The Unexpected Life of Carnegie Lane
Page 3
Putting down all the peripheral information, he picked up the manuscript itself and began at page one. By the time he made it to page forty, he was absolutely and irrevocably hooked. Words became pages and pages became chapters. As if he was in a frenzy and recognizing he had no time to waste, he read entranced by every word as if they were air. Within the pages of the book was something relatable to him. He read words that he himself could have put together and found new lyrics behind a sentence that he understood. The entire book rolled in front of his eyes as if it was a movie. To Nate, the story was more than just a work of fiction. It was strangely a story about him, a girl, and an impossible heart wrenching connection that was fated at every turn.
When Katalie turned up at lunch time, Nate gave her a wave but his eyes never left the page.
“Having fun are you?” Katalie enquired as she put her coat on the hook and walked into the kitchen to get a drink. She noted the pages spread out all over the lounge and hoped it was recoverable.
“This book is great… hang on I’ll just get to the end of this chapter, then I’ll stop.”
“Good hey. How many did you look at?”
“Just this one, hang on a sec Kat, getting to a good part.”
Kat rolled her eyes. It was hard for her to think that her brother might have magically picked up the best story in the pile. There had only ever been a limited number of manuscripts that had held her interest from start to finish. In saying that, mostly, it was because she had a million to get through. Some she recognized had a great story. They just needed editing and some love and attention to really make them shiny. There were a lot of books she had chosen that made up her collection in the spare room. She always read them with a feeling of satisfaction.
Katalie made a coffee and put on the television, she watched the news and laughed as a report about her brother being interviewed before going on stage came on, backed by his latest hit. She looked to see if he was watching with her, he wasn’t. He was still totally involved in the story he was reading.
“You can’t take it with you when you leave you know that don’t you?” Kat was looking at her brother, wondering how attached he really was to that story. The reality was, by the time they did lunch and he regrouped with his band, there wouldn’t be much time in between to keep reading.
“Can I photo copy it?” He asked innocently, still not looking up from the pages as he did so.
“No of course you can’t.” She replied. Then she got up, showing him that it was time to make a move.
“Ok, just let me read to the end of this page then.” Nate Bowman, now realizing that his time was very limited had no intention of moving from that lounge until he had devoured every word that Carnegie Lane had taken the time to put on paper. He was two hundred pages down when Katalie got home, he had three hundred and twenty to go. Even though it sounded like a huge amount of pages, it was luckily in double spacing. An hour later, she got up, grabbed her coat and mumbled something about take away. Nate didn’t really hear her, he just mumbled back to be polite.
By 5 o’clock that afternoon, Nate had turned off his blackberry phone and his sister was getting the calls asking where he was, and if he was planning on surfacing any time soon. By 7 o’clock that night, he had fifteen pages to go, and Kat had soothed the screaming crew by promising to get him to the airport in the next forty minutes.
“Just take the last pages with you, we have to go Nate, there’s going to be a swat team breaking my door down any minute if I don’t confirm that we are on the road.”
“Ok… ok!” He replied and jumped up off the lounge. He gathered the entire package together, shoving what he could back into the envelope. He held onto the last fifteen pages of that story for grim death as he followed his sister down to the underground car park. Once on the road, he continued reading as Kat called everyone to let them know they were on their way. At one stage, she turned on the radio. He reached over, without looking up and turned it off. The music was wrong for the story. He just needed to read the ending with nothing but his own choice of sound setting a background tone.
Five minutes out from their destination he read the final word. He was overwhelmed with emotion. It had been a long time since he had read a book and loved it, and he had never read one that resonated with him quite the same as this one had.
“That was fantastic…I’m finished…wow.” He said to no one in particular. He was muttering to himself.
“Thank god for that.” Kat replied genuinely under her breath, as they waited at the lights just before the turn into the International Flight Departure area of Heathrow Airport. Nate put the pages on his lap and then started rumbling through the envelope looking quickly for the bio page of Carnegie Lane. He pulled out the photo and had another look. This time, she didn’t look like an average forty two year old woman with tired eyes. She looked beautiful. He turned his Blackberry back on and waited for it to boot up.
A myriad of ding dongs greeted him as his frantic missed messages began piling in. He opened the address book, copied the address, phone number and email details of Carnegie Lane into it. Then he put everything back into the envelope as neatly as he could and placed it on the back seat of his sisters’ car. He didn’t know why he so desperately needed to know where to get hold of her, or even if he ever would. All he knew was, right now, he needed to know that he could find her. Somehow, she had begun to matter.
They pulled into the departure drop off zone and Kat started unloading her brother as best she could surrounded by screaming girls who were amazed that he was there, arriving through the front door. Security guards realizing what was happening moved in to allow a path through the crowd and the flashes from the cameras began.
Nate gave his sister a hug and apologized for not really spending that much time with her. He thanked her for the opportunity to read the story. He told her somehow it had just changed his life. Katalie rolled her eyes and hugged him back. She figured that he needed space from his world, and if reading a possibly poorly written manuscript would do it for him, then so be it.
The folder that now contained the mixed up pages of Carnegie Lanes’ book slipped from the seat in the back of Katalie Bowman’s car and fell to the ground, disguised by a million things that had managed to become permanent travelers. Katalie almost had a wardrobe in the back and amongst it were papers, books, folders and the occasional fast food coffee cup. By the time Katalie made it home, she forgot all about that manuscript as she wearily made her way up to her flat and crawled into her bed. It had been a very… long …day.
The following night, to a crowd of hundreds, Nate Bowman and his band Sheeva’s Disciples played enthusiastically. He held the microphone out for the crowd to sing the chorus of his latest hit. He had forgotten for a moment the words and the story that had haunted him the night before and long into the following day. That was until he made it to the final verse in his new song. The very same song he had sung in his head as he read the final words of Carnegie’s manuscript.
“Be still my heart, I’ll find another love for you”
As the crowd roared, his band went off stage to have a quick break and wipe the sweat from their eyes while Nate picked up an acoustic guitar and began playing with his fans. He sang acoustic bits out of previous hits he knew they wanted to hear. He sang choruses of covers to songs that he loved. It was then he decided to sing another song, one he himself had loved, yet never attempted on stage. He walked over and grabbed a stool that was in the wings and headed back to the microphone in the middle of the stage. He sat down and began to speak.
“This is a song, for a girl I haven’t met yet. It’s her favorite song, by her favorite band, The Cure… It’s called… ‘To wish Impossible Things’. ”
The crowd went wild and some even sang along, overjoyed they knew the words. Others just wished they had heard of it and were determined to go home and look it up on YouTube. Never the less, there wasn’t a lighter that remained unlit or a mobile phone not held up
above heads in the entire venue at that point in time.
On the other side of the world, in the middle of the day, Carnegie was performing a routine concert of her own as she dusted and cleaned her humble little home. At the exact same time, if time was exact, and holding a can of furniture cleaner in her hand as a makeshift microphone, she engaged her ornamental audience with her eyes. She sang the verse that had for all time meant the most to her. It became a harmony of sound between two voices that no one would ever know had happened, except for the angel of fate that had allowed it in the first place.
“It was the sweetness of her skin, it was the hope of all we might have been, that filled me with the hope to wish, impossible things….to wish impossible things….to wish impossible things.”
Nate Bowman finished the song to a roar of applause, just as she did in her head. She took a bow and thanked the books and statues for being such a great audience. The drums began to beat out a solo just as Nate’s band hooked into the second last song of the night. He gave his acoustic guitar to a roadie and someone removed the chair. Her washing machine rang out a series of chimes reminding her to go hang the clothes on the line. From that moment on, everything he sang reminded him of the girl he had never met and the story that had changed his life.
Carnegie Lane, single mother of four, idol to inanimate objects, and almost Author, had suddenly and unexpectedly, acquired her very…first…fan.
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree
I travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody’s looking for something.
“Sweet Dreams”
Written by Annie Lennox and David A Stewart
Eurythmics – Sweet Dreams Album –1983
4
Two months later and life went on, with still no word about her book from anyone. In fact she had almost forgotten about it in a way. That didn’t change the fact that the effort made to do what she did had healed her to some degree. Carnegie was having a great day at home, doing what she did best. Somewhere in this journey she had come out from under the rock she had been coveting, and glimpses of who she really was, started shining through.
The daggy sneakers made way for her beloved Doc Martin boots, the overgrown shirts became red and white striped stretch shirts, with a vintage jacket over the top. Her hair became a focal point in her life again, strangely braided in unlikely places, tied with ribbons and bows. The eyeliner came out, and those blue eyes were framed in perfect black.
It wasn’t that it looked bad, in fact if she had still been living in Paddington, no one would have batted an eye lid. Only she wasn’t in Paddington, she was in Bundaberg. A town where flannelette shirts ruled supreme, and anything slightly off-beat could almost have been viewed as satanic. At least, it was in the street she lived in.
Her twin daughters had started spending more time at home, studying and preparing for their trial Higher School Certificate exams. She fussed over them, made them lots of their favorite food, and when their music blasted from the bedroom, she bit her tongue. Switching off the sound button in her brain and turning on the memory button to the music that was her life line, she could suffer it. It almost felt like a betrayal to leave the songs of the 80’s behind so easily and move on. It just wasn’t right, on any level!
If only she had really listened that day, she would have heard the voice of the only other person in the world, who at that time, had read her story. Her girls were huge fans of Sheeva’s Disciples. As for Nate Bowman, well it was doubtful they would ever look sideways at anyone with him walking the earth. They, along with thousands, simply adored him. It didn’t matter that he was almost the same age as their father. He was a musical genius that was easy on the eyes to the point of permanent distraction.
Carnegie had noticed the change in the music scene and how it had taken on a very scripted presence. The girls who were making it would dance on stage, throwing themselves around in not much more than a swimsuit, and even though they could possibly sing, their music lacked bass, real drums and therefore, soul! It was a phenomenon that she didn’t understand and it all ended for her with ‘Milli Vanilli’ and the lip sync blunder.
There were some good rock bands out there if she had chosen to follow them. Right now, her take on most modern music was that rock stars had become almost like lava lamps. Pretty to look at but not very bright, let alone overly talented.
Leaving the girls to worship their chosen sounds in their own way, Carnegie escaped to the sanctuary of her bedroom. It had been a while since she checked her email, so now was as good a time as any to do so.
Carnegie had set up a completely new email address, still determined to avoid contact with anyone. It was almost disappointing opening it regularly, only to find it empty. Today was different. Signing in via Google to her new Gmail account, a little sign popped up that said one new message. Her heart almost skipped a beat with joy. Carnegie.Lane@gmail.com had mail!
All of her excitement came to a screaming holt when she realized the sender was not the agent, yet some unknown completely. Still, she opened her email, curious to see what they wanted and hoping it wasn’t a bail out from Nigeria offering her millions of dollars from a long lost trust fund if she helped.
-----Original Message-----
From: Nate Bowman (nate@sidebow.com)
To: Carnegie Lane (carnagie.lane@gmail.com)
Sent: Thu, May 26, 2010 10:58 pm
Subject: Hello
Hello Carnegie,
My name is Nate Bowman. My sister Katalie Bowman recently received a manuscript from you, your story “Impossible things”. I happened to be visiting her, and I had the opportunity to read it. I just wanted to tell you that I loved it. I really hope that you do well. You deserve it. I hope you stay in touch. I am interested in the world that lives inside your head. I find it inspirational.
All the best
Nate x
Thanks Nate whoever you are…she thought, when she read it. The name Katalie Bowman was the one she resonated with. So ok, it wasn’t from her, it was from her brother but hey, who was she to worry about that? Someone else in the world liked her book! Carnegie had absolutely no idea who Nate Bowman was, so it wasn’t like she was about to do a back flip in her bedroom over the email. She did feel somewhat obligated to reply though; sort of chuffed she was answering her first fan mail.
-----Original Message-----
From: Carnegie Lane (carnagie.lane@gmail.com)
To: Nate Bowman (nate@sidebow.com)
Sent: Fri, May 27, 2010 11:25 am
Subject: Hello
Hello Nate,
Thank you for the encouraging words. I’m pleased you liked my story, although, most importantly I’m keen to hear if your sister liked it. I’m not sure if you would really be that interested in the world inside my head, it’s a bit trippy at times. Again, thanks for the encouragement. Have a great day.
Carnegie Lane
She sent off that email without a second thought, other than hoping Katalie Bowman was loving it too, and being polite to her brother would have to be a tick in the box. Her day just got a little brighter, regardless. She looked up some songs on YouTube, (it had a plethora of 80’s music to choose from) while she waited for the loud and vivacious rock music screaming from her daughters room to settle. Then she went out and began making dinner, singing silently to herself.
Carnegie lived her life in increments that varied in length between three and five and a half minutes. It really depended on the length of the song she was thinking about. Within those moments, she could become whatever she wanted. She could be singing to a crowd of thousands, or be standing in the front row of a concert, staring up at Robert Smith, wondering how he got so god damn talented in the first place. By the time her musical selection was over, she had all of her earthly tasks completed and she was revived, feeling like she just got home from a holiday. Music was her life. It just needed to be a little more updated than what it was.
Later that night, she decided to check her email again. The game of cat and mouse had begun. She had a reply.
-----Original Message-----
From: Nate Bowman (nate@sidebow.com)
To: Carnegie Lane (carnagie.lane@gmail.com)
Sent: Fri, May 27, 2010 9:15 am
Subject: RE: Hello
Hi Carnegie,
Thanks for the fast response, I really wasn’t expecting one at all to be honest. I’m not sure what my sister thinks of your story. I’ll text her and ask her. I’m sure she will love it. Your wrong on one thing, I would like to know what goes on in your head. Where did you get your story idea from in the first place? I feel like I know it. Have to run, got people telling me to get moving here. Another day, another dollar really. You have great taste in music, I love The Cure too. Keep in touch.
Nate x
She was happy with the response. He was going to check and see what his sister thought. Through the vague and very new connection with someone, who at that moment meant nothing to her, she was about to get the updates on her progress in the publishing world. Something that was made very clear in her acres of research, was very unlikely to happen. He wanted to keep the connection. She was happy to entertain it.
-----Original Message-----
From: Carnegie Lane (carnagie.lane@gmail.com)
To: Nate Bowman (nate@sidebow.com)
Sent: Sat, May 28, 2010 12:20 am
Subject: RE: Hello
Hi Nate,
I love my music, it means the world to me. In fact, in many ways it is my world. Hard to explain, you probably wouldn’t understand, even if I tried. Thanks for following up with your sister for me, I have been waiting to hear something, anything would do. I’m a bit new to all this, so not sure what to expect.