I can't do it. These boxes sit on the bed, and I'm suppose to fill them, sorting out what of Tara's should be kept, and what should be given away, sold. Technically, I had no business in this setting. Tara and I had only had that last night together since our big fight, since she moved to this room I'm standing in. However, her roommate, the friend that took her in close to campus, said that I was all Tara spoke about. Sometimes, yes, it was with anger and hurt, but usually she spoke of me fondly, with good memories. Her roommate assured me that Tara wouldn't want anyone but me going through her stuff. Which brings the dilemma of the boxes on the bed. How can I sort out the life of a beautiful woman, turn it to nothing but a couple of boxes, one to sit in storage, barely looked at again, and another to be sold, for strangers to paw through? Tara deserves better than this. She deserves to use this stuff for several more decades, to bring it back to my house, someday to bring it to a house of our very own so we can start a life together. She can't be gone.
Magic. That's the only word I have for Tara, to who she is to me. She's the magic that changed my life. She helped me believe not only in the person I was, but in the person I could be, in the person that she saw when she looked at me. Magic. The thing that drew us together. Those moments the first year... learning new spells… doing impossible things… making a rose float in the air together, a sign of their trust and unity. And that first kiss, I can think of no better magic that the first time her lips touched mine. Her way of seeing beautiful around her, her nurturing spirit, her kindness and intelligence, everything about Tara was magic.
Magic is also what drove us apart. My need for power. My need for the type of strength I never thought I could possess. The ability to do anything I want, to be anyone I want, with no one to stop me. The rush of a perfectly performed spell. Tara hated my magic. No, that's wrong. Tara hated what magic became to me, she hated the control I gave it in my life and how much I leaned on it. And I hurt her. I tried to use that magic against her, to manipulate, to make her forget her anger. I put my love of magic above her, and lost her because of it. I thought I had lost her forever. And now, thanks to Warren, just when she was mine again, my forever and always, she is out of reach, never coming back.
No, I have to think about something else. I can't let the anger come back. I can't afford to be consumed again. Sighing, I stand, and take the first outfit out of the closet. The dress she wore that last day before our big fight. An almost perfect day, both of us wrapped up in each other, hardly noticing anyone else, even the demon threatening to turn the world into an eternal musical. It would have been perfect, except my lie… pressing down on me. She found out of course, that I tried to steal her memory away. All I wanted was to keep her mine forever, but I wanted the magic just as much, if I'm honest, at times, I wanted it more.
I move on to the statue that looks just like Ms. Kitty Fantastico. Our dear cat. One of the first signs of the permanence of our relationship, a dear cat to raise together. Her death left Tara crying for days. I tried to console her. We couldn't even consider another cat for a while. But children… after Buffy came back and took over raising Dawn, the idea of kids definitely came up. She would be a beautiful mother. So kind and caring, able to listen for hours, and give just the right advice. All of this though, it's gone. No more future. No more Ms. Kitty Fantastico. No more Tara. No more joy in this world.
