Loaded

Hello to anyone reading!

I stumbled upon the USA Today interview by Andrea Mandell with Rooney and Cate from November 2015. In the interview, Cate says: "Blanchett says she wonders what would have happened if Carol had never met Therese and remained living in anguish. "I thought she probably would have one day had too many brandies and shot herself,"

So, I decided to write about this idea. (Warning: character death)

July 10th, 1952

Jerry Rix turned his head, leaning across to whisper something to Harge.

Exactly like a serpent whispering secrets to his victims. How typical. Then he turned his attention back to Carol's lawyer, Fred Haymes.

"With all due respect, your client is clearly unfit to take care of this child. With such, perversions, for lack of better words, she is unstable. She cannot possibly provide any emotional support that a normal mother should. Therefore, sole custody, and security should be granted to the child's father, Mr. Aird. It's important for the child's normal development. I hope you and your client can see this as well." he said with a smirk.

Yesterday, Fred had told her to "remain focused" on getting Rindy back into her life. Carol knew that was just hopeful thinking. Reality is different, and it is so damned awful.

"Sure, Fred." Carol scoffed back while reviewing the paperwork.

Carol sat there staring at a permanent dent in the boardroom's brown maple table. Abby and I once sold a table like this to a very wealthy man from the Hamptons. Carol sighed, zoning back in to their "meeting". I am not going to win this case, I just know it. I would much rather give Rindy her freedom. It must be terrible being thrown around from one parent to the other. I know that it feels awful being the one doing the throwing around.

Carol was lost in thought. Meanwhile, Fred was screaming across the table trying to defend her. What is he even defending? What's the point in fighting this anymore?

She would often get lost in the "grey cloud" that plagued her mind. These last few months the cloud had followed her from the moment she woke up, to the moment she closed her eyes and dreamt of Rindy, dreamt of any future for herself with another person. When Carol would explain these dreams with Abby, she would jokingly state that if she lost her daughter she would "have to off herself". Abby would laugh it off while finishing her dry martini in one swift gulp. Little does Abby know the truth behind my "jokes".

5 months later - December 20th, 1952

After the final round table meeting, a decision was finalized. Harge would have sole custody of Rindy and Carol could no long have any communication with her daughter, including letters and phone calls. Although, there was a silver lining to this decision. If she so chooses, Carol could visit a psychologist every week for four months, only then would the decision be reviewed and Harge would have the last say in whether or not she had "progressed" enough to see Rindy one month out of the year. Even this, was uncertain and generally almost impossible.

What a mess this is, and I'm the only one here that is going to clean it up. Silver lining? More like tin lining. But as a mother I know this is the best decision for her. I know inside myself, that that is the only way.

With grief hanging low in her heart, Carol stood up from the hard leather seat she had been sitting on for three whole hours, and pulled out the chequebook from her purse. She flicked the cheque towards Fred.

Carol did not feel as though she was giving up. In fact, she did not think it was considered giving up when her hands were so tightly bound together that she could never escape. Carol slammed the door behind her without saying any last words.

Carol got into her car and peeled out of the building's designated parking lot. She aimlessly sped through the streets of New York, disregarding any speed limit or road signs. It was only until she reached the front of Frankenberg's department store building that she came to her proper senses. She had planned to get Rindy's Christmas gift, and a suitcase for herself today after the meeting adjourned. She had been so caught up with the divorce that she had forgotten Christmas was in 5 days. Carol stared at the intricately decorated glass doors of Frankenberg's, then reseted her forehead on the steering wheel.

I won't even get the chance to give her a gift this year…any year.

She stayed parked in front of the department store for 10 minutes, ultimately deciding there would be no use in going up to the seventh floor to the toy department and buying a present, if she couldn't even send it to her daughter. Carol started the car's engine and headed down the road towards the Lincoln Tunnel to New Jersey.

"Merry fucking Christmas."

For the next three days Carol stayed in her bed, sleeping away the days; sleeping away the feeling of having a piece of herself ripped away from her. She grieved the idea of never seeing her daughter grow into the beautiful young woman she was destined to becoming.

Christmas Eve, 1952

On the fourth morning, Abby arrived at her door, pushing past Florence in the doorway. Carol groaned as she heard her stomping up the stairs towards the bedroom.

Pulling back the thick curtains, she said, "You need to get out of this room, it's utterly toxic in here." Abby used a tone of voice that she knew had made Carol smile before. But this time Carol had not responded, besides a deflated sigh. Abby raised an eyebrow.

"How about we go out to town today, we'll get all dolled up, and even drive with the top up this time!"

Carol did not respond again, turning over to face the wall opposite of the window, opposite of the white morning light that was burning her skin. The light reminded her that time still moved without her moving along with it.

Finally, Carol spoke, "Abby, please leave. Tell Florence to leave with you,"

Abby's eyes were wide with shock. In all the years of knowing her, Carol has never sounded cynical towards her.

"Carol, I-"

"-I want you to tell Florence that the cheque in the second floor vanity is her paycheque for the next while. Abby, would you?" Carol's voice wavered. After a beat between the tension in the room, Abby replied.

"Alright, If that is what you wish. Just know that my shoulder is always here to be leaned on. You don't ever have to pretend you are made of steel...not with me."

Thank you for your friendship when I was sinking through the venom.

After waking up to the sunset outside her window, Carol got out of bed and opened her closet. She grabbed a robe and a brown leather case on the top shelf, bringing it closer towards her chest. Downstairs, Carol placed the case in the middle of the kitchen table. Moving to the kitchen hamper, Carol reached up on her toes to the back and grabbed the most expensive bottle of rye she owned. It was an early Christmas present from one of Harge's colleagues. The kind of bottle that was only opened for special occasions, for the happier occasions in life. Carol thought that now would be the best time than ever to open it.

Reaching past the case to the cigarette box on the end table. The box contained no cigarettes, but had a photograph of Harge on the far left, Rindy standing between them, and Carol on the far right holding her daughter's hand. The photograph was taken last Christmas Eve, when the topic of divorce was not yet introduced in their household. Carol tilted her head back, taking another gulp from the bottle of rye. Feeling the caramel coloured liquid burn it's path down her throat, making her head swim with violent thoughts. Looking back to the photograph she noticed that they were all smiling, facing towards the camera that was then placed in the middle of the living room. They looked like the perfect example of a family. The perfect wife. The perfect husband. The perfect house. Not a speckle of imperfection. Being thoroughly drunk, Carol ripped the photograph in half.

Carol reached for the leather case now. She unzipped the case, and revealed to herself the gun Harge had bought after they had a burglar at the house months before Rindy was born. She gripped the pistol by it's white handle. Somehow, it felt lighter now even though it was loaded. It really is getting to be a disease, not being able to love… or be loved.

She closed her eyes, the tears still continuing to roll down her cheeks. Carol held her breath and raised the gun to her right temple.

Meanwhile, at Frankenberg's Department Store

Therese was pacing around in the staff bathroom. It the only room on the seventh floor that gave her some peace and quiet. She had been anxious the whole day, for reasons she couldn't place. She sought refuge here to get away from screaming children, and worse, screaming sales managers. Suddenly, Therese felt an excruciatingly painful headache come on, and noticed that her nose had started to bleed, staining her cotton light blue work shirt.