Chapter Text
Carson inhales deeply trying to memorize Greta’s scent once again, before she’s inevitably kicked out for the night. The taller woman’s arms are wound tightly around Carson, their bare skin against each other under the thin, white sheet.
Carson wishes she never had to leave, but she knows how Greta feels, yet she can’t seem to stop the words that leave her, “Don’t you wish I never had to leave you? That I could stay here with you all the time?”
Greta sighs, lazily running her hand up and down Carson’s forearm, “Of course I do, but you know the rules, Car.”
It’s Carson’s turn to let out a huff of disappointment, “I know. I just wish things were different. That we could be normal. That we could get married, live together - you could have that kid you’ve dreamed of. I would get a job that pays better than working the counter at the department store so you could stay home with the baby. Or you could work and I could stay home. We’d have a little house with a white picket fence. I’d never need to worry about if we were safe or not.”
Greta is silent, but she stops trailing her fingers up and down Carson’s arm, instead reaching down to intertwine their fingers. She gives Carson’s hand a quick squeeze.
“There is nothing in the world that I want more, chickadee.” Greta’s voice sounds strained as she says it.
Caron turns her head to look at her lover, and she’s surprised to see tears softly streaming down Greta’s face. Carson quickly turns in her arms so she can pull the red head even tighter against her.
“I didn’t want to make you cry, baby. I’m sorry.” Carson feels bad for even bringing the topic up.
Greta shakes her head. “It’s okay. I just wish the world was different.”
“I do, too.”
The two lie in silence for what feels like forever, arms and legs still intertwined, quietly mourning the loss of a life they’ve never even known. The only sounds come from the busy New York City street below the window of Greta’s apartment and occasionally the hum of the radiator. They feel safe now but Carson knows that the second they leave that front door they need to put on a face. They need to play the part they’re supposed to but it gets so old — only getting to love behind closed doors. She just wishes she could stay over more often, but not with Greta’s new and very nosey elderly neighbor.
Carson curses herself for even thinking of the prying old woman because the second she does Greta is poking her in the side, “You should get going Carson. It’s getting late.”
“Greta,” Carson groans, knowing it’s not even worth protesting at this point.
“I’m serious. Cousins don’t sleep over at each’s others apartments every week, let alone every night. Ruth is already suspicious enough as it is,” Greta whips the covers off the two, the cold air stinging Carson’s perfectly warmed skin, goose bumps quickly covering every inch of her bare flesh.
Carson sits up, swinging her feet onto the floor, “Okay, okay, I’m going.”
Carson pads across the cold hardwood, picking up her hastily discarded clothing. She can feel Greta’s eyes on her, she smirks knowing the woman is enjoying the view. When she’s finally dressed she turns around to find Greta already sitting on the bed in a pink, silk robe.
“You know I love you right?” Greta asks almost guiltily.
Carson nods, quickly crossing to room to plant a kiss on Greta’s lips, “Of course. I understand why I have to go. Doesn’t mean I’m ever going to be happy about it though.”
“I know. I’m no happier about it than you,” Greta stands up pulling Carson against her.
“I love you too,” Carson says softly, reveling in the last moments she’ll have in Greta’s arms for the day.
Greta simply gives her a kiss on the side of her head, followed by a playful swat on the behind, “Okay, you, get going.”
Carson pulls away and the two walk out into the living room. One lone lamp is still on next to the sofa and long forgotten, dirty dinner plates and empty wine glasses sit on the dining table a few feet away. Moonlight pours in through the window, casting shadows across the room. Carson can see that it’s started to snow softly, a shiver racking through her at the thought of leaving into the cold night.
The two finally stop at the front door, turning to face each other.
“Okay, so my place tomorrow night?” Carson asks hopefully.
“Maybe we can just have a long phone call tomorrow night,” Greta suggests carefully, already aware of the response she’ll receive from her girlfriend.
“Greta,” Carsons practically whines. She’s sick of fighting against Greta’s fear but she’ll never admit it.
“I’m keeping us safe, Carson,” Greta snips, turning to grab Carson’s coat off the rack and shoving it into her hands.
“No one is going to care if you come to my apartment tomorrow night. No one will know. Ruth can fuck off,” Carson spits right back. She didn’t want to pick a fight, not after such a nice night, but she can’t seem help herself.
“Ruth, can very well ruin us,” Greta’s voice stings this time, an unsettling tinge of venom present.
Carson pulls her coat on, wrapping her large woolen scarf around her neck as well, “I know, Greta. The world is out to get us. I don’t want to fight.”
“Well it seems like you do,” the taller woman’s tone is a bit cooler, Carson can tell she’s trying to reign herself in.
“I work early. I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.”
Carsons’ hand is on the doorknob but Greta pulls it back.
“I don’t want you to leave like this, please Carson,” Greta looks at her apologetically know.
Carson sighs deeply, “You know I’m frustrated but that doesn’t change how much I love you.”
“I’m sorry we have to do this,” Greta takes Carson’s hands in hers.
Carson does her one better and pulls Greta into her tightly. The red head grips at her back through her thick coat. They stand that way for a few more moments until Carson pulls away and kisses Greta lightly on the lips.
“Sleep good,” Carson says sweetly, once again putting her hand on the doorknob.
Greta simply smiles back at her as the door swings open. Carson steps out into the hall, the door shutting behind her. All too ironically, Ruth’s door swings open moments later, her eyes instantly locking on Carson’s retreating form.
“Back again so soon?” Ruth calls out to the catcher, “and leaving so late?”
Carson tenses up at the shrill voice, she slowly turns on her heel to face the woman.
“We had some wine and the night just seemed to slip away,” Carson chuckles lightly, although her nerves make it hard to force the noise out.
“Uh huh,” Ruth nods suspiciously, “You too ought to find some men, you know that would help the loneliness.”
“Well we’re both so busy, makes it hard to find the time for romance,” Carson shrugs, “Not to mention most of the eligible bachelors are away at war.”
“Ah yes, you are right,” Ruth smiles but it leaves an unsettling feeling in the pit of Carson’s stomach.
“Well goodnight, Ruth,” Carson gives the elderly woman a small wave before turning around and practically stumbling down the steep wooden steps.
“Goodnight,” she hears Ruth call out before her door slams shut once more.
******
Greta’s heart races erratically as she hears Ruth’s door shut. She’s leaned up against her own front door and finds herself sliding down it, her knees no longer giving her the support she needs.
That was another close call Carson had out there. Greta almost wishes she had walked away and hadn’t even heard the interaction. She had though, and it just goes to prove that her fears are entirely valid. Maybe Carson will start to understand it the more Ruth hounds her.
Greta is also very aware that she can’t put any more restrictions on her and Carson’s relationship. They’re already being so careful. They’ve been doing this for three years now and it’s wearing on Greta just as much as it is on her girlfriend. She needs to come up with a better solution. A safer one, but one that will allow them more freedom.
Greta manages to stand back up and quickly crosses the room. She grabs the phone and is dialing Jo’s number before she can even think about what she’s doing or how late it is.
Regardless of the late hour, Jo answers in two rings.
“Jo!” Greta greets her friend a little too enthusiastically.
“Bird, is everything alright?”
“Not really,” Greta answers honestly, her tone significantly more solemn than her greeting.
Greta marvels at how Jo already saw through her so quickly but she shouldn’t be surprised, she feels like Jo knows her better than she knows herself most days.
There’s a heavy sigh on the other end, “Carlton again?”
Greta’s always wants to laugh at the ridiculous name they have to give Carson when speaking on the phone or in letter, but they can never be too careful.
“Yes and no. Carl is great but he’s getting frustrated with our current situation again.”
Jo is no stranger to the topic, Greta has talked with her friend at length about this before. She already knows what Jo will say but she doesn’t want to hear it.
“You know what my favorite color, is Bird?”
“Yes and it’s a nice color but I’ve never really had an affinity for lavender,” Greta says as casually as she can.
“Do you think Carl likes lavender?”
“He might.”
“Well as much as you don’t like it, I think that getting a little more lavender in your life might be the ticket to your happiness.”
This time it’s Greta’s turn to sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose, “I will have to talk to Carl about it. I hate that you’re probably right, you know that?”
Jo chuckles, “I know you do, but I’m only looking out for you…and Carl.”
“I know and I love you.”
“Love you too Bird, but I’ve got to go. Just keep thinking about it ok?”
“I will. I promise.”
*******
Carson pulls her coat around her tightly, the cold, early winter wind whipping against her harshly. Snowflakes stick to her hair and scarf, the ground is quickly becoming covered in white. Her legs feel like jello as she walks as quickly as she can back to her apartment building. The encounter with Ruth has Carson feeling extra shaken up tonight. How did she know to go out in the hall that very moment? Was she listening somehow to the conversation at Greta’s front door?
Carson shakes her head, willing the worries to leave but the moment keeps playing on a loop in her mind. What is wrong with that woman? What kind of queer witch hunt is she on?
She just wishes she hadn’t had to leave Greta’s. Right now, she just needs the comfort of her lover’s arms around her, her soft voice in her ear, assuring her that everything will be alright. Carson allows a tear or two to fall, blurring her vision slightly as she continues to trudge forward. Greta is right, they need to be careful. People like Ruth are all over. People who don’t understand that Carson and Greta’s love is just as pure and right as anyone else’s. People who think that a person like Carson is broken, sick, twisted and in need of mental help. The thought of being so misunderstood only makes the tears fall faster.
Carson knows she can’t change the world. She just wishes there was a simple solution for her and Greta. Something that could even give them a scrap of normalcy. It’s days like these she misses the simplicity of her life in Idaho. She doesn’t miss Charlie, but she misses how easy it was. Take care of the house, cook the meals, sing in the church choir on Sundays, her life was simple and easy. But screw easy. The second she met Greta she knew she was changed and there was no going back. She doesn’t want easy but, oh how she misses it some days.
In no time at all she’s home, climbing the front steps of her apartment building. Eager to get in out of the snow, she grabs the door handle, but just as she’s about to pull, it swings open at her. Carson stumbles backward at the force, the snow slick beneath her feet, but she catches herself before she can fall down the unforgiving stone stairs. As she slides she can feel her ankle twist harshly, a sharp pain sears through her leg and foot.
“I’m so sorry!” a soft pitched, male voice echoes into the dark night, a hand reaching out and grabbing Carson’s arm in an attempt to keep her from falling.
Carson takes a shaky breath once she finds her bearings again, her ankle still throbbing, “It’s alright, I’m sure you weren’t expecting anyone on the other side.”
Carson takes a moment to study the man in front of her. His face is slim, a mop of blonde hair on his head, his body is slim as well, tall, he’s a lanky fellow but he’s got a kind smile, Carson can tell he’s being genuine. She can’t place it, but she feels as though she’s seen him before.
“Let me walk you to your apartment, make sure you get there alright,” he offers with an apologetic smile.
Carson wants to say no, but she did twist her ankle and the thought of another flight of stairs is already paining her, “Okay, thank you, my right ankle did seem to take a beating.”
“I’m so sorry,” the man apologizes once more as they step through the door, Carson latched onto the man’s arm tightly for support.
“Really it’s fine, accidents happen,” Carson winces as they begin to climb the stairs to the second floor.
“You live upstairs?” The man asks.
Carson can’t help but laugh, “I would have stopped us much sooner if I didn’t live upstairs.”
The man smiles back at her shyly, “I’m Richard.”
“Carson,” she tries to give her nicest smile back to Richard, who clearly feels bad.
They slowly reach the top of the stairs and Carson stops short right by the door with a gold 4. As she pushes her front door open she suddenly remembers where she’s seen Richard before.
“You’re Tom’s friend, right?” Carson asks as Richard helps her down into a chair.
The man blushes but quickly collects himself, Carson can tell she’s struck a nerve, “Uh, why, yes I am.”
Her neighbor in apartment 5, a single man named Tom, has always been nice to Carson — and Greta now that she’s thinks about it. She’s never seen a woman at his place but she has seen Richard quite often. The pieces start to click into place but she still needs to tread lightly.
Her eyes drift over to her side table, next to the arm chair she’s currently sitting in. There’s a photo frame, a picture of her and Greta, they’re standing on the porch at the house in Rockford. They’re all smiles but no one could tell they were anything more than friends, unless you actually knew the truth.
“My friend Greta and I have met him many times before, he’s very kind,” Carson says as conversationally as she can, without raising suspicion.
She can see Richard’s eyes still on the framed picture, “Oh yes, he is a very kind man, a good friend. Your friend looks very nice as well. That’s her?”
Richard turns his gaze back to Carson, a knowing look spread across his face. Carson isn’t afraid to return the smile. She’s positive they’re on the same page now.
“Yea, that’s Greta. She is a wonderful friend,” Carson says softly, thinking about her beautiful girlfriend, who’s sitting at her apartment alone, in her silky pink robe.
“I would love to meet her sometime,” Richard replies, “Do you need anything before I head out?”
“I will be fine, thank you for helping me upstairs.”
“It’s the least I could do after I practically tossed you down the front steps of the building,” Richard rubs his hand on his neck, still obviously very sheepish about the whole ordeal.
“Don’t worry about it,” Carson waves a hand dismissively, “I will see you around.”
“Yea, see you around, Carson,” Richard says before turning on his heel to leave.
Her front door closes and Carson is alone once more. Her thoughts are no longer on Ruth and her probing questions but on the two men next door. Who knew she’d be living right next door to one of her own? Carson often feels like she’s isolated from that whole world, she doesn’t get much of a chance to be a part of it. So as silly as it sounds, she’s excited at the possibility.
She can’t wait to tell Greta.