NAME: Carter William Fontaine
NICKNAME(S): â
AGE: Thirty-two
BIRTHDAY: March 10th, 1990
ZODIAC SIGN: Pisces
GENDER IDENTIFICATION: Cis Male (he/him)
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Separated
RESIDENTIAL AREA: Outpost
OCCUPATION: Author
STRENGTHS: Compassionate, empathetic, artistic, imaginative, idealistic, selfless, contemplative, adaptable.
WEAKNESSES: Pessimistic, non-confrontational, indecisive, stubborn, unforgiving, gullible, overly-sensitive, emotional.
PLACE OF BIRTH: Westport, Connecticut
LENGTH OF TIME IN IRON RIVER: Two Years
family.
FATHER: Augustus Fontaine,
MOTHER: Cecelia Fontaine,Â
SIBLINGS:Â â
FORMER PARTNER:Â Talita Fontaine (6 years, 2014-2020)
CHILDREN:Â â
PETS: Cat called Pip
If anyone asked Augustus Fontaine what he believed in, with all his heart and soul, heâd simply smile and say âloveâ â it was the foundation of his poetry and the reason he was world-renowned. The words inked across his page spoke of a true love that was only found once in a lifetime, a love so strong and so powerful that if you were ever lucky enough to find it, you needed to hold onto it with both hands because it was fleeting and you might miss your chance. It was the kind of love you only read about in fairytales, or in this case, poetry. Carter grew up surrounded by bookshelves packed to the rims with popular authors, and poets, and philosophers; finding a place on the carpeted floor of his fatherâs study as they paged through the books. He couldnât read the words at such a young age, but he knew what the words meant. Words of lust, and love, and fate, and bravery, and achievement. Words that were soon recognized as his fatherâs, becoming entirely familiar with seeing the name AUGUSTUS FONTAINE on the New York Times Best Seller List each week. How lucky he was to look up to a man so accomplished and educated, who doted on his family with every breath.
Growing up in a home such as this, Carter was always encouraged to be exactly who he was. His parents allowed him to express himself in ways that most wouldnât, following his lead when it came to clothes, and interests, and most of all, identity. As Carter navigated high school, he relished in his non-conformity and his ability to present himself however he chose. His identity was expressed in many ways, beginning with the style of his hair, and the polish across his nails, and even the numerous tattoos that scattered his entire body. Â
He was a human being attempting to navigate his way through life in the most authentic way possible. This notion was conveyed in his writing too, following in his fatherâs footsteps and becoming a writer. Creative writing camps were attended and awards were won, finding himself engulfed in the literary world as soon as he could place pen to paper. Carter was so much like his father, his DNA recognized in not only the face that they shared but also the words that they wrote, and despite what anyone might have thought it truly was a perfect life. Nothing about Carter was perfect, constructed of mistakes and mishaps and poor decisions and all the wrong choices, but his parentsâ love was infinite and nothing was too big to diminish that, or the close relationship that they had maintained throughout the years.
When it came time for university, Carter traded the seafront of Westport for the concrete jungle of New York City as he began studying creative writing at New York University. Having visited countless times since he was a child, it was almost as if the city had been his home away from home all along, finding his place among the millions of people that walked the sidewalk each day or caught a train on their commute. There werenât moments when he wasnât scrawling his latest plot twist across a used napkin or staying up until all hours before handing in a paper that was 2,000 words too much. It was during his graduate program that he met the woman who would change his life, for better or for worse, no one was really sure how Talita would impact him. The talented artist took Carterâs world and spun it on its axis, becoming the center of his universe and the woman who would later become his wife. A romance that consisted of long love letters, painted murals, walks through Central Park, and an abundance of happy memories that would surely set the course for the rest of their lives.
There was no doubt in Carterâs mind about getting down on one knee and asking Talita to be his wife; sharing a love that heâd only read about in his fatherâs books, and feeling honored enough to be able to experience it in his lifetime. It was an intimate wedding a few months after he graduated with his masterâs degree, finding an overpriced apartment in Brooklyn where the newlywed couple would begin to build their life. Talita interning at a swanky art gallery across the river and Carter working on his debut novel, with days turning into weeks and then into months, before he finally had something worthwhile to submit to his literary agent. It wasnât as great as anything his father had written, but at twenty-five years old, it was his hope for the future and his dreams come to life on paper. His first novel, Rochambeau, was published the summer after his twenty-sixth birthday, with his parents hosting a release party at the Fontaine family home. The look of pride on his fatherâs face was something that Carter would never forget, choosing to capture the moment in a Polaroid photo: two adoring parents and their only child.
With the huge success of his first novel, penning his second novel was easy. Carter Fontaine had become a household name among avid book readers, building a dedicated fanbase with each day that passed. Book conventions were attended, and read alouds were done, all in preparation for the release of The Revelatories, which was said to be the yearâs most anticipated novel. However, something that wasnât anticipated was the ruination of his marriage to Talita. Finding your wife in bed with your best friend (and best man) is quite possibly the most clichĂŠ plot line of every romantic comedy, the irony not lost on Carter as he came face to face with the biggest betrayal of his life. The woman he had spent the past eight years with, building a life and building a home, had been biding her time with a man that they both called a friend. The dedication of his upcoming book was wiped clean of any mention of the woman he loved, and the marriage they shared, and an empty Brooklyn apartment was where Carter found solace. He didnât understand how a love like theirs could end in infidelity; it was never written about and never celebrated. Nothing had prepared him for the loss of a love that he had wholeheartedly honored.
Angry and inconsolable, when his second book was released, he didnât even attend the book tour and refused to go to any signings or do any interviews. Alcohol and small white pills became his escape, as he began challenging every notion heâd ever had about love. He still loved Talita, it wasnât something that he could turn off on a whim, but he couldnât even look at her. Putting off any talk of a divorce because that would mean theyâd have to come face to face with each other, sitting across the table from one another as they came to some kind of agreement â who kept the apartment in the city, and who got their vacation home in Florida, and what assets were shared among them equally. Denial was easier to stomach, and so Carter booked a one way ticket to Georgia, packing a single suitcase and his laptop.
His father had grown up in Iron River, and while he had never visited in his thirty years of life, he had seen pictures and heard stories. It was a place where he could remain somewhat inconspicuous and anonymous, if he wanted, renting a small house in Outpost where heâd spend his days. It was different to the bustling streets of New York City, and oftentimes the silence was deafening, but it was also needed.
