Chapter 3 – Becoming Carol
The woman was sitting in her seat, waiting for the bus to leave the depot. She had walked the three miles to the depot, not wanting her car to tip her husband off to her destination. On the way, she had opened the envelope the kind nurse had given her where two hundred dollars awaited her. It wasn't much, but she would use it to get as far away as possible. Their little backwater Michigan town was an hour north of the Detroit suburbs. Close enough to have its own depot, but that's about it. Upon arrival, she discovered just how far the money could take her. One hundred and twelve dollars would get her a bus ticket to Atlanta. Growing up in the north, she had never ventured further south than northern Ohio. This was sure to be an adventure if nothing else.
After the bus ticket was paid for, she had been forced to endure a two hour wait before departure. She had used the time wisely. A block from the depot was a Walgreens. She entered, and immediately went to the personal care section. She purchased a box of auburn hair dye which closely resembled her natural shade. Premature graying had robbed her of her treasured asset. No more though. Her overgrown hair would also be a thing of the past. She bought a pair of hair scissors. Thank goodness the cashier was a new hire, a teenager. He wouldn't recognize her enough to tell her husband if he came looking. She paid, loathe to spend the fifteen or so dollars for the two items. However, it was necessary.
Returning to the empty depot, she entered the private family style restroom. Bidding her long tresses goodbye, she styled herself a little pixie cut, leaving enough of her natural curls to frame her face and neck. She made sure to flush all evidence of her cut hair down the toilet. Confident nobody else would be around to need the facilities, she set to work ridding herself of her gray hair. While she waited, she laid out the hidden clothing she'd brought with her. She would change into that after her hair was done. It seemed to take forever, but by the time she was done, she found herself amazed that she looked her actual age of twenty-eight again. She was used to people assuming she was in her forties. She would use that assumption to her advantage now. No part of her resembled the woman who had lived in the shadow of her husband. She walked out of that restroom in her skinny jeans, graphic tee and boots, feeling alive again.
She had seventy-three dollars remaining to her name now. That would be enough to feed her for the trip south and take care of any personal needs she may have, but it would be cutting it close. She had no idea what she would do once she entered Atlanta. But she was nothing if not resourceful. She would figure it out. She wasn't afraid of hard work. She was smart too and knew if taught she could do almost anything. It wasn't bragging, even though her husband said it was. It was something of which she was proud. What she was not proud of was the fact she had overlooked her intelligence in order to serve that mess of humanity she had married.
She couldn't bother with worries right now though. If she did, she would get scared. Instead, she focused on the positives the potential of a new life could bring. A new state. A new start. A new home. A new job. A new identity. She wasn't stupid enough to think she would be able to continue being her if she didn't want him to find her. She thought of names to call herself. She wasn't a Linda. She wasn't a Susan. She told herself that she had to decide on a name before others on the bus started getting chummy with her.
When the bus finally rolled out of the depot, she was one of only two passengers. The stop in Detroit would fill the bus though. When that happened, she had been forced to share her little section with a grandfatherly type who passed the time by sleeping and snoring. When he began to rouse around the Ohio/Kentucky border, she knew she was going to be called upon to introduce herself.
She wracked her brain, thinking of a suitable name. Then it hit her. Her favorite author was Patricia Highsmith. Her novel, 'The Price of Salt' was later changed to the title, 'Carol' after one of the main characters. Carol sounded right to her, but not Highsmith. What went with Carol? She looked around at the many passengers for inspiration, since her own imagination was failing on a surname. When nothing struck her, she remembered the kind nurse who had helped her. She had introduced herself as Vicky Mason. Mason. That sounded right. She could be Carol Mason.
She rolled the name around on her tongue, finding herself pleased with the alliteration of it. It felt right. She had just come to that conclusion when her seat mate finally stopped snoring and sat up. He turned to her and smiled. He was a friendly sort, and she was comfortable enough with him that when he asked her name, she smiled back.
"I'm Carol Mason. Pleased to meet you."
"Doug McGee, miss. Happy to make your acquaintance."
Every stop that Greyhound made, Doug and Carol would eat a quick bite together and chat. Carol was honest enough to say that she was heading to Atlanta for a fresh start. Other than that, she kept details to herself. Doug himself didn't say much to inquire about details, so it worked out just fine. They chatted all the way to Atlanta, with Doug occasionally dropping off for brief bouts of snoring. Carol though stayed awake. She savored the freedom she had granted herself. The trip was just under eighteen hours. She would watch the scenery go by and send thanks to whoever was upstairs for the nurse who allowed her this chance at a life. She wasn't going to waste this chance. She was going to live, finally live again.