~ Chapter Two – From the Sphere of our Sorrow~
The months following Audrey's death passed in a blur of disconnected memories for Tara.
It was Audrey's funeral. Tara stood in the midst of her own friends and family, but she had never felt more alone. Even the weight of Faith's arm, wrapped firmly around her shoulders, felt as though it was oppressive. On the opposite side of the church Audrey's family sat stiffly in their pews. She was forced to meet their accusing stares throughout the service, and then suffer their hollow condolences at the gathering following the funeral. Throughout the whole affair she felt as though people were talking about her behind her back. Just looking at the expressions on their faces was enough to hint at what they were thinking. She was the lesbian that corrupted their beloved daughter. If it wasn't for her influence, Audrey would have been happily married with a family. Regardless of whether or not they thought such things, it drove Tara to distraction just imaging it. It was all she could do to get away from those people and go home. She wanted nothing more than to grieve alone.
Tara woke feeling as though something was choking her. However when she sat up in bed and flicked the lamp on, she found herself alone in the room. She turned and stared across at the empty expanse of bed next to her. Unable to bring herself to turn the light off, she lay back down with it still on. She stretched her arm out into the empty space next to her as though, if she stretched far enough, she would feel Audrey there lying next to her.
Tara lay wrapped in a blanket on the couch. She listened to Oprah's familiar and reassuring voice drone from within the TV. "Wow, great to see you…great to see you both…so Mary, were there times when you just wanted to say I've had enough and give up?" Tara sighed and fumbled for the remote to turn the TV off. She couldn't find it anywhere and simply gave up. Oprah continued to drag Mary's life story out of her.
A piercing sound interrupted her nap. Tara jerked up to find that the phone was ringing. She let it ring until it switched over to the answering machine. The sound of Faith's concerned voice reached her ears. "Hi girl, it's me. I haven't heard from you in a while, too long in fact. I'm really worried about you. Call me back and we could do coffee, or maybe even catch a movie. I bet you haven't been out of the apartment, just sitting around all day watching Oprah. Anyway, I love you. Call me." The phone clicked and Faith's voice was gone. Tara rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
Thoroughly annoyed by Tara's repeated refusals to see her, Faith had decided to take matters into her own hands. She waited outside the blonde's apartment building until she saw someone mildly familiar and asked to tag along. It was just her luck that the one person she did happen to see was Pete, Tara's rather creepy immediate next-door neighbour. The guy always seemed to talk directly at her breasts. Nevertheless, any route to Tara was one she had to take. After enduring Pete's stares throughout the lift ride, she rapped loudly on the door to Tara's apartment. Upon receiving no answer, she tried her luck with the handle. The door was unlocked and swung inwards with a slight creak. No light greeted her from within. The heavy curtains were drawn even though it was the middle of the afternoon and the winter sun was shining outside. She waited a minute for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Eventually she spied the top of Tara's head peeking over the back of the couch. With a small sigh, Faith invited herself in and crossed the polished wooden floors. She looked down to find Tara curled up with her arms wrapped around a pillow and a blanket drawn up to cover her legs.
Faith snatched the pillow away. "Tara Maclay, what the hell do you think you're doing by ignoring your phone calls? I had to follow Pete into the building, and you know how creepy he is!"
"Sorry," Tara mumbled. "Guess I haven't felt like company. I just need a little time to myself."
"It's been over four months!"
"Is there suppose to be a prescribed time limit for grieving?" Tara fired back, pulling the blanket over her head so that her voice was muffled. "It's been four months so now I have to pick myself up and get on with my life?"
Faith bit her lip. She hadn't realised Tara's wounds would still be so raw. She lowered herself down over the back of the sofa so she could draw Tara into a warm embrace. For a few moments she hugged her best friend silly, tightening her muscular forearms around her too-thin shoulders. When she straightened, she looked around the apartment. For the first time since she had entered, noticed how bare it was. It didn't take her long however to realise exactly what was missing. Everything that had belonged to Audrey was gone.
"Where's all her stuff?" Faith asked offhandedly. She deliberately avoided using Audrey's name, and tried to keep her voice as casual as possible to mask the difficulties inherent in asking such a question.
Tara glanced around her living room. She suddenly frowned, as though only just realising it was all missing. After a few moments she shrugged, apparently unconcerned, as she replied, "The Kents came by a week after the funeral and picked it all up."
"Those sanctimonious arseholes!" Faith growled at their complete lack of tact and anything approaching decency.
"Actually, it was rather a blessing, "Tara admitted. "It saved me sorting through everything. I mean really, how do you prise apart two lives that have been together for seven years?"
Having never been relationship that lasted seven months let alone seven years, Faith had no acceptable answer. She caught the note of bitterness in Tara's voice and changed the subject. "You want a coffee?"
"Sure," Tara whispered in reply. As she listened to Faith's footsteps, she tried to remember the last time she had a coffee. Do I even drink coffee?
"My god, Tara. There's nothing in your fridge except condiments and a bottle of milk that has developed its own ecosystem!" Faith exclaimed. She emerged from Tara's fridge with a wrinkled nose.
Tara used the back of the sofa as leverage to pull herself up into a sitting position. She peered over to see Faith standing with her hands on her hips. Her friend was clearly disappointed at the lack of attention she had been paying to her own well being. It was true enough. Tara remembered eating a stale bagel the previous afternoon but, other than that, she could not remember anything that had passed her lips. She supposed she had to have been eating and drinking, otherwise she would obviously be dead. However, this was as far as rational thought went.
"You need to get out of the house and feel like a woman again instead of a zombie who sits in the dark all day and watches TV," Faith said in a determined voice.
"I don't watch TV all day," Tara protested. She glanced down and realised the remote was lying in her lap.
"You don't?" Faith arched an eyebrow. "Okay, what was Oprah talking about yesterday?"
"Husbands who love their dogs more than their wives," Tara replied promptly.
Faith continued, "And the day before that?"
Tara barely had to think for a second before she answered, "Help, I'm too fat to see my feet." No sooner had the words left her lips than she succeeded in realising just how sad her life currently was. She sighed and swung her legs over the side of the couch. As the blanket slipped off her lap she stared down at her dancing penguin pyjamas. Her feet were snugly enclosed in a pair of thick pink socks knitted by her nana. When she looked up Faith was standing in front of her holding a steaming cup.
Tara accepted it gratefully and sniffed the herbal tea. It was St John's Wort, her favourite. However, just as she was getting used to enjoying having someone else in the apartment, Faith made a sudden announcement that gave her goosebumps.
"You and I should go out Saturday night. It would do you a world of good to, you know, actually see people!"
Tara coughed on a mouthful of tea so violently she had to set the mug down. "Faith, there is no way in hell I am going to be seen in public. My skin is awful, and I won't be able to fit into anything in my wardrobe after doing nothing but lie on the couch for months. My arse is the size of a bus!"
"Puh-lease, T!" Faith snapped playfully. "You haven't had a zit since you were sixteen, and your arse is almost fine enough to turn me gay!"
After emitting a small sigh, Tara found herself smiling at her best friend. She'd been so busy feeling sorry for herself these past months that she didn't realise just how much she needed someone else in her life. Faith had a look of fierce determination on her face and she knew that, short of being struck down by illness, there was no way she was getting out of a Saturday night in town. A small part of her was almost beginning to enjoy the thought.
That was until she realised that Faith would want to dance, and she couldn't dance to save herself.
Although it wasn't exactly one of the world's most well known nightspots, Courtney Place was nevertheless teeming with life on any given Saturday night. The footpaths thronged with scantily clad young women teetering along on their three-inch heels. They were preyed upon by guys drenched in cologne, with hair arranged with copious amounts of wax. Just about everyone was ordinarily drunk or well on his or her way to being drunk.
The night was still young and the hopeless drunks yet to come when two young people, a girl and a guy, joined an already long line outside one particular club. Above the door flashed a pink neon sign which clearly spelt out its name, Imerst. The young woman, a redhead with her hair done up in curls, turned to the guy at her side with a confused expression on her face.
"Xander, you hate Imerst!" She lifted her gaze to the sign above the door. "I heard you say quote 'it's full of queens and dykes' unquote."
"True," Xander Harris replied with a succinct nod. His perfectly arranged hair did not move a whisker with the movement. "I did say that."
"It's a gay bar!" his friend announced loudly, causing several other patrons to lift their eyebrows at the unexpected exclamation. "You don't do gay bars!"
"You know my rule too well, Will." He grinned and reached out to ruffle her hair.
Willow Rosenberg danced away from her best friend's annoying fingers before he could ruin her carefully arrange coiffure. "Yeah, yeah, straight guys only."
"Don't knock it. It's ten times more fun than your no straight girls policy," Xander retorted. He squeezed her arm gently. "I'm only doing this for you. Who's the bestest friend in the whole, wide world?"
"You are," Willow replied, reaching up on her tip-toes to receive a kiss on her cheek. She stepped back with a wide grin. "Just count your lucky stars I'm not straight though or I'd be stealing all of your man candy!"
"Also true. Although it would be interesting to see which one of us has the most pulling power," Xander suggested thoughtfully as the line moved forward a few paces.
Willow immediately let out a mocking snort. "C'mon, you're so gay the only thing you could do to a girl is criticise her sense of style!"
"Do I have a sign on my arse?" Xander grinned, turning to inspect his leather clad rear, hardly bothered by Willow's assessment of his sexuality. He was well and truly out and proud.
Willow laughed. "Practically! Speaking of arses, we've been standing a few meters back from the most gorgeous arse I've seen all year and your gayness has been made blatantly obviously by the fact that every other person in this line is staring but you."
"Trust you to find the talent before we've even set foot in the fucking club, Will," Xander commented as he gave his best friend a playful punch on the arm. "Point me in the direction of the aforementioned arse!"
"Blonde…leather pants...need I say more?"
Willow sighed lustily as she blatantly pointed out a young woman wearing a pair of black leather pants that clung to every slight curve of her lithe buttocks and legs. She wore a thin, blue singlet that exposed generous amounts of her pale skin. Willow's fingers twitched almost involuntarily as she imagined whether the skin was really as silky smooth as it looked.
When the blonde and her friend disappeared inside Imerst, Willow was surprised to feel a palpable sense of loss. It was all she could do to resist jumping the queue in order to be able to get up, close and personal with her just a little bit sooner.
"I really don't think I should." Tara shook her head stubbornly as Faith pressed a generously sized cocktail into her hand.
"It's a kamikaze," Faith explained. She took an enthusiastic sip of her own green-coloured concoction.
"That really doesn't sound safe." Tara sipped the sour drink and made a face as it burned her throat.
Faith was already scanning the floor with a small smile on her face as her eyes drifted over the sweaty, half-naked bodies gyrating to the fast beat.
"This is ridiculous," Tara said. She ran a hand awkwardly over the leather that clung to her thighs. "How on earth did I let you talk me into wearing these, or even coming here for that matter?"
"You look gorgeous, Tara. Although I wouldn't advise having to go to the bathroom any time soon…unless you have someone to help get back into them." Faith looked at Tara with a glint in her eyes. "Or unless you have someone to help you get out of them."
Tara flushed bright red and took another sip of her drink even as Faith knocked back what remained of hers in one long gulp. She couldn't help but feel guilty that she was even here to start with. It had been barely four months since Audrey had been killed. Although her girlfriend had turned out to be a cheating skank, she was still dead and deserved a decent amount of respect.
"Damn, that is one fine lookin' piece of meat!" Faith's low, enthusiastic growl interrupted Tara's worried thoughts. "Gay though…pity. Girl next to him is pretty cute. Don't you agree, T?"
"Hmm?" Tara murmured in an effort to be enthusiastic. She made a half-hearted attempt to peer through the crowd in the general direction of Faith's nod.
"Redhead, wearing the belt that wishes it was a skirt," Faith elaborated.
Tara finally found the objects of Faith's attention. A good looking young guy who was just as obviously gay as Faith had thought and a slight, young redhead who was indeed wearing a skirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs. She was also wearing a top that seemed to defy gravity in staying up. The redhead was undoubtedly hot. In fact, Tara felt a slight thrill in just looking at her, a thrill that was normally reserved for the Angelina Jolie poster she kept hidden in her wardrobe. Too hot to be interested in little old you, Tara, she thought to herself with a sigh of regret. Even if I was looking to pick someone up…which I most certainly am not.
"C'mon T. We're wasting the night standing on the sideline!" Faith grabbed her hand in an attempt to pull her towards the dance floor.
"No way!" Tara protested. "I'm going to need at least one more drink before I let you drag me out there!"
"Easily done." Faith grinned, and before Tara could stop her she had flagged down the nearest bartender with a decisive wave of her arm.
Tara drained the rest of her cocktail in one deep gulp that left her gasping slightly. She then tried to find the petite redhead again but she and her friend had moved. By the time Faith handed her another drink, she'd still not managed to find her. Perhaps they've left already, she thought, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. It was hardly surprising, even Tara had to admit the talent at Imerst was uncharacteristically disappointing for a Saturday night. She downed the drink quickly to fortify herself for the humiliation to come. She then let Faith lead her out onto the dance floor. Her friend expertly pushed her way through the tightly packed throng. It was as though the crowd were parting for her and she loved every second of it. Faith chose on a spot near the DJ and settled into a rhythm all of her own. Her hips gyrated wildly in an invitation for those watching to look and touch if they dared. Every lesbian on the floor wanted her and the guys wondered if they were in danger of turning straight.
Standing within Faith's immediate vicinity, Tara felt like the frumpy hanger on. Her limbs felt as though they were made of lead, even as she gamely tried to find her own rhythm somewhere. Sadly lacking in both talent and enthusiasm Tara just stood and moved from one foot to the other, looking as though she wished she were somewhere else.
In the midst of enjoying the appreciative whistles and catcalls that were being thrown her way, Faith glanced up to see Tara standing like a lump. As she let out a sigh of exasperation she caught sight of the redhead she had seen earlier standing with a clear view of Tara. She also caught the all too obvious expression in her eyes. She smirked and then looked back to Tara who was still dancing as though she was in traction. There was no way her friend was going to hold the redhead's attention unless she did something about it. Without warning Tara, Faith laid her hand gently on her waist and drew her in close to her gyrating body.
"Whoa! Am I missing something?" Tara hissed in an alarmed voice as Faith continued to draw her in until they were grinding against one another, pelvis to pelvis. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw the mischievous gleam in Faith's eyes. "Have you suddenly decided to change teams?"
Faith grinned. "If I did, you'd be in trouble!" She glanced up to see the redhead looking on with interest. "But no, I'm just helping you attract a little attention!"
"I don't want to attract any attention!" Tara spluttered. She was beginning to feel unnerved at the sensations stirring in her gut. She breathed a discreet sigh of relief when Faith stepped away and the disturbing contact ceased.
"I'm going to the bathroom," Faith announced. "You'll be okay by yourself for a few minutes?"
"No!" she protested with horror. She desperately tried to hold onto Faith before she could move away and leave her standing alone.
Faith merely winked over her shoulder as she moved off into the crowd. She left Tara standing, well and truly alone, in the middle of the dance floor. In an effort to at least have something in her hands, Tara snatched a shot glass from a passing tray and downed it in one swift gulp. When that too was finished she found she no longer minded dancing alone. In fact, she realised she wasn't quite as bad at dancing as she had first thought.
Tara closed her eyes as she swayed in time with the beat, enjoying the feel of leather beneath her hands as she touched her thighs. Everything outside of the club, or even outside of the dance floor, mattered no longer.
She was unaware of everything save the rhythm of the music. That was until she felt a pair of hands slide around her waist and draw her gently backwards. Tara felt a firm pair of tits snug against her back. One hand drifted lower until it was resting below the top of her leather pants. Faith was definitely getting a little too close for comfort.
"Um, Faith…"
She was interrupted by a soft, sensual voice whispering in her ear, "Faith's gone…you're all mine now."