The Maclay family sat at the dinner table that evening. It all looked very nice and traditional, from the outside anyway. Mr. Maclay sat at the head of the table, while Beth and Donnie sat on either side of the rectangle, and finally Tara at the remaining end. This evening they didn't have much choice but to go with leftovers, since Tara wasn't feeling well enough to cook. Or so all they thought. Tara, therefore, had a cup of vegetable soup for her dinner, while everyone else had mashed potatoes, vegetables, biscuits, and various meats.
Beth had been welcomed by the men, which Tara had overheard through her bedroom door as they each arrived at the house. She had listened with pleasure to her cousin's voice as she volunteered to get dinner together for the family. This consisted only of selecting a menu and reheating the plates, and the simple task of baking biscuits, which was so easy that they really could have done it themselves had Beth not been there.
Once she had a chance to step back from it, Tara was actually glad that Beth had arrived, since she filled in easily for Tara in the household help department. This meant that the attention was almost completely diverted away from the witch, so she had simply stayed in her room alone for most of the afternoon and evening, barring a slight interruption by Donnie when he had come home from school. He brought a small stack of folders, one from each of Tara's classes. The office had sent for the classwork and homework the girl had missed from each of her classes, and sent it home with her brother at the end of the day. She looked the contents of the folders over without much regard until Donnie lost interest in watching her like a hawk scouting its next meal, and then set them on her nightstand once he left to talk to cousin Beth.
Now Tara sat uncomfortably at the end of the table, sipping her soup and water alternately as the rest of her family talked. Donnie went over the few standout moments of his day at school when prompted by his father, and Beth updated them all on news from her house. This encompassed everything from her mother's health to the dog's annual visit to the vet's office, in a roundabout narrative. Beth's parents would still be arriving as planned the day before Thanksgiving, and Beth would be going back with them after the holiday. Tara still didn't know exactly why Beth had come ahead of time, because that part of the conversation had been pretty quiet, compared to the boisterous greetings she gave to cousin Donnie and her uncle.
Tara answered all questions she was directly asked, which luckily only included a short round about how she was feeling from her father, who seemed appeased by her vague, stammered answers. Beth went over her plans for going shopping with Tara tomorrow afternoon, if she was feeling well enough, for her birthday gift. Donnie sported a smirk, as if he itched to say something insulting relating to Tara's wardrobe, but thankfully refrained from comment. Mr. Maclay did mention that he thought Beth could provide a good influence on Tara, but didn't add anything else in that direction. In short, they were on their best behavior, which in regards to the young Wiccan was still not very good.
After she finished her soup, Tara quietly asked to be excused from the table. Her father conceded and Tara took her dishes to the sink, then went back to her room, closing the door behind her as if it would keep the tension out. She was tired of being made to feel that she wasn't good enough, that she was supposed to do everything for her father and brother. She refused to accept that all her life would be spent as a servant to the men of her family. She wouldn't stand for it any more. If she thought and spoke for herself and expressed her wish to be independent, she would no longer be a punching bag for those same men who thought she was meant to be subordinate to them forever. She'd had enough. Hopefully, at least this last night would be quiet.
The sun was setting, and Tara sat in the west-facing window seat, watching as the light scattered into every color imaginable. The witch looked on in awe as the blue zenith darkened to a deep indigo, and her eyes traveled slowly down to the horizon, watching as the colors went from a bold blue to a molten yellow-gold to a blazing red. The handful of stratus clouds slowly changed from white edged in golden to pink-lined blue as the sun sank behind the hills. Each color melded seamlessly into the next, until they finally all faded out into the deep navy-indigo hue that most people saw as merely black.
The stars sprang back into visibility one by one, until thousands of sparkling pinpricks of light came into view. Tara watched every second of nature's best light show, enjoying each moment, each different color, and every last star. It was, she noted, a new moon. How appropriate.
And thus the sun went down on what Tara Maclay hoped would be the last day under her father's oppressive presence.