Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. If I did Terra/Aqualad would be total canon and I'd have so much money (probably) that I wouldn't know what to do with myself.
Jar of Hearts
Chapter Eight
Self-help books all lie. I know that there are some people out there that treat those things like the bible, the holy grail of literature, but whenever I see someone reading them I laugh. Everyone that reads those things are lying to themselves.
No one really wants to improve. We think that we're absolutely perfect, that we're all so wonderful. At least until life slaps us in the face, hard. This doesn't happen often enough to people, I think.
Fact of Life: Self improvement stops at potty training.
:-:
It's easy to say that I am not having a good day. My head throbs, my knee aches, and all of my books for some reason have decided to fall out the bottom of my backpack. I had known for a while that I needed a new one, I'd had this one since tenth grade and it had seen quite a few sights in its short life, but when my mother mentioned something about it I had automatically gotten stubborn and had refused to get a new one.
I was now having to bend down and make sure that I get every last stinking thing and put them into my arms, my knee screaming at me about moving it too fast.
I have to straighten up again, making sure that my knee is stable enough to walk, and I then begin the long trek out to my car. "Tara!" I hear a recognizable voice, and I groan. Yet another way to make my day even more abso-fucking-lutely fantastic. Not.
It's Garth. Doesn't he have swim practice or something; last time I heard he'd gotten so good at swimming that he doesn't have a life without it. I try, and fail, to start walking faster but my damn knee suddenly increased my age by sixty years and the average snail has started to beat me in long distance races.
Is it even necessary to say that Garth caught up to me? "Hey, do you want me to carry your books?" he asks, voice chipper.
"Gee wilickers," I respond brightly, giving him a five hundred watt smile that's so obviously fake that he's probably surprised that it's not painted on, "Sure I do, but this isn't the fifties, the feminist movement is past buckeroo. Chivalry is not required here." My fifties slang wasn't exactly up to snuff, but I hoped that that was okay.
"How about manners. Are they required?" Without speaking Garth takes the majority of books out of my hands.
I make a sound of protest in my throat but he chooses to ignore that. "Definitely not. If they were I would have already been out on the street, fending for myself and living off of the fine selection of delacacies in the closest dumpster."
Garth smiles at me, a smile that would make any other girl's heart race. It's too bad he's too young for me, and that he did what he did. What he knows he did, but still he chooses to ignore that and tries to pretend that everything's so hunky dory even when it so isn't.
But he's always been like that, even when he was younger. But he could never lie to me, and he still can't.
"Well, that's too bad, because I'm going to help you anyway." Garth pauses as we get to my car and I open the door and throw all of my binders and folders and textbooks into the passenger seat, just in case Garth's getting any bright ideas. I take the ones out of his hands and throw them in there too, and my car is now so messy that my mother's probably going to blow a gasket if she looks in there. At least I can blame it on Garth, she won't get mad then.
"There, you helped me. Your damsel in distress quota filled?" Garth just smiles at me again, but he doesn't say anything. "What?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. I'm almost proud of myself that I've kept it together this long, if he was anyone else I would have told him to scram. But I really did need help, not that I would ever admit that in a million years.
"You're just really funny, Tara. You always have been," he says, still smiling.
"Well, isn't that fabulous," I mutter, getting into my car but leaving my door open so that I could still talk to him. "Don't you have some kind of practice or something?"
"No, Arthur gave me the day off because my family's having dinner at your place. Is Brion going to be there?"
Brion wasn't going to be there, thank God. That's the one good thing in this otherwise shitty day, Brion wasn't able to come. His girlfriend probably had some kind of art show or something. I shake my head and start my car, trying to be subtle about the fact that I don't want to talk to him, if you count revving your engine as subtle.
Garth looked amused, as always. I bet if I ran him over he wouldn't look so amused all the time. He probably wouldn't be able to move his face at all...
"Well, I see you've got places to go. I'll leave you alone now."
"Can you promise to leave me alone forever?" I asked, just saying the first thing that pops out of my mouth. His smile gets wider at that.
"Nope," he says. I roll my eyes as I drive off.
:-:
When I get home my mother is freaking out. Of course, Mom always freaks out right before we have company, but then as soon as they get here she calms down and becomes the perfect hostess, just like always.
"Tara!" she screeches at me, curlers still in her hair and a can of hair spray in her hand. She's probably been wandering around the house like that all day. "Go get dressed! It's nearly five o' clock."
"Mom, what time's dinner?"
That makes her pause. "It's at seven." The air suddenly deflates out of her like a balloon and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. "Oh never mind but make sure that you're ready by at least six, they'll be getting here at six thirty!"
"Yes ma'am." I salute my mother but by the time that I do her back's already to me and the gesture is lost on her. I just shrug to myself and trudge up the stairs to my room where I frown because I have to pick up all the dirty clothes on the floor.
Once I do that I decide to get ready, which basically means I have to brush my hair, put on some more mascara, and a decent shirt since my jeans are already dark enough to pass as 'dressy'. I'm ready in fifteen minutes and I get a text message from Kole as soon as I'm ready.
Good luck tonight! :) it reads. Kole's always been the type of texter that likes to use proper grammar, no matter how long in takes her. I think that's just because she's naturally perfect at everything. I told her about the dinner tonight, and even though she doesn't understand why it's such a big deal that Garth's coming to dinner she's still supporting me. The things friends do for each other.
Thx, I text back and then shut my phone off. I'm left wondering what I'm going to do for the thirty minutes that I have left before our guests get here before I hear my mom's voice calling my name from downstairs.
"Look what I found," she tells me, holding out some sort of book to me. I take it from her slowly, unsure of what it could possibly be until I see the cover. Garth & Terra it reads in sticker letters. "It's pictures of you two. Isn't it wonderful that I just found this?" I don't say anything but I look up and I can tell that she's lying. She probably has planned this; she's probably had this in her room the entire time. She just wants Garth and I to have a common ground again, she wants for us to spark memories and see how things used to be.
Well newsflash, mother, I'm not the girl I used to be.
"Great. Thanks." The smile I offer her is tight and she pats my cheek twice before moving on. Sighing I put the book in the middle of the coffee table so that the mothers can ooh and ah over it and it's contents. They most likely put it together, but I don't really remember that.
My stepdad, Bob, comes in the room and smiles at me. "Ready for this?" He knows how much I despise the formal dinners that my mother likes to throw. Of course his business meetings aren't much better, because they're bigger and the clothes that you have to wear are ridiculously formal. I have a gown or two in my closet for those things.
"As I'll ever be," I say, giving the standard answer. We both jump when the doorbell rings, but then we both laugh at ourselves. My mother is suddenly in the room, her heels clacking on the hardwood floors.
"Well? Open the door, Tara!" Of course I have to be the one to open the door. Pulling in a deep breath I make the muscles in my face form a smile and hope to God that the doorknob slices my hand open when I touch it. It doesn't, because that's just my luck, and I see all of them standing in the door way.
Garth's wearing some kind of button down shirt and khakis, his hair looking like it's been combed. Berra's wearing a tight dress and Garth's stepfather is wearing the same thing that Garth is, except with a sport coat. Well, at least everyone's all spiffy.
We all exchange the obligatory hugs and compliments except for Garth and I, who just eye each other warily. I'm sadly underdressed, or at least that's what it feels like when I look at everyone else. I'm imagining how they'd all react if I'd take off my shirt right here and now in the pretense on putting on a new one when my mother interrupts my thoughts. "Honey, why don't you show Garth around? I'm sure Garth would like to see the house!"
"Mom," I say, sounding like a very whiney teenager. I don't care. "No he doesn't. He's not an interior designer."
But Garth has to intervene, and quickly, ever the little manners instructor. "Yes I would. I'd be honored if you'd show me the house, Tara." His eyes are laughing at me. I'll bet if I poked them out they'd stop laughing.
I really, really needed to stop with these violent fantasies.
"Then it'd be my pleasure," I simpered. I could play this game too, and well. I started walking toward the first hallway and Garth followed, both of us leaving the adults in the foyer. "Well, this is Mom and Bob's bedroom," I said, gesturing my hand towards one of the rooms. "This is a bathroom. The parlor. Bob's home office. The bathroom." When I finished the ground floor Garth was still looking at me expectantly. "What?" I demanded.
"Aren't you going to show me your room?"
"Oh for the love of Pete," I grumbled, aware of the fact that my mother was still watching us. "Come on. It's upstairs." I trudged up the stairs, my stalker following, and I opened the door wide, suddenly upset that I had picked up my dirty laundry. It would have done Garth a world of good to see one of my bras on the floor. Or at least it would make him want to get out of my business.
He stepped in and I followed him, sitting on my bed. He was examining my shelves as though they were an abstract painting in an art museum. I wondered what his problem was. "What's with all the rap music?"
"What do you mean?"
Garth shrugged. "It's the only kind of music that you have up here. Most girls like bands with love songs, that sort of thing. These singers aren't exactly very romantic."
"Yeah, well, they don't have to be. They tell the truth in their songs."
"What do you mean, the truth? That all you need is sex, drugs, and music?"
"No, that all anyone's every looking for is a good romp between the sheets. All those love songs? They don't even mention the fact that basically that's what everyone's looking for in a relationship. They're all just words."
Garth looked at me as if he was seeing me in a whole new light or something, and then he shook his head. "Do you really believe that?" he asked me. I nodded, hoping that he'd leave me alone. "That's sad." He turned back to my shelves, probably examining the decor now that he had already critizied my taste of music, the bastard. "You have a lot of pictures of you and Kole up here."
"Only three," I said, looking at what he was talking about. There was one picture of us, in a frame that Kole gave me, the two of us are laughing in a way that doesn't make our faces look attractive and my arm is around her neck. There are two more, but that's my favorite picture of us. It reminds me, sometimes, that I'm not completely and totally alone.
There's a pause in the conversation, like there often is with us. We aren't completely comfortable around each other yet, unless that's just all me. It probably is all me. After all, everything is my fault.
"You know, I'm kind of surprised that they haven't checked on us yet," Garth suddenly says, a smile on his face. He thinks that he's making a joke, that he's being funny. I can make that smile turn upside down like that.
"Well, my mother would probably be ecstatic if I was fucking you right now," I say crudely. I have to bite down on my cheek, hard, to keep from laughing at the way that his eyes widen.
He quickly recovers his composure, though, because that's just what he does. Ever the cool and collected Garth Cresta. "Why do you say that?"
I make myself shrug carelessly, as if what I was saying didn't really matter. As if it was no big deal. "Because you're my age." I can see what that does to him, in his eyes. He knows what I'm referring to, he definitely knows.
All of a sudden he looks frustrated and he runs his hand through his hair hard enough that I'm surprised chunks of his scalp don't go flying everywhere. "Why do you do this, Terra? Why do you say things like that that you know will confuse me. Why do you hate me so much? Why?"
I cannot believe that he's honestly asking me that question. He doesn't know. He really and truly doesn't understand, I can see that in his eyes. I stand up and walk toward him, every word I take a step closer until I'm right in front of him. "It's not what you did, Garth. It's what you didn't do."
"What is that even supposed to mean?"
I cross my arms across my chest to seem intimidating when really I'm hugging myself, trying to keep it all together. I cannot believe him. I really, really can't believe him. "You left me. You left me alone here."
"I was nine years old!" he protests. "I had to go with my parents. I didn't want to. It's not like I walked out on you. I had to."
"Well maybe you had to leave, but you didn't have to stop talking to me! You didn't have to lose contact with me."
"I sent you letters. I did."
"Yeah, the first two years. The last letter I ever got from you, I was twelve years old. It was half a page on notebook paper. I wrote you back and then... nothing." I make a motion with my hands to make my point. "Absolutely nothing."
For the first time since he moved back he looks... ashamed. "I was just a kid, I didn't know any better. Some of my friends made fun of me when they knew that I was writing to a girl so I just... stopped. I'm sorry for being stupid."
"You know, that would have been okay with me if you hadn't done one other thing."
"What else could I have done?"
"Remember four years ago? We were fourteen." I can see in his face that he's still confused so I continue on in my story.
That had been just after that thing with Mr. Wilson had happened. I had stopped going to school and started just staying in bed, crying. I had been so horribly pathetic and I knew it. One day I just wanted to die so I had written my mother a note and told her that I was going to kill myself.
I was going to do it too. There was a bridge a couple of miles from my house and I had walked the whole way over there. But when I looked at the dirty water below I say nothing. I saw myself. I had looked up one last time, to see the sky one last time, and I suddenly realized that it was a sunny day. And then I hadn't wanted to do it anymore.
I sat down on the edge and had wrapped my arms around my legs and just sat there, looking at the sky. That's where my mother had found me with Bob, tears streaming down her face and mine. She had hugged me and brought me back into the car.
The very first thing that she had done was called Berra all the way over in Singapore, even though our time zones were radically different. I had spoken for the first time that day when I realized what she was doing. "Can Garth come too?" I had asked. I had wanted to see him, had wanted to see my best friend. He was the only person that didn't know what I had done. I wanted to remember with him what we were like when we were younger. I had wanted him to be with me.
My mother had looked at me like I was an alien when she realized that I had spoken, and then she relayed my question to Berra who had said that she would work on it. I had sat back in my seat, satisfied, and I waited. And waited. Soon Berra came but she did not bring her son. I listened to them talking about it later because sound traveled in the house those days. Garth didn't want to come and see me. Not he couldn't, he didn't want to.
I had hated him ever since. I wasn't ready to let that go, even when he was standing right in front of me.
But I didn't tell him any of that. Instead I just said, "Your mom came to visit. Remember? She came to visit and you didn't and that's why."
"I was a stupid fifteen year old boy then! I didn't want to deal with it, I didn't want to know that I had a suicidal best friend. But don't worry I paid for that. Karma, it's not pleasant." He grimaced then and I wondered if this had something to with what our mothers were talking about the other day.
"Yeah, well, you know those letters? The ones that you wrote to me? I burned them, all of them. I didn't want anything to be in my life that reminded me of you. And then you just had to come back. I was better off without you."
He just stares at me then and I stare back. He looks part horrified and part confused. He probably thinks that I'm being melodramatic, that I'm the stupidest person in the whole universe. Good, I'm glad he does. Now maybe he'll leave me the hell alone and he'll never talk to me again. I do so hope that's the case.
We just stand and look at each other until my mother calls us down for dinner. I take a deep breath and copy and paste a smile on my face. Garth still looks dazed as he makes his way to his seat, the one next to mine because my mother's that subtle.
She pulls me aside just before we eat. "I'm glad to see that you and Garth are getting on so well."
My face hurts as I smile back at her. "Me too."
Dinner goes by in a blur of nothing. I talk when spoken too, I say the right things at the right time, but there's no where that I wouldn't rather be. I would rather do anything else than to sit next to him.
Throughout the whole dinner Garth's quiet, well quieter than usual, but no one notices except me, and that's probably because I know why he's acting like he is. He goes through all the motions flawlessly, even better than me, but I can tell that he's not all there.
But I've always been able to tell things like that about him. That's what happens when you're with someone since you were born.
At least, until your not.
We all send them off with a smile and then I go and clear off the table, letting my mother and Bob wash and dry the dishes.
When I go upstairs I look underneath my bed until I find a box, the smooth cherry wood that almost burns underneath my hands. I know that it's just my imagination, though.
Fact of Life: Shame always burns.
I open the box with shaking hands and take out the papers in it and smooth them out, getting rid of all the creases and wrinkles that they've gotten from rereadings over the years. I look at the childish handwriting and then at the fact that at the end of all of them there's the same closing.
Bye, Garth.
A/N: I know some of you are like that's what she's been mad about this whole time? Really? But yeah, it is. Tara's prone to freaking out, remember. I mean, on the show doesn't she go all physco crazy over something that wasn't even Beast Boy's fault? She overreacts BIG TIME. Because that's just how she is. So she's been mad at Garth for years and years. I think she got most of it off her chest, but it's not all gone. Hopefully it will be, though. :) Also, I totally stole the toilet training line. Free cookies if you know where I stole it from.