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WINTER 1996-97
AT CARLETON COLLEGE IN the cold of winter, Carrie is huddled away in her dorm room. She hasn't left in a week, only to go to the bathroom. Her roommate thinks she's gone crazy. The answer is that she's probably right.
In her first weeks at school, Carrie was on top of the world. She finally got to get away from the lingering depression in her home and go somewhere exciting. She got to meet other top students like her; she got invited to the parties and to kiss boys there. She was best friends with her roommate, and they maintained their high GPAs while having the time of their lives.
That was, at least, until Carrie just couldn't do it anymore. One morning she decided to leave in the middle of her class, and she never went back. She stopped going out, and she wanted to go home. It wasn't something she understood, she just knew she wasn't supposed to feel this way. What had seemed to start it was the rejection she received by a few guys, almost like Cole all over again. Each guy she met she fell for in an instant, and she would do anything for their attention. They all liked her, but either didn't want something serious or otherwise figured out they could use her to get things they wanted — answers to homework or sexual advances. And she didn't mind the attention, even knowing it wasn't good. Until the switch flipped and she refused to leave her bed.
She wanted to go home, even though she knew things wouldn't be much better there. She called each week to check in on her mother and brother, and neither of them seemed to be doing much better than before. At least Chris could be bothered to ask how she was. She'd rather be depressed at home than here, where she was now failing classes due to a lack of will. But she was also too afraid to embarrass herself and her family by coming home. If she told Chris, he would insist that she'd done nothing wrong and that she needed to come home so he could take care of her — fix her, though she could not be fixed. And she understood that to some extent that could be positive, but not always.
But the last straw comes when she's cornered in the bathroom by someone who should not have been in there. She refuses to recall much more of the incident. From there she returned to her room, got on her thick socks, boots, and heavy jacket, filled her backpack with a few things, and started walking. She was an hour from home, and she intended to get back without a car of her own.
She walked for about half a mile until she reached the outskirt of campus, hitching a ride from there to the edge of Minneapolis before the driver diverted toward St. Paul. From there she walked until she recognized where she was, and found her way to the bus station. She took her bus home after four miles walked in 10 degree weather. She's bawling by the point where she reaches her doorstep, hands shaking as she opens the screen door before the heavier one.
It's about 6:00, and she expects Chris to be home rather than her mother. But Donna sits at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, Chris nowhere in sight — his coat and keys were taken, he was at work. Carrie didn't want to have to talk, or explain, or anything. With Chris, she wouldn't have to. But Donna would demand answers and then be unable to handle them.
