hey, well what do you know. It was posted. Thanks a million for the welcome. Okay, so moving right along....
The Love Affair with Tara
Tara laid her bag down, sighed again and released two
buttons from her work jacket. Tonight, there would be awkwardness, and coldness and a lot of explaining on her part. The light in their bedroom would be switched off because it was like...
Tara squinted down at the watch on her wrist.
...it was like eleven forty-five in the evening and Willow would be lying between the sheets stiffly, feigning sleep because she was upset, mad as hell and hurt. Tara would have to talk about things, and she just didn't want to have to tonight. She bent her head and rubbed her temples, then brushed away blond strands of hair as they feathered her cheeks. Gosh, she just wished she didn't feel so tired, so incredibly tired and guilty.
She climbed two stairs, and stopped again. In a few moments she would have to deal with Willow, with the questions and answers, and she almost groaned aloud at her own stupidity. She had created the miasma of pain and confusion. The incredible hurt that she knew Willow must be feeling now was entirely her fault.
Tara's mind wondered to the unopened bottle of Merlot that she remembered sitting in one of the kitchen cupboards and she wondered with desperation if she should pour herself a few generous glasses before continuing onward. She was seriously contemplating it, when something caught her attention at the corner of her eye.
The television in the living room was on, and she wondered why she hadn't noticed that before. She didn't have a full view of the living room from where she was standing, but it was obvious now, the flickering shadows of light on the surrouding walls. Tara turned around slowly and moved towards the light.
As she had guessed, the television was on, volume muted, and Tom and Gerry looked very strange indeed, performing their usual pantomime without any sound. The room was in darkness, save for the coloful hue emitting from the tv screen. Tara almost missed Willow, sitting on the couch. Her head was thrown back, mouth slightly opened, and the remote control was dangling precariously from her fingers. Tara looked at her, sitting all alone, slight disturbed expression on her face, even as she slept in the darkness, and Tara's heart swelled with love and sorrow.
She moved silently. She knelt down in front of Willow, looked at her for a few more seconds, then gently pulled the remote control from her fingers. She laid it down on the center table behind her, turned to Willow again and squeezed her hand.
"Baby?"
She didn't feel any awkwardness now. Only love. A deep, stifling love that was gripping the walls of her throat and threatening to choke her. "Will," she whispered. "Wake up."
Willow stirred, sat up in confusion. She looked as old as four, so adorable and disoriented, eyes blinking, red hair sticking out slightly, except the friendly, freckly features were tensing with every second. She said nothing, just stared at the television for a moment or two, then turned and looked at Tara.
"It's nearly mid-night," Tara said, swallowing the awkwardness away, feeling it creeping ever so slowly into her voice. "Come on, let's go to bed."
Willow allowed herself to be pulled. She stood up, then took her hand away, pointedly, Tara felt. Tara switched off the television set, then she and Willow walked in silence towards the staircase.
In their bedroom, while Tara undressed, Willow crawled in the bed and covered herself with the large sheet. Tara glanced at her and wondered whether she should bathe first or talk. She pulled off her work jacket slowly, deliberately, feeling the dread again as it morphed her fingers into inept sausages.
Will, she whispered in her mind. I love you so much. Don't you doubt it for a second.
She managed to unbutton the jacket and flung it carelessly on their plush wicker chair. Then she crawled, still wearing her skirt and blouse, in the bed. Willow watched her silently from above the sheet, like a wronged child.
She's not going to make this easy for me, Tara thought, and just as she thought this, Willow said suddenly,
"When exactly, did you become ashamed of me?"
"I'm not ashamed of you," Tara replied. Willow's words gripped her heart like a hand. "I love you."
"I suppose that explains everything."
"I just want you to know that."
"You're a hypocrite."
Tara said nothing. She hated the situation they were in, hated that they were arguing like that. Most of all, she hated to see Willow angry and indignant and hurt as she was.
"I s-suppose it looks as though I am," she said softly.
"I'm proud of you," Willow said, and she flung the sheet away
from her body abruptly and got off the bed. Her features were twisting with confusion. "I've always been. I've never shunned you away from anyone. Once I realized my feelings for you I've never lied about it."
"No." Tara lowered her head.
"I thought we were in a different place, you and I, somehow," Willow continued. Her eyes moved away from Tara and then contracted, and she looked as though she was speaking to herself. "I thought, we love each other so to hell with the world. I guess I was wrong."
"No!" Tara looked up quickly.
"So tell me then why you're ashamed of me," Willow demanded, her voice rising.
"Shhh," Tara frowned. "You'll wake up Buffy."
"The hell with Buffy," Willow waved her hand.
"You should calm down," Tara got up from the bed, and began pacing the floor. Then she removed her blouse and unbuttoned her skirt. "You're making this a lot bigger than it is."
"I've never transformed you into something you were not," Willow watched her accusingly. "God, I felt like such an ass today."
"I'm sorry," Tara looked back at her pleadingly. "It s-should have never h-happened. I don't even know how it did. I know you don't believe me, but i-it's true. One moment we were working and the next moment, we were talking and then he asked about you...well, if I had someone in my life, and I said yes, and he asked what your name was, and I said Will, and he just assumed...
"I was a man..." Willow finished and glared at her.
"Yes," Tara looked back at her pleadingly.
"My name is Willow," Willow turned around, sat down on the bed with her back facing Tara.
Tara wrung the blouse in her hand, then dropped it next to the jacket on the wicker chair. She stood there helplessly for a while, then she said simply,
"I'm not ashamed of you."
Willow turned around and watched her bitterly.
"I suppose if I hadn't paid you a visit today, I would've never known what was going on in your office."
"Going on?" Tara repeated, sticking her hands out in frustration. "There's nothing
going on.."
"Yeah," Willow said. Then she turned again and shook her head slowly. "You know what's funny? The funniest thing was when you said, 'meet Will', and he grinned and said, 'Hey, you have the same name as Tara's boyfriend", I didn't get it. I thought, 'huh?' but believe me Tara, I didn't get it. Not until I saw your face. You looked so strange and guilty that I found myself really listening to this guy, and then it hit me, Holy Moly, the 'boyfriend' that he was talking about was me."
On another night it would have seemed so funny. Only tonight, it was anything but funny. Tara lowered her head, and then tried to think how she was going to explain it to Willow, to herself.
"I-I s-should have c-corrected him," she said finally. "I'm sorry."
"Are you attracted to him?" Willow shot the question at her so suddenly, that Tara didn't have a chance to answer. "I mean, I don't know," Willow continued, standing, and her thin frame looked so tense, that all Tara wanted to do was reach out and hug her. "I felt something. I don't think I was imagining it. I felt something."
"Willow, I've never been attracted to a man in my life, and you know that."
"I don't know anything," Willow shot back, scowling. "Why then, would you have to make up things about me?"
"I didn't make up anything," Tara rubbed her temples, flopped down tiredly on the bed. "I just didn't correct Eric when he thought I had a boyfriend."
"Why?" Willow pressed.
Tara shook her head. "It was stupid and ridiculous."
Willow watched her for a second, and then she muttered, moving away, "I'm sorry that I visited you today. I'm sorry I shattered your little fantasy."
"Willow, please," Tara reached out and grabbed her hand. "Don't do this."
"What am I doing?"
"You're turning this into something it's not." Tara stopped and looked up, and her eyes met Willow's and the green, heated ones held hers, and Tara saw anger there and hurt, but more importantly, a willingness to understand. She gripped Willow's fingers tightly in hers. "This guy at work, Eric, he's attracted to me. He told me so. I-I suppose I was a bit c-curious that's why I didn't tell you."
"Curious?"
"He's Mr. Drool Guy round the office and I don't usually get attention like that from men. Well, I don't look for it anyway. I think m-maybe I was a bit f-flattered..."
"Flattered? Curious?" Willow cut her off abruptly. "And you wonder why I'm feeling this terrible jealousy?"
"There's nothing to feel jealous about," Tara insisted. "There's nothing going on with Eric. And I'm not ashamed of you. I hid the truth about myself because I felt egotistical and powerful. Everyone wanted Eric and he wanted me. I-I guess also, I wanted to fit in. Everyone assumed that I was straight and I just went along with it. It was stupid and unforgivable, and you have every right to be upset and not speak to me ever again."
Willow said nothing, just looked at her.
"But I want you to know how horrible I felt," Tara continued. "I couldn't imagine what you must have been thinking when Eric said what he said. And you left so quickly afterwards. The whole afternoon I was just torn up inside."
"Poor baby," Willow said, sarcastically, but Tara noticed the familiar spark of mischief creeping slowly back to her eyes.
"I mean it," Tara said, pulling Willow's arms slightly. "I felt badly. Truly badly."
Willow tilted her head. "I don't think that's correct English."
Tara placed Willow's hand upon her chest, feeling Willow's warm fingers as they settled on the skin above her bra. Both women listened for a moment to the steady rhythm of Tara's heartbeat.
"I love you," Tara said, and the words caught slightly. "I want only you. I hate when you doubt that."
"I don't usually," Willow shrugged. Then she raised her brows and her eyes widened. "It's only when I'm transformed into a guy right before my very eyes that I get a little concerned because, hey, I like being a girl. Not that there's anything wrong with being a guy, but if I wanted to be a guy I could have done so easily, because there's nothing a little magic can't fix..." she stopped and took a deep breath.
Tara pulled Willow gently towards her. "It won't happen ever again." She said solemnly.
"Damn straight," Willow replied, mimicking her serious expression. Then she smiled, and the gesture was like a beautiful light, illuminating her entire face.
"Tomorrow," Tara said, letting go of Willow's hand suddenly, getting up with purpose. "I'm going to let the whole office know about you. I'm going to tell everyone how much I love you, and I'm going to tell Eric the first thing in the morning because I'm not ashamed of it."
Willow crawled back in the bed, and watched with amusement as Tara slipped out of her skirt absent-mindedly, flinging her arms importantly, still rambling non-stop.
"I want to show everyone how beautiful you are. You truly are, Willow. I don't deserve you. I tell myself everyday how lucky I am and sometimes I don't even believe it..."
"Um, baby?" Willow interrupted her. "You're looking a little...crazy now."
Tara stopped in mid sentence, her arms outstretched, standing there in only her bra and panties. Then she dropped the skirt she was clutching onto the floor and crawled next to Willow on the bed.
"I want you to visit me at the office again tomorrow so that I can do what I should have done today, and properly introduce you to everyone."
"Well," Willow made a face. "I don't want to be 'statement girl'."
"You're not going to be 'statement girl'," Tara said, reached down and kissed her softly on the mouth. "You're going to be 'my girl'."
"Hmm," Willow sighed, and smiled and reached for Tara as she leaned back. "I suppose I can't argue with you when you say it like that." Her hands worked up to Tara's face and they watched each other lovingly for a moment. Then Willow pulled her closer, and only when their mouths met again, tongues brushing in the intimate dance of desire and belonging, that Tara felt truly forgiven.
THE END
*thanks nika for the advise. I hope I paragraphed it right
Edited by: bijoux2 at: 6/14/04 10:38 am
. I like the start of your story and hope that you will continue it. I only have one suggestion, to make it easier on the eyes it's better for the reader when paragraphs are divided into smaller sections instead of having just one big block of writing. Of course not every writer likes to do that, so if you don't, we'll manage. So again, welcome! 
I can see how easy it would be for 
to not see 
's point of view, but then again you have to agree it should never have happened. Are you going to write more to this fic? I hope that you do. 
Thanx it was lovely
Looking forward to your last installment.
