Previously:
Willow likes Tara. But doesn't know if Tara is gay or not. Tara doesn't even know herself. Xander likes Willow, but it's NEVER GONNA HAPPEN!
Moving on...
Warning... kinda angsty.
_______________________________________________
Willow lay reclining on the couch in her living room watching re-runs of “M*A*S*H” on TV. The apartment was relatively dark, with only the ambient light from the television and the small light over the kitchen stove providing any illumination. The redhead’s ears perked up as she heard the front door opening, and the sound of someone struggling through it with full bags, grocery bags. A familiar and comforting scent wafted toward Willow’s nostrils, and she knew without even having to look up that it was unmistakably…
“Hey, Baby”, she called from the couch, “You need any help?”
“No, I’m okay, thanks, Hon”, Tara answered, unloading her burden on the kitchen counter. “The store was a madhouse”, she commented as she began to load the groceries into the fridge and pantry. “What time did you get home?”
“About half an hour ago”, Willow replied, straining her neck to peer over the back of the couch and at her lover, bustling about. “You sure you don’t need any help?”
“Positive”, came the reply, “anybody call?”
“Xander”, said Willow, “he left a message. Wanted to know if I wanted to hang out tonight.”
“Do you?”
“Nah, I just wanted to spend the evening at home tonight.”
Tara finally made her appearance into the living room, crossing to where Willow sat and straddling her legs.
“Good”, she said simply.
“Good?” Willow inquired, more than enjoying the feeling of her girlfriend’s weight across her thighs.
“Mm-hmm”, Tara sighed, leaning in and capturing the redhead’s lips briefly. “I mean, I just hate eating beef stroganoff all by myself…”
Willow’s eyes instantly lit up. “You got stuff…”
“Uh-huh…” Tara smiled.
“To make beef stroganoff?” Willow was positively giddy. “You’re making my favorite?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s the occasion?” Willow grinned, shifting her legs happily beneath her lover.
“Well, I just wanted to make this evening special”, Tara explained, “particularly since today’s weather is cloudy with a high of 73 and scattered showers expected throughout the day.”
“Huh?”
Willow inhaled sharply as she awoke from her dream. Sitting up slightly, she turned her head to focus blearily on the clock radio going off beside her bed. She groaned, sniffled a little and rubbed her face tiredly before reaching over and shutting the abominable contraption off, not quite ready to start her day.
***
Tara was up to her elbows in soapsuds. She had felt the need to do something rather than feeling useless, as she generally did when it came to caring for her mother. Well, not so much useless as helpless. Her mother was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about that and she hated that feeling. So she had to do something. Something to busy her hands. That something had ended up being baking a cake… from scratch. The kitchen was now, in her opinion, an absolute disaster area, and so the something she had subsequently settled herself into doing was cleaning it up. Tara diligently scrubbed and washed each dirty pan, plate, and utensil to a sparkling clean, refusing to use the dishwasher because that meant cutting corners, and she desperately needed to do something time consuming.
Lisa, completely caught up in the music playing through her Walkman, be-bopped into the kitchen from the front hall, settling down at the island in the center of the room and unloaded a stack of mail onto its surface.
“Mail’s here”, she said, sidling up onto one the bar stools.
“Could you sort through it, Lees?” Tara asked, “I’m kind of busy here.”
“Sure”, Lisa sighed, dismissively glancing at each envelope and announcing the contents. “Bill…bill…bill…Get Well letter for mom… Get Well letter for mom…bill… Get Well letter for mom…Ooh, Publisher’s Clearing House. Hey, Tare, we may have won 10 million dollars.”
“Wouldn’t that be great”, Tara stated, rolling her eyes, “Anything else?”
“Yeah, there’s one for you”, Lisa announced.
“One for me?” asked the blonde, perplexed. “Who from?”
“Uh… return address says ‘Rosenberg’”, read Lisa, “Isn’t that Willow’s last name?”
“Yeah”, said Tara, “Why would Willow be sending me a letter? We just talked on the phone a couple of days ago and she only lives across town.”
“Maybe it’s an invitation to her Hallowe’en party”, offered her younger sister.
“That’s probably it”, Tara agreed, “could you open it and read it to me? My hands are all sudsy.”
“Sure.” Said Lisa, taking off her headphones and letting them rest on her neck while she tore open the long, slender envelope.
“Dear Tara,
“So it’s 8:35 on Friday night and I’m sitting in my living room listening to a mix CD that a friend made up for me, and my thoughts keep drifting to you. I just realized that you probably get a lot of ‘Get Well’ letters for your mom, but never any for you. Not that you are sick or anything, just that you don’t get the attention that is due you.
“You’re going through a really tough time, and you haven’t had anyone to help take up the burden with you. When my godchildren are feeling low about themselves, or are just stressed out, I like to take them into my arms and hug them and tell them to give me their worries, give me their pains, because they are far too young and precious to have to carry such a load.
“If only there was something I could do you for you. You have known too heavy a burden for too long in your life. If I could somehow offer you my support as a friend
to help lift some of the weight from your shoulders. I’m sure any sort of respite would be the only you have had in a long time.
“When I was young, my dad and I used to play this game we called, ‘I Wish For You’. We normally played it on road trips to help pass the time. The way you play is simple. Using the phrase, ‘I wish for you…” you something that you want for the other person. Pretty self-explanatory. When I was very young the wishes were almost always material in nature. ‘I wish for you… a new bike’, etc. But as I grew older they became more emotional or spiritually centered. With that in mind:
“Tara—
“I wish for you friendship.
I wish for you peace.
I wish for you hope.
I wish for you joy.
But most importantly—
I wish for you freedom.
I wish for you...
Love,
Willow”
Tara stood completely still by the sink, her hands stay resting underneath the soapy water, and she could feel the tips of her fingers beginning to prune. A strange sensation filled her chest, and not a pleasant one. Fear, panic, a sudden rush of embarrassment all pounded against the inside of her ribcage.
“Wow”, said Lisa after a moment’s pause. “Um, well… that was really… sweet.”
“Yeah…” She couldn’t believe that she had made her little sister read the letter aloud.
“Uh… is there something… going on with you two?” the younger woman asked hesitantly.
“No!” Tara answered, far too loudly to be convincing. “I mean, no…” she said again, this time keeping her voice calm. “What makes you say that?”
“Nothing”, Lisa tried to assure her, “It’s just… this letter… it’s…kinda like a love letter almost. Doesn’t she know that you’re straight?”
“Of course she does”, Tara defended, finally thinking to pull her hands from the sink, drying them hastily with a towel and taking the letter from her sister’s hands. “It’s just a friendly note. See, she even says, ‘as a friend’.”
“Why are you freaking out about this so much?”
“I’m not freaking.”
“Yes, you are”, said Lisa. “I know you too well, and this is you freaking. Tara, if you guys have something…”
“We don’t…nothing. I’m telling you there’s nothing.” She folded the letter up and stuffed it in her back pocket.
“Your reaction would tend to make me think otherwise”, Lisa countered.
“Just drop it, okay?” Tara was starting to lose her temper now, and that truly gave Lisa pause. Tara was a very temperate soul, but most likely as a result of all the current stress she was under, whenever she lost her temper, she would really lose it.
Lisa tempered her voice, trying to make it more soothing and not so accusatory. “Tare, if you have feelings for her, that’s oka—“
The blonde cut her off before she could get any further, “Well, I don’t, and I just wish you would let it go. It’s just a letter.”
“Okay, it’s dropped. It’s gone”, Lisa acquiesced, “This is me over it.”
Tara let out a long, defeated sigh. “Good, now, would you mind helping me put this stuff away?”
“Uh, okay, sure”, she agreed, step up over to the dish rack and beginning to unload it.
“I just have to run to the bathroom”, said Tara, excusing herself from the room.
Once inside the bathroom she removed the letter from her pocket and crumpled it in her hand, prepared to flush it down the toilet. But after several minutes of standing over the open commode, rumpled note in hand, she felt herself returning the tattered paper to the safety of her denim pocket, and leaving the small room.
*****
TBC...
Edited by: DarkWiccan at: 11/5/02 12:35:49 pm
nervous Willow was so cute 
I am so of the easily amused party. 
And i'm glad that Tara didn't throw it away...*phew*
at: 11/6/02 12:53:46 am
