Rhinestone Cowboy: Hello everyone. Glad to be writing LTIH again. Been stuck for a couple weeks tying up the ends of a novel, so I sat down to free write and Caroline appeared. Then I emailed Nola and asked if she wanted to jump in and co-pilot.
Why publish again after leaving the site? It's good for my writing. The Imagined experience was educational, motivational, and inspirational. On the site you cannot dwell on revision, only move forward. You must keep up a certain pace to keep the story engaging, and you have a strong incentive to finish. All in all a good break from publishing-focused outcomes. Same premise as the National Novel Writing Month project.
I will not republish Caroline and Eleanor. As my first real writing venture and Eleanor my first wholly original, fully developed character, she, they, and the work itself are raw, vulnerable bits of my soul. I'd rather not put that back out there on the internets.
If you are made uncomfortable by the warning flag that I published on the site, which I leave up as a cautionary tale for new readers that I hope the site continues to attract, that's your business and you don't have to read anything I ever write. If you're so totally over everything and all of it completely, same thing. If you just aren't into Caroline stories without Kate, I'm sorry that I can't write for you but I wish you many happy reading adventures.
Excited to be collaborating with Dis Moi / Nolathree on this venture. Peace and popsicles, y'all.
Nolathree: Thrilled to be on this little writing venture with RSC, particularly since I just concluded writing Caroline's Holiday in NYC as Dis-Moi, and was looking for a new writing project. I suspect some of you figured out early on in Holiday who I really was but were kind enough to let it hit the floor and suffered with me as I tried to strengthen my creative writing muscles. Hope y'all enjoy this little tale.
Swish swish swish.
Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Swish swish swish.
Thin blue strips whipping and foaming, back and forth across the storm grey hood of the Jeep.
Whirrrr. Thump. Clunk.
The tunnel around Caroline and the Jeep retreated, whirred and clunked, and moved back over her again. The final, gentle rain wash tickled the entire car with sound and tiny splashes on the windshield. The promise of a SPOT FREE RINSE flashed along the lit bar overhead.
Black blowers roared to life on all sides forcing the last droplets of water away with a blunt wall of air that raced up the windshield and across the sunroof. Caroline often enjoyed the rainbow of color surrounding her during the hot wax cycle and kept the cover on the sun roof pulled back - when she took the time to do meaningless things like enjoy rainbows.
She had not done so today. The rainbow came and went, dissolved and drained off in a million directions without a second glance or a second thought from Caroline. The bright show was wasted on the middle-aged, always very practical but occasionally reflective blonde inside the car wash.
She ripped back on the gearshift in the center console and the Jeep jumped forward over the chocks on the track holding it in place. She drove forward out of the low cinderblock cave into the slanting September sun. She blinked at the abrupt change in the light until she snatched her sunglasses off the dash and covered up eyes that were the same committed pale blue as the Brighton late summer sky.
Leaning forward to get a better view of the traffic whizzing by she looked left and right before trying to turn on to London Road. Zooming waves of cars stretched out in either direction, morning commute in full effect. She inched the Jeep forward and slammed on the brakes. Once, and twice again.
Hopeless. She'd try a different exit out of the lot. She tore back on the gearshift again. The transmission took its time to argue with itself and then slammed into reverse.
Crunch.
Caroline lunged forward into her locked safety belt and crashed back into the seat, head settled on the rest. She didn't move, but closed her eyes and evicted a substantial amount of air from her lungs. She'd backed into someone.
Bloody fucking hell.
Yesterday she would have shouted the words and abused the steering wheel roundly as she did so. Today they crossed her mind but not her lips.
Tap tap tap.
Caroline did not open her eyes.
Tap tap tap.
"Are you – alright – in there? Hullo?"
She did not turn to look at the man tapping with his key on her window.
"Miss. It's just that you've hit my car. I think we should – umm – we need to talk, miss."
Click. Whirrrrrrr.
With the window now open – it would leave spots when she rolled it back up because it hadn't had time to dry properly – Caroline could hear the busy traffic and smell the salty air. The salty air that had smothered itself all over her the Jeep and her windshield all weekend, and the reason she was at the car wash in the first place.
She leaned, head in hand, on the door. "Don't call me miss. When I was younger I hated it, and now I really do. Call me ma'am. I don't think it makes me sound old. It makes me sound like a mature woman of the world. Which I am."
She glanced up at a weasel-faced man who also had stringy weasel-colored hair combed over his balding head. He frowned at her.
Weasel-man was a business man, if his suit and tie were any indication. She looked into the rearview mirror. The patch of rust on the hood of his blue Ford Fiesta suggested he wasn't a particularly successful business man.
"Ma – ma'am? We should talk. I – I need your insurance information."
"Yes. I suppose you do."
She unwrapped the cobalt scarf that she wore frequently because it matched her eyes. She tossed it into the back seat, and leaned over to the glove compartment. She tugged at the latch. Locked.
Another massive rush of air out of her lungs. She closed her eyes again. Traffic bellowed by. A massive horn blast from what had to be a massive vehicle and a return toot from a car that could not be much larger than the Fiesta behind her.
"Hullo. Again. Are you – are you – sure - you're alright?"
Caroline closed her eyes tighter. Her eyebrows lowered and her lips drew into a line on her face and then disappeared.
"I am fine. Give me a minute, please."
"Well if you're not fine I want you to say something. I don't want you claiming some injury later. Not that I'd be at fault –"
"No. No you are not at fault. No way, no how, at fault, in this situation. You're completely in the clear, aren't you?"
Caroline dumped her cool exhaustion and traded it in for hot aggression. Weasel-man recoiled as her volume rose, her blond hair flew, and her hands flailed inside the car. When he opened his mouth, surprised, he revealed butter-yellow weasel teeth to match his hair. His disdain at her emotion reminded her of ex-husband John and the mock intimidation he wore when she raised her voice. Early in their relationship it had been real intimidation.
The reaction of the man in front of her and the disgust that bloomed on her face led her to wonder how she'd even been attracted to a man who was afraid her words.
She held up an index finger and Weasel-man stood in place as instructed. He did not speak as she unlocked her glove box and produced the appropriate paper work.
Other drivers leaving the car wash were conspicuous in their efforts not to notice them. But Caroline noticed them as she finally got out of the car to inspect the damage and threw her door closed.
The back of her Jeep was a crumpled mess. The front of the Ford hugged it tight as though it wanted the larger car to swallow it whole. Desperate for the Jeep to transport it into an alternate dimension where its new owner would never allow rust patches to go untended.
"Well I'm going, ummm, to take some pictures. Also I was wondering if I can have your phone number just in case?"
"No, I don't think so. Just in case what? You have my insurance, it's all you'll need."
"I – but – OK."
Caroline did not know his name. To her he was Weasel-man, and he brushed a hand over his balding head and sniffed. But she ought to, because she ought to have his paperwork as well.
"I'm sorry I don't know your name yet. I'm Caroline."
The phone in the pocket of her tan herringbone jacket buzzed.
Weasel-man looked from her pocket back up to her eyes and waited.
"It's fine." Caroline crinkled her nose and her eyes and tried to look encouraging.
"I'm Dave."
"Yes, Dave, I should see your papers as well, shouldn't I?"
Weasel-man Dave made a small bow. His eyes darted to his car and back again. "I suppose – that – yes you should."
"Is there a problem with that?" Caroline stopped trying to look encouraging.
"N – no. No problem. At all."
"Goooooood."
He did not move. Caroline crossed her arms over her stomach. She stood two inches taller than he did. While he was not young enough to be her son, he had the air of a boy accustomed to being told what to do.
"Oh. I'll – I'll get them now."
"Yes."
Dave slunk off, casting glances over his shoulder at her.
He got in on the passenger side and closed the door. His eyes were not on his task at hand but on Caroline as he searched for what he needed.
Then his neck snapped down and Dave, in his entirety, disappeared under the dash.
Caroline tilted her head to the side.
Dave appeared again, face flushed. Caroline was forgotten as his shoulders pitched to and fro before settling.
His attention returned to Caroline and he scurried back her.
"OK – here – here it is, here you go."
"Yes – thank you." Caroline pulled her mobile from her jacket to record Dave's information.
Missed call - Melanie Wysocki
She huffed and swiped to dismiss the notification. She laid Dave's papers out on the hood, careful to avoid the rust, and snapped a picture.
"OK then. Ma'am. We're – done – we're done?"
Caroline handed everything back and narrowed her eyes with a sharp, short nod at Weasel-man. "Yep."
She eyed his car again. "Can you drive that?"
"Perhaps. I don't know. I – I – can call someone."
"Might be best if you do."
"Yes – well – then."
"Well then." Caroline bent to examine her own car more closely. Crumpled mess yes, but a crumpled drivable one. At least to the nearest mechanic. All the way back to up Harrogate? Who knew.
Dave ran his hand over his head again as he walked back to his car. The Weasel-man's pace had picked up ever since Caroline asked about his paperwork. She waited for him to back up so she could inspect the damage further.
Click. Click click. Click click click click.
Apparently the Fiesta had met its maker at the hands of the Jeep.
Caroline's shoulders came up and she grimaced.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Long long short. Long long short at her waist.
Melanie again. Caroline had flown the coop and left her at their beach-front rented flat after a nasty row. She was allegedly fetching tea and pastries, which should never take an hour. Even after a dust up.
'Don't be a bloody bitch. She doesn't deserve that.'
She leaned against the spotless, wrecked Jeep and pulled out her mobile. Weasel-man could take care of his own issues.
"Hullo."
"Are you alright, Caroline?"
"Yep."
"Are you sure? Aside from our – spat – this morning? You've been gone a long time."
The sun was higher and Caroline squinted into it as she gazed up at the cloudless sky. She looked left, right, and finally rested her eyes on Weasel-man inside the Fiesta, who was also on the mobile.
"I've backed into someone."
"Oh no! You've gotten in an accident?"
"That's another way of saying I've backed into someone. Yep."
"Caroline. I'm so sorry. But you're alright? You haven't hurt yourself?" Melanie's words tumbled out in a rush, the pitch of her voice and her cadence increasing as the questions moved along.
Caroline crossed her legs and looked down at the well-worn beige-suede boots wrapped over her dark jeans. She fiddled at the collar of her white oxford button down.
"I'm fiiiiine, Melanie. I am." Laughter escaped from Caroline unbidden as Melanie's alarm and her undisguised concern, her inability to pass off any type of subterfuge, softened the edges of her anger.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because you make me laugh."
"That's good to hear. What's happened? And you're sure you're fine?"
"Well it's a good thing to say, too." Caroline placed a hand on top of her head and wandered to where Dave now stood trying to extricate the Fiesta. "It's nothing major. It's not a big deal. And I am perfectly fine."
Dave put his hands on the hood and shoved. No give.
"One moment, Mel."
She held a hand over the mobile.
"Dave – would you like me to pull forward?"
"Uh. Umm – yes. I – I think so."
"Alright." Another index finger from Caroline.
"I need to call you back, Mel."
"Do you need me to come around and fetch you? I mean I'd have to call a car service, but I could. It wouldn't be a problem, and I'm worried about you."
"No, sweetie. Don't worry. I can get this heap to a garage and get myself back to the flat from there."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
Her car roared to life and seemed, at this point, no worse for the wear.
Screeeeeeee.
The Ford and the Jeep wailed as Caroline shifted into drive and tore them asunder.
Caroline craned her head out the window and looked back for a final time at Weasel-man Dave. He shoo'd her off.
"Fine then. Away I go," she muttered sotto voce.
The traffic on London Road remained heavy, but this time Caroline found an opening and turned toward the beach. In the time between hanging up with Melanie and waving goodbye to Dave, she'd decided they'd never be making it back home to Harrogate today. And if she were going to be stuck for the morning in a greasy pit of a garage, she'd rather be stuck with Melanie suffering right alongside her.
She dialed Melanie and the light, high, lyrical sound of her voice filled the Jeep.
"All sorted?"
"I am. But I've decided we're going to suffer together this morning. Care to research nearby garages before I pick you up?"
"Yes! Absolutely! Research is my specialty, Lizzy."
"A fact you've proven over and over again, and not just by sussing my middle name embarrassingly early on into our relationship."
"Sorry. I suppose it's one of the drawbacks of dating a librarian."
"There are no drawbacks to dating a librarian, as far as I can tell."
"Oh good girl. You're sweet. But since I'll be so busy here, could you please stop and fetch tea and pastries on the way? I've really been wanting a pan au chocolat since you left. And you were awfully mean to me this morning. I think it made me hungrier." Melanie was always hungry, a perpetual state of desire at war with a workplace that did not easily allow for snacking on the job.
Caroline narrowed her eyes, which had become a deeper shade of blue as she rolled toward the water and toward Melanie. She pictured the earnest want in Melanie's giant hazel-green eyes as she asked and the delight that would appear in them when Caroline produced the pastry.
"I was mean to you, wasn't I? I'm sorry."
"Yes, but I know why. I know you're not excited about summer holiday ending."
"Fine. Tea and pastries and a better apology coming up. I'll see you in about twenty minutes."
"By then I'll know all the garages in Brighton, and you can have your pick."
"Yep."
"OK hurry back. See you soon. Love you Caroline. I'm glad you're OK."
"Love you too, Mel. And thanks. Bye bye."
Caroline clicked off and scanned the horizon as she rolled down the street. She put down the windows and let the sea air fill her nose. The gulls screamed, and as the white-tipped navy of the vast English Channel came into view she smiled at it.