Shane and Carmen: The Novelization Ch. 29

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Why could she have been thinking? This was crazy. She had asked Carmen to marry her because she was grieving over Dana, any fool could see that. She was in pain and needed comforting and she had said the first damn thing that had popped into her head. And you could tell just from Carmen's hesitation that it was a bad idea. Poor Carmen. She had put Carmen into such a bad spot. That was so unfair. And it had taken her a week to say yes, a week to find some way not to hurt Shane's feelings, she was sure that's what was in Carmen's head. Carmen couldn't hurt her, she realized. She'd given poor, lovely, adorable, warm, wonderful Carmen no way out. It wasn't Carmen's fault she'd said yes. She'd had no choice, Shane could see that now. Shane had boxed her into a corner, put her in an untenable position. And the truth was, Carmen was just too good a person to say no. To hurt her feelings. To pile one hurt right on top of another. Of all the horrible times to ask someone to marry you, twenty minutes after the funeral of one of your best friends.

These were the thoughts Shane poisoned herself with as she walked back to the hotel. She could feel the fear mounting. She couldn't face Carmen. My god, how could she tell her? She couldn't. Carmen would be much better off without her, that much was obvious. She remembered that saying she'd seen on posters and bumper stickers in head shops: If you love something, let it go. Something like that. A bird, that was it. Let the bird go, let it fly away, and if it was yours it would come back. Shane hadn't really understood it at the time. Now maybe she did. And they had these bird tattoos, and this bird metaphor, birds mating for life. If she loved Carmen -- and she did, she really did -- the best thing for her would be to set her free. Don't trap her into going through with this hopeless charade. Carmen marrying Shane would be almost as bad as Carmen marrying Gabe McCutcheon. It was only a matter of time before Shane broke Carmen's heart, destroyed their marriage, inflicted the cruelest kind of pain on her, the pain of betrayal. Of all the many wonderful things Carmen espoused, loyalty and faithfulness were at the pinnacle. Shane could never deliver on all those things Carmen wanted and deserved.

The noise was roaring in her ears. She tasted copper in her mouth. A wave of nausea came over her and she stepped off the snowy sidewalk and found herself bent over between two parked cars, vomiting into the slush-filled gutter.

Three skiers, two men and a woman, stopped and asked her if she was all right. Shane waved them away politely. "I just ... you know. The flu or something. Thanks."

But she wasn't all right. She was far from all right. She was literally sick with fear. Fear of facing Carmen. Fear of facing Helena and all the friends. Fear of getting married. Fear of making the biggest and most serious mistake of her life since the day ten years ago when she got in the car with that asshole who'd raped her. She vomited again in the gutter, just a small amount, almost a dry heave, because there was nothing left in her stomach. She had a terrible headache. Fuck. Her legs were weak.

When she'd recovered a little she walked to the corner where there was a cab stand. She knew she didn't have the legs to walk back to the hotel. She didn't know what she was going to do when she got there, but she'd have to think of something pretty damn quick. She wished she could talk to somebody about what she should do, but Carmen was the one person who she respected most, and Carmen was the very last person she could talk to. Fuck.

When the cab got to the Fairmount Shane got out, paid the driver, and instead of walking through the lobby she went around to the garage entrance and went up to her room without being seen.

It was Carmen she had to save. If she loved Carmen, the best thing she could do for her was to stop this thing somehow. It would hurt, of course, but it would be for the best. What was that musical she and Harvey used to talk about? Man of La Mancha, that was it. Don Quixote, making a noble sacrifice to save the woman he loved, even though it meant his own destruction. Something like that. So that's what she would do, she would save Carmen from this horrible mistake, even though she knew it would mean a thousand nights of pain and guilt for herself. She'd got Carmen into this mess, and now she'd have to find a way to get her out. Out of a marriage with a worthless, unfaithful, daughter of a thief, a grifter. And she was no better than he was -- bad boys who shared the McCutcheon genes. Monogamy wasn't in their DNA. And her own father, the motherfucker, had recognized it. He'd even told her. ""I'm not proud of this. It's just who I am. I know you know what I'm talking about."

It's just who I am.

It's just who I am.

Yes, she knew. He was a no-good, cheating worthless son-of-a-bitch, and so was she.

Love. It was a one-way ticket to hurt. She'd always said so. She'd been right all along -- love was for somebody else. Somebody who knew what it meant. But love could kill you, if you were Shane McCutcheon. I'm not proud of this. It's just who I am.

She stripped off her fancy tux pants and shirt and put on her jeans and an old sweatshirt. She threw all her stuff into her duffle bag. It wasn't until she went into the bathroom to pack up her toiletries that she glanced in the mirror -- and realized she'd been crying.

She put on her parka. She put one hand in a pocket and realized that's where she'd left her cell phone. She looked at it and saw seven phone calls from Alice over the past half hour. There were four voicemails from her, and five text messages. Where are you. Where are you? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?? Fuck.

She took the elevator to the garage, walked around the front to the cab stand, and took a cab to the bus station. It was ten minutes to seven. She took her phone out, and put in a phone number.

The noble sacrifice. It would hurt now ... but it would hurt Carmen a hell of a lot worse later if she went through with this.

Bad boys. You couldn't fix them. You delude yourself into thinking you could, this time it would be different. No, it wouldn't.

It's just who I am.

"Alice? Yeah, it's me."

Shane sat in the last row of the bus and cried all the way to Vancouver.

***

The tent was beautiful. It was large enough that they could set up five rows of chairs, four seats to a row, on each side of the wide center aisle. Wide enough, anyway, for a bride in a large, flowing wedding dress to walk down on the arm of whoever was going to give her away. And it was beautifully decorated, with some simple strands of while garlands. There were tall, stainless steel, propane space heaters at the corners, shaped like giant mushrooms, which made the room warm enough to take the chill off. Even so, all the guests wore winter coats, gloves, scarves and some wore hats. At the end of the aisle in front of the aisle there was a podium facing the audience.

"Alice is giving Shane away," Helena leaned over to tell her mother. Peggy Peabody nodded and smiled. We'll see, she thought. We'll see.

Mercedes walked Carmen a few steps from the tent entrance to the beginning of the aisle. She was so proud, and her daughter -- oh, so beautiful! Then Alice came up behind them and put her hand on Carmen's elbow, stopping her and turning her around. Carmen looked at Alice, and knew in that moment just from the look on Alice's face that her whole world had just collapsed.

Then from the front of the room a woman's voice spoke.

"Everyone, I'm Marilyn Shepherd, I'm the wedding official. I've just been in touch with Shane McCutcheon."

Alice spoke quietly into Carmen's ear. "She said that she doesn't expect you to forgive her. She, um ... she said to tell you she's not proud of this, it's just who she is."

The wedding official spoke again from the front of the room, by the podium where she had expected to conduct this wedding. "She wanted me to extend her deepest apologies to all of her friends. She loves, and cherishes you more than you could possibly know. She apologizes to the Morales family, and hopes ... that you might forgive her someday ... and maybe even understand."

Carmen looked at Alice, who wouldn't look her in the eye.

"But ...?"

"I'm sorry," Marilyn Shepherd told the audience.

Carmen sniffled. She started to cry. Her mother came to her, put an arm around her.

"I'm okay!" insisted Carmen, who wasn't, not at all. Jenny came hurrying down the aisle toward her, and pulled Carmen into a hug, Carmen crying now into Jenny's shoulder.

Mercedes didn't know what to do, where to go, what to say. Patricia and Anna tugged at her, hugged her, tried to comfort her.

***

Carmen and Mercedes sat next to each other in the tent after everyone else had gone.

"Don't you want to look for her?" Mercedes asked.

Carmen looked at her hands in her lap, sniffled.

"Don't you want to know what happened?"

"I already know what happened," Carmen said. "I just want to go home, be with my family," she said.

Mercedes looked at her. "Si," she said softly. "Si."

"I'd like to be alone for a few minutes. I'll come up soon. I promise."

"I love you," Mercedes said, squeezing Carmen's shoulders and kissing her forehead.

***

Carmen sat in the aisle seat in the third row from the back, in her wedding dress. She had cried herself out. She was huddled in one of white lap robes the hotel had put out on each chair. The tent was otherwise empty, and no one came by until about 11 p.m., when some of the staff arrived to turn off the space heaters and put the chairs away, turn off the lights, and close up the tent for the night.

She blamed herself. It's what women do.

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