made the skyline look like crooked teeth

[refusedtocall]

She's not in shock, not really. At least, Carla Jean doesn't think that's the case, no matter how normal she knows it's supposed to be after a situation like this. Shooting and killing a man doesn't come without its consequences, after all, even when it's entirely necessary, even when there's a bizarre sort of satisfaction in it. Still, she thinks she can deal with seeing Chigurh's lifeless body when she closes her eyes and knowing that she's the one responsible for that, and with the accompanying mess of emotions (she'd thought it would feel better than this). It's the whole sequence of events that has her thrown for a loop. There might be something strangely appropriate about showing up in an entirely different place after having killed Chigurh, just as she showed up somewhere new after he'd killed her, but it's a hell of a lot to process at once. Months of worrying she might be losing her mind have finally come to an end, a sensation that would be enough to leave her stunned in its own right. Being in a place that's totally unfamiliar on top of that just makes it all the more difficult.

The same could have been said of the island, of course, but that wasn't like this. Even if its small community was still dissimilar to the Texas towns where she spent her whole life, it was quiet in a way she was accustomed to, at least most of the time. A city like this is foreign territory, nothing like she's ever seen in person before and a hell of a lot more daunting than she'd care to admit. At least she isn't on her own here, though. Having been found by Kate was more relieving than she'd care to admit, and hearing from her that there are others who remember being on the island was, too. It doesn't make trying to find her footing here any less strange, though.

She'll have to, at some point, go out and get clothes, groceries, all the other essentials like that; she'll have to find herself a job, too, though having some money in the meantime is reassuring. For now, though, she has more immediate concerns. Finding a corner store to duck into for a pack of cigarettes isn't too difficult, at least, even if the price is boggling enough that she nearly reconsiders. A lot's changed from 1980 to now, it seems, in ways that are a lot clearer here than they were on the island. She gives in, though, already taking one out of the pack to light on her way out the door, thinking as she does about how much Llewelyn would hate it. He never was a fan of the habit; she never cared, and she especially doesn't now.

Rather than going to the apartment that she knows is supposed to be waiting for her, she instead heads back out to the beach after. It's a far cry from the one she just lived near, but she thinks she likes that a little better. If nothing else, she thinks the air might help her clear her head, anyway. Instead of the quiet she'd been expecting, though, she finds a familiar face when she gets out there, and thinks that might just be better. "Hey, Harley."

Comments

[bloodycrescents]

"Carla Jean?"

I come down to the beach sometimes for no real reason. It's not far from work. I guess it's kind of comforting, a reminder of the old days back on the island. There isn't too much there I miss, but when I was there, it was good. Now, though, just about the last piece of the puzzle comes walking up, and I don't know what to think.

I just stare at her, slack-jawed, bewildered, not sure if she's in my head or not.