Carrie Come To Me Smiling

By K. Adrian Zonneville

Kim has passed. Carrie is lost, alone and crushed under the weight of a thousand waves. Her life has, once again, been torn from her. Her heart broken, crushed and there is no one catching her freefall.
Is that all that life holds for her? Pain, heartbreak, betrayal? Maybe she would have been better off if Dennis had never found her on the roadside and she had been allowed to throw herself into the ocean. Sometimes life is too much.
It is then Kim's people showed up, out of nowhere, out of the ether, not quite all of them but enough so you would never know the difference. None could say, how exactly, they knew Kim had passed, or why they had come to this house in Newport, they just seemed to know. And none of them were bothered or curious about the happenstance, they accepted it was supposed to be this way.
They came. They cooked. They drank. And they reminisced. And then they were gone. All except Dennis and Henry, the doctor from New Orleans. They will stay a little longer but even they have lives they must return to. And she will be left with memories, emptiness, loneliness, sorrow and no direction, no plan no future.
Kim had found her salvation in her journey, maybe Carrie can do the same. She will complete what Kim started. It will be a spiritual quest to bring her closer to who and what Kim had been. The journey will allow Carrie to experience some of what Kim did in her last few months of life. She will discover her true path by following Kim's.
But one person's journey is another person's dead end, as Carrie soon finds out. If she is too find any peace, any contentment, any chance at life and love, she must find her own path. Not follow a path not meant for her.
She comes to that realization quickly, only to flounder in insecurities, her past, her guilt and her loneliness. If she is to dig out of the hole she has allowed herself to slip into she will have to build her own ladder. And she will have to find it alone, on the road.
It is a trip of discovery of a country, of who she is and who she will become, of her love for Kim, whether she can shake off her distrust of humanity and whether she can break out of her self-created prison.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K. Adrian Zonneville
• Release date: Nov 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463370902

K. Adrian Zonneville

This is Mr. Zonneville's fourth novel though his first in the fantasy realm. His other books include American Stories, Carrie Come To Me Smiling, Great Things, A Novel as well as his biography of his father, Z; One Family's Journey From Immigration Through Poverty To The Promise Of America, and his children's book, Lost Dog Found, the story of his Bearded Collie, Greta He is married to the love of his life, they have two dogs, Greta and Harper, and two daughters Adrienne and Katie. These represent his life.

Book preview

Carrie Come To Me Smiling

Copyright 2018 K. Adrian Zonneville

Published by K. Adrian Zonneville

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy.

Discover other works by K. Adrian Zonneville;

Z: One Family's Journey From Immigration through Poverty to the Fulfillment of the Promise of America

American Stories

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank all those who enjoyed American Stories and wanted the journey to continue. Though this is Carrie's story it is my hope that you will enjoy it as much.

I could not accomplish this without the support of my family and friends and those who believe. Thank you from my heart.

The title for this book is from a song by my dear friend Alex Bevan, Carey Come smiling, a beautiful and well written song. It is one of my favorites by him and he was kind enough to allow me to use it here.

Mostly this does not happen without the love and support of my children, Kathryn Corrigan and Adrienne Zonneville, and especially my wife and love of my heart and soul, Mumford

The front cover photo is by N. Mumford

The back cover photo is by Steve Szabo

Cover design is by Tom Misuraca

Editing by Caroline Jones-Davis

Chapter One

Waves crashed.

Thunderous, ceaseless, like the pounding of the tympany of the Gods. Loud, constant, riding the black and iridescent green, glowing, threatening storm, echoing the thunder hammering from above. The clouds whipped into a cosmological frenzy by the howling winds. Flashes of brilliant white mocked her despondency, tempting her to come play upon the waves. Did she have the courage? Or the suicidal tendency strong enough to grab her board and come battle the ocean? The electricity of each sharp snap of brilliant light coursed through her nervous system and pulled her toward the water. Exciting her, stimulating her heart, prickling her skin, burning in her brain. She couldn’t see details around her, just blurred misshapen broad strokes of dull colors and movement.

The thumping of the waves beat against her well-constructed emotional walls, her barrier against all reality. Walls she’d constructed from her youth and the molestation by her uncle, through her aunt’s ignorance of, or refusal to see, his despicable behavior. Save the marriage, destroy the child. She had built these walls well, they were strong enough to withstand anything, anything, anything, except the death of, the death of; she couldn’t.

Just as surely as real waves would wear down the largest boulder having the gall to stand in their way, her psychic, soul wrenching waves would shatter her walls. Real, imagined, psychological, it didn’t matter, she was just as soaked. She could feel the pain leaking through those walls, spilling from her heart, through her eyes, out her wracking sobs. She was quite certain, very soon, her world would complete its’ decaying, dying, crumbling and she would disassemble and melt into insanity. The pain of losing Kim too much for her to bear.

She had considered running to Dennis and hiding in the safety of his own resurrection from the loss of his family. How had he survived? Booze, self-destructive behavior, near suicide, that had been his salvation. She had no desire to follow that path. She could go to him, but she knew what he would say. She knew what he would force her to do. She could see it as she leaned against the weathered doorframe of her patio facing the ocean.

Return to the sea.

She just couldn’t. The pain was too great. The sea would only remind her. It had been the last and most intimate thing she and Kim had shared. She had spent weeks teaching, and then surfing with, Kim before Kim had packed a few belongings and left.

She wouldn’t need much, she wouldn’t be gone that long. Just a few days, maybe a week, or two at the outside. Yeah, fucking right! Before she’d deserted Carrie. Before she’d needed to finish her stupid fucking journey. So they could have a life together. A life promised and sworn to before, before…before Kim died. There she said it. Before she’d fucking died.

Before Carrie had killed her. And there was the truth of the pain. Carrie had pulled the plug. She’d let Kim die. She didn’t have to. Kim had, of course, done her due diligence and, without Carrie’s knowledge, had changed her will and made Carrie her Power of Attorney and in charge of all things Kim. Of course, she had, it was so Kim. So anal, so planned, so perfect. Though how she could be so certain Carrie would fulfill her wishes, would stop the machines, stop her heart, stop Carrie's own heart, stop any reason to go on for either of them. To stop time and life and feeling. How she could be so sure Carrie would do it, could do it; would kill her.

Because she loved Carrie as much as Carrie loved her. And she knew, she knew as sure as daylight, Carrie wouldn't let anyone else do it. She would not allow some doctor, whose name Kim didn't know, to carry out this final obligation. She knew Carrie would look into her eyes, and tell her she loved her, and she would hold Kim until the last. And only Carrie could, and Kim would allow no one else. That was love.

Carrie collapsed onto the chez lounge and wept, wept until there were no more tears. Her face scrunched in on itself as if to hold in the grief, the anguish and misery. She closed it and locked it tight, so no more agony could find its way out. She would hold this ache, she would shove it deep down inside and build new walls for new heartache. Tomorrow, she would. And slept.

The banging on the front door startled her awake. Who in the hell could be barging in on her melt down. Who had the audacity to invade her private suffering, her cell of despair, her tortured soul? Who would have the balls to bother her so soon after?

She stormed to the door, her face reflecting the dark clouds and torrential rain attacking her home from the ocean. She yanked the door open to spew her pain and sorrow. Dennis stood there, like a droll apparition, rain pouring from his stupid rain hat, soaking his worn, tattered shorts and tennis shoes. He had his fist raised to pound on the door one more time as she opened it. She disintegrated into his arms.

Time ticked once again. It had stopped for her between seconds, she'd been condemned to live in that limbo for eternity. Now time moved, and then ran like living hell. Dennis, her one true friend, her true dad, her rock, had come. As she had known deep in her soul he would. He would know her pain. He would feel it on the wind, in the energy of the universe. He, of all people, would know the pain she was experiencing. He would know and, of course, he would come. Like any good father to comfort his child, he would, and he did.

He took her in his arms and held her. His drenched rain gear soaking her to the bone, nothing had ever felt so wonderful. He'd brought wine and food from up the road, Dennis didn't cook, not even for this. But he'd found a good joint that had thick, juicy burgers and poppers. When death and sorrow come knocking, bring on the grease.

They ate and drank. She cried, and he listened. They had done this before, so many years ago, but he still could listen, intent as a rock. He would stay a few days or a week, or whatever she needed. He was here, and they would heal together. He knew she needed him, and he had come, that was all that mattered for the moment, they had time and he would provide space.

The storm abated, and they sat and watched the ocean. He never pushed nor tried to goad her onto it. They just watched. She would find her peace. She would find her balance. She would find her heart. He had come to find her misery and ease it from her soul.

Though, she hadn't a clue how the rest of Kim's people had found her, or even known of Kim’s passing; especially this soon. It was impossible, how would they have any clue Kim had died. And how had they found Carrie? No rhyme, no reason, but, they came. One by one over the course of the next week. They came and stayed. Some with her, some up the road at the local motel. They cooked and drank, they shared their stories and their grief. They knew, they had known it was only a matter of time, and now they came.

Why? That was the only word Carrie could utter. Why would they care? Why would they come all this way? They’d only known Kim for such a short time. A few days, an afternoon, a couple hours in their lives. How could she have touched them so deeply in so little time they would stop their lives to come?

But Carrie knew. Because Kim had become so entwined in her own soul in one night. They had become one being, one soul, one entity. It was Kim and how she’d open herself and allowed them to come in and share of themselves. It was her essence.

And here they were, all of them. All those Kim had told her about. The waiter, the musical mechanic, the trans girl and the Marine. The truck driver and the waitress. All had come to pay their respects and to thank Carrie for sharing Kim with them. If for just a moment in time.

Henry, dear, sweet Henry, of course he would return, and right at this time. He smiled as he came through the door gesturing at the full house. The noise, the hum of conversation between people who had never met but knew each other intimately through a single human conduit. Some had already been here a day or two, some an hour, some just walking in, but they knew. There was a companionship of shared love and grief. And a need to be near the one person so close to the life they’d shared for an instant. There was no time here. Carrie didn’t know if this happened in an afternoon or a month. It didn’t matter, she needed them, and they needed each other. They would hold each other and murmur nothings at each other. They knew that each would be there for the other should the need arise. They were all family now and would be forever.

Carrie knew Henry, she loved the old man just as Kim had. They had met when Henry had shown up while Kim was in the hospital. He’d had her transported from Santa Rosa to the UCSF Helen Diller Center, in San Francisco. He’d insisted they take her there when the hospital had called him. Kim, of course, had his name and number starred and I.C.E.’d on her phone, just as she’d had Carrie’s. The Helen Diller Center was the best in the area, so he’d demanded she be flown there. And he’d flown in from New Orleans on the first flight he could find.

Carrie had fallen deeply in love with the ancient Doctor as soon as he had held her in his loving arms. He was so kind, compassionate, and she could tell he loved Kim almost as much as Carrie did. If anyone could or would save her, he would.

But even he couldn’t perform miracles. Sometimes not even God can intervene. People die and not all the love, good intentions, knowledge, science or prayer can stop that.

Carrie had wailed and cried and pleaded with anything, any god or godling, any entity who would listen and with, apparently, many entities who wouldn’t. She’d made impossible promises. Offered up her own life, her fortune. She would walk away, and never see Kim again, if that would make the Gods happy. But she knew it was stupid. She could no more walk away from Kim than she could walk on the moon. The moon that had been theirs for such a short, short time.

It was late night and she held Kim’s hand. Carrie slipped in and out of exhausted sleep. She dreamed. She had visions. She hallucinated. She wept. Chest heaving and massive gulps of air wracking her body with emotionally draining convulsions.

And then, out of the ether, through the weariness and fatigue, a soothing energy flowed into Carrie's mind, into her heart, into every corner of her body. Carrie experienced calm. A soothing reassurance as if she were now safe in the arms of her mother. She sensed the comforting embrace of love and assurance. Only it wasn't her mother, it was Kim who held her; enfolding her in her arms and love. As if Kim occupied every corner of Carrie’s body and soul. Every sinew and muscle relaxed.

She could feel Kim’s warmth, her skin, her softness and love wrapping her and telling her it was alright. That Kim would never truly leave her. It was just this body, this vessel, that was of no use anymore. It was broken, and it hurt; dear God how it hurt. She was suffering. It was Kim's own body that revolted against her, it tortured her and filled her with excruciating pain. Kim couldn’t bear this anymore, she needed the pain to stop. She needed Carrie to be strong. Stronger than she had ever been and let Kim move on. Let her find peace and relief. Peace.

She would always be with Carrie. And Carrie knew it to be truth. She could feel Kim in her and would carry her with her forever. And she found peace in that thought, in that knowledge.

She told Henry of the dream, the experience, how real it had been. How she could feel Kim and knew it was Kim talking to her, reassuring Carrie while Kim asked for release; and he’d smiled. That beatific, knowing, kind and accepting smile. They had to let her go. And so, they did. That night. They sat by the side of her bed. Just Carrie and Henry holding her and loving her as she slipped into oblivion. And then they held each other for a very long time.

Henry had to return to New Orleans for a few days and then he’d fly back to the west coast and come to meet her at her home in Newport. They would drink some wine, and something else Henry would bring with him from New Orleans, some Voodoo drink. They would tell stories, laugh and cry. They would then give her a proper send off into the ocean. They would carry her ashes down to the water. They would pray to whatever they believed in or pretended to. They would lay her upon the waves and bid her eternal peace on the sea. Carrie needed that. She needed to know every time she stepped into the ocean Kim would be waiting. Every time she rode a wave, if she ever did again, she would feel Kim around her.

They had their ceremony and then retired to Carrie’s house facing the ocean and got drunk. All the while Henry played old rag time and New Orleans funeral jazz tunes on Carrie's upright piano. They let the tears wash away the pain. The problem with drinking away the pain is that when it returns the next day it brings with it a horrible hangover. And physical discomfort to add to the emotional. She'd suffered, the doctor had helped her.

Henry was unfazed by the imbibing, he was bright as a new morning. The phone rang, he talked for a few moments and hung it up. Deep in thought, he explained he had a small family emergency back home. It was the only thing in this world that could make him leave, but he had to go. It would take a day or two. He'd returned to New Orleans with the promise of a quick return. Family needed him, and it was nice to be needed, but he would come back within a few days.

So, Carrie had, left to her own devices and alone, crashed again. She'd tumbled down into despair and self-pity.

That was when Dennis showed up as if he knew of Henry's departure and her loneliness. She should have known he would come. Where else would he be?

But who would have believed that the rest of these characters would also show up at her door. Like out of a dime store novel about the hereafter and spirits and shit. They had been pulled here and they came. They didn’t know why they’d come, it didn't seem to matter. They didn’t question the fact they’d come hundreds, thousands of miles to a place they’d never heard of. But come they did. It seemed the most natural thing in the world.

The old sculptor from Montana and the teacher from up in Seattle. Hell, even the two women Kim had met in Billings and only shared a dinner with, found themselves with an unplanned business trip to Eugene, and came over to the coast. How they had remembered Kim from that brief meeting they neither knew or cared. Carrie as much at a loss to explain as they themselves had been. They just knew they had to come.

The Story Teller from Austin seemed the only one not baffled by the confluence of human wreckage washed up on the shore outside Carries house. It was as it should be, he said.

Oscar Haber, the ancient Jewish man Kim had met in Washington State, was on his way to Palestine and gotten sidetracked by bad weather and found himself just driving here. They’d come from every corner of the country. Not knowing why, they’d just been pulled here.

And so, they all had stood on the beach, passing wine bottles, and a couple joints someone had thoughtfully brought, as each told their story of meeting her. Of talking to her. Of how their lives had changed. The young woman from the Gulf had been reunited with her family in New Orleans and all had been forgiven; though they still had not found her husband nor any sign of his fishing boat. They would never give up. Those who go to the sea for life never do. And she now had the support of her family as she raised her small children.

Many mentioned how their lives had been improved by anonymous gifts of support and financial help. Some unknown benefactor had given them a financial leg up soon after meeting Kim. They promised they would return these gifts back to their communities. And Carrie cried knowing, knowing in her heart, how Kim would live on in each and every one of these people. Kim would live on, as well, in every person they would touch for the rest of their lives. And how every one of those lives would follow in that tradition. If there is such a thing as immortality this was as close as anyone could come.

And just as quickly they were gone. A few days, a week and the house was empty. Except Dennis and Henry. The rest had gone back to their lives, to do what they could to help others, to help themselves, to live.

Kim had gone to the ocean and the rest had gone back to life. Henry and Dennis were the last to leave with promises of keeping in contact and checking in on her frequently. She promised to call them and come for a visit. And they had gone. And then, Carrie curled up in a fetal position with Oscar, her other true love, wrapped tightly in her arms. She would lay here just for a moment or for a few weeks.

She was quite certain she had floated and skimmed on the edges of sanity. She surfed the waves of mortality, self-destruction and lunacy. It was her finest hour.

But in the background of it all was the constant crashing of the surf, the scent of the ocean, filled with life and promise calling her. And so, she came. She donned her wetsuit and took to the sea. The waves rising and falling, breaking on ocean bottom as they broke on her heart. Drowning in sorrow, she found she could only breathe in the water and the sea breathed life into her. Oscar sat patiently on the shore, watching, at the ready, if she should truly fall.

She knew in her bones she’d spent enough time wrapped in misery, wallowing in loneliness. She had been alone most of her life, it had never bothered her in the least. She had enjoyed the freedom that alone brings. But she had never known the crushing weight of loneliness. She knew it now, and she knew she had to find a way out from under that weight.

Time to get life back together and live. To live for Kim who couldn’t, and if, for no other reason, for the love that burned like molten lava deep in her chest for Kim.

She quickly discovered, in a meeting with the lawyer Kim had hired to watch over her investments, that Kim, in typical Kim fashion, had papers drawn up leaving everything she owned to Carrie. Everything! Investments, cash, her philanthropic foundation ̶ hilariously called The Plan ̶ all she possessed, lock, stock and barrel, to Carrie. Of course, she had, that was so Kim. Carrie could hear her voice, ‘I love you, you are all I have or ever need so why wouldn’t I leave everything to you?’ So logical, so planned. Carrie had wept.

And now she had more financial wealth than she could have ever imagined. She had no idea what she would do with such a fortune. Yet, that wasn’t true, was it? She knew exactly what she had to do. She felt the wave rise under her, lifting her and paddled, hard, catching, then rising, standing, riding. She made her decision as, numb, she came to shore.

She took the truck in for a once over. Find every single thing that might need to be replaced, she told Jimmy, the proprietor and mechanic in this, mostly, one man show, and replace it. If it looked slightly worn put on something new. If it might be fouled throw in a new one, whatever. Carrie knew nothing about the mechanics of her truck, but she had a good mechanic and he never let her down. Oh, and give me extra parts for what might break along the way.

She’d sold Kim’s car for a pittance when she had gone to California to claim the body. She gave Jimmy the few thousand and told him to use what he needed and keep the rest for when she came back. He had two weeks to go over it with a fine-toothed comb.

Wait! What had she just said? She was remembering Kim, remembering going to bring her home, her one and only love, and she’d said what?

God, she shivered, is that the coldest expression in the known world? Claim the fucking body, really? But that was what she’d done. It wasn’t Kim anymore, Kim was gone, this was just the casing. The beautiful, warm, loving, giving, wonderful, perfect casing. She didn’t even notice the tears anymore, they were as much a part of her as breathing. Someday they would stop, yeah, and so would the turning of the world.

Dennis had held her long and hard before he left, he'd come to say goodbye, as if to shove some of his strength into her soul. He kept telling over and over that it would be alright, she would survive. Time, time was all it would take. Time to heal. Time to find her life again. Time to come to the surface and breathe.

She thought he almost was beginning to believe it himself. Maybe he was. Maybe he was coming to the surface, finally. Really coming to the surface. Hell, it had only been about thirty years. He would always be there for her; and she would be there for him. She knew that and was grateful. She was as connected to him as any single entity on this planet. Now that Kim was gone.

And so was Dennis. He'd stayed as long as he could, a couple weeks. But she had to stand on her own, and he had to go so she could start.

For now, she would start to heal. To feel the surf, submerse herself in the ocean. Allow the scent of life, the beginning of life, the creation of life to fill her body and soul. From the ocean life came and evolved, and now Carrie must do the same.

Kim had started the journey that brought her to Carrie as a journey to learn how to die. Carrie must come to the point where she could start her journey to learn how to live.

She had no idea where or even how to begin. God! How had Kim done this. Just get in a car and drive, meet people, talk to them. Are you shitting me? There had to be more to this than what Kim had explained. There had to be a trick of some sort, but what?

Carrie was not a fan of the human race. She’d seen the ugliness. She’d known what it felt like when you were powerless against an aggressor. She knew what it was to be raped and threatened. And now she was just supposed to go out and mingle with this species? This was nuts, just freaking nuts!

If only she had Kim’s courage. If only she had…what? Kim’s death sentence? Isn’t that where all the courage, all Kim's bravado and taking chances, had come from? Because Kim knew, just like those who told her their stories, that this was all temporary. Carrie didn’t have that. She knew she had all the time in the world and people would remember.

She had to get into the right frame of mind if she was going to really know Kim. If she was to experience what had brought Kim to her. And she wanted that, she wanted it more than anything. She wanted to have Kim next to her, to feel her and hear her voice. The only way to do that now was to go out and see, hear, feel and live as she had done. Carrie would experience humanity, maybe help a few folks along the way, and maybe stop hating what she thought they really were.

Throwing a light shawl around her shoulders she stepped out the door to walk the half mile into town and the small garage that had her pickup. It was a 1952 Ford with a standard transmission and a six-cylinder engine. Just perfect for her and Oscar. He loved to ride in the cab but was just as content to hop into the bed and lay down.

The ancient man, Jimmy, who owned the single bay garage, came out to meet her as she walked up the gravel drive.

So, you going somewhere special? he asked

Just traveling, just got to get away for a while, she smiled back at him.

Well, she’s in real good shape. Bobby’s just bleeding the brakes one more time to make sure you got a nice pedal and then you’re ready to go. He wiped his bald head with a dirty rag and then shoved it into his back pocket. I’m gonna miss this old girl, he said turning to gaze at the truck, "they don’t make ‘em like this no more.

Everything gotta be computers and blue teeth and technology, he almost spit the word. But see this here old girl she’s simple. She don’t ask much. Just change her oil, use good gas, don’t beat her, treat her kind and she’ll love you and run forever, he shook his head and smiled.

I started workin’ on these back in ’67 at a gas station up a ways from my folks house back in Ohio. He grinned, bet you didn’t know I was from back east, did ya? Carrie shook her head.

She didn’t think she had ever spoken more than ten words to Jimmy in all the time she knew him. She would just drop the truck off, he’d nod, say hello, and when she’d come to pick it up he’d just say, all set, and she’d be off.

We was from up around Cleveland, he gazed into the past, "out a bit, not in the city proper but not country. And I got a job pumping gas for a dollar an hour when I was just a kid. The boss was a great guy, Ronnie, and he took a liking to me. Thought he could turn me into a mechanic, maybe. If I was willing to work hard and learn. Well, I liked working on cars. I liked tearing them apart and putting ‘em back together better’n they were before. I could hear what was wrong with them half the time while they were driving up to the garage. They’d tell ya if you’d listen.

"By God in Heaven, we had a lot of fun workin’ at that garage. Don’t get me wrong it was hard work. Hotter than hell in the summer and cold with snow dripping and falling on you in the winter, but I loved it.

"Met my wife while I was working there. Purty little thing, car limping into the lot and her so upset. Well, I had her fixed up lickety split. Asked her out that night. ‘Course she said no. Everybody just laughed at me. This little guy, all covered in grease and oil, looking like I just stepped out of a sewer. Dumb, that what I was, just a dumb kid.

But she came back the next day for gas. I checked her tires, checked her oil and she checked me out, I guess, ‘cause she said she’d go out with me on Saturday. Guess who was laughing now! He slapped his leg and did a little jig of glee.

Who was this guy? And what had he done with Jimmy? Carrie had known this man since she had come to Newport, with her truck in need of repair, and he had been suggested as the best to work on an ancient vehicle such as hers. He had always been quite a staid, no nonsense kind of guy.

What do you need? When do you need it? I can do that and will have it ready for you when I tell you. Do you need a ride back to your place? That