week or two. Then I think you’re gonna have to find your own place. I’m all for being your teammate, but I don’t know how we would explain this arrangement to my neighbors.”
“Oh, right,” says Carson, smiling. “Yeah. I’ll find my own place. With disinterested neighbors. Then you can stay over at mine.”
“Sounds fun,” says Greta. “What do you think you’ll do if you stay here?”
“I don’t know,” muses Carson, “that’s the adventure bit. I’m looking forward to finding out. And having you around to tell me to go after what I want.”
“At your service, ma’am,” says Greta and Carson’s body prickles with heat when Greta calls her ma’am. Behind her, Greta fidgets a little, suddenly becoming less peaceful.
“You know, you help me too,” she says at last, “you make me brave. You give me a reason, someone to be brave for. Like you said, you’re my team.”
Carson feels like a million dollars. If helping Greta feels this good, she’ll make it her life’s work.
“And you also make me feel safe. And cared for.” Greta continues quietly. Carson thinks she will burst with happiness. “And the things you did to me in the store earlier...wow!” Greta continues and Carson laughs and feels heat flush through her. “I like when you take charge,” Greta concludes.
“I liked it too,” Carson says, and she can’t wait to get Greta into bed and do it again. She reflects on how differently she feels now compared with after being with Carla. “Everything feels so much more exciting with you.”
“More exciting than with Charlie?” asks Greta. Carson tenses. Did she actually say that thought out loud?
“Errr...I had a sort of...experience with another woman...back in Idaho,” she admits.
“Carson Shaw!” Greta reacts with a surprised laugh and Carson cringes.
“Well? Who was the broad?” Greta demands.
“It was...my niece and nephew’s drama teacher.”
“Damn Carson! You really have changed. Good for you!” She says and seems to mean it.
“You don’t mind?”
“Of course I mind. Was she better than me?” asks Greta, tapping Carson on the top of the head with mock anger.
“No,” Carson responds definitively, “nothing compared with you.”
“I should hope not.” Greta wraps her arms round Carson again and squeezes her possessively.
“Um, what about you?” asks Carson, trying to keep her tone light. She wonders just how many women Greta has slept with since the summer.
“Me? Oh, you know me – I’m practically a nun.”
“Greta,” chides Carson, “do I need to go in your bedroom and count the notches?”
“This may surprise you, but I was only with one other person too,” Greta says seriously.
“Oh.”
“It was...quite the learning experience,” says Greta.
“What do you mean?” asks Carson, trying to keep her voice steady.
“It was someone else who likes to take charge,” Greta explains, “only, I didn’t like it so much with her.”
“Wait, did she hurt you?” asks Carson, feeling anger rise up inside her just at the thought.
“No. She didn’t do anything I didn’t want. It was just...weird. Not like when you do it. With you it feels...wow.”
“Good,” says Carson, and she lets out her excess jealousy by pinching Greta’s calf. Greta gasps and involuntarily tightens her thighs around Carson.
“So you’re saying...we both tried being with other people, and we prefer each other,” Carson summarises.
“I prefer you to anyone,” Greta confirms, and she nuzzles her nose into Carson’s ear again.
“Me too.”
“Well then I don’t think there’s much more to say.”
“You could say you love me.”
“I do love you, my peach blossom.”
“I love you too.”
“Well then that’s that.”
“Yeah.”
Another long, peaceful silence. Carson feels even more buoyant and dreamy than she did before. The snow continues to come down in swirls around them. A drunk guy wanders by down below, singing a surprisingly tuneful version of Silent Night. Greta shivers.
Carson rouses herself. “Shall we go inside? My ass is frozen.”
“Ooh. I can help you with that,” says Greta playfully.
“Oh yeah?” Carson stands up and turns to face her love, catching hold of her by the scarf and hauling her to her feet. “I feel like there’s a lot you can help me with.”
Greta smiles radiantly and stands close to Carson, letting their noses touch.
“The feeling’s mutual.”