Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Two

Anti-Anti-Anti Love Spell

Vermont, the world without shrimp - May 2006

This moment had been a long time coming. A few years ago, Mr Maclay would've assumed Tara's re-emergence into his life was due to her realising he had been right for all those years and she needed him to look after her. But since Donny left, a part of him wondered if he'd been in the wrong. He was, by no means, healed from his abusing past. But there was a spark of willingness to change. When the knocking came upon his door, he thought it was milkman, so he stopped in his tracks when he came face to face with his estranged daughter.

"Tara." He said stoically. Tara bit her lip, but stood her ground, he sounded so angry. But then again, she hadn't heard another tone pass his lips in years.

"Dad." She replied in a kinder tone, but folded her arms. She feet were hip-width apart because she wasn't going to let him push her down. She wasn't going to call him 'daddy' or 'sir.' He was what he was. Her dad.

The grey lines on his face softened as he stepped backwards, ushering her into the house. "Come in," his voice trapped in his throat a little, sounded off and out of place. Tara didn't reply, just passed him with a concerned crease in her brow.

Willow awkwardly squeezed past him with a shy wave and a "hi." Mr Maclay simply smiled and closed the door behind them. The house was old, but not old for them. They'd moved in shortly after Tara's mother died in '97. Tara still recognised everything about it, being here was more like walking through her mind than any reality. The walls were still a dirty off-white, magnolia the painter had called it, but now there was a yellowish tinge to the paintwork. Probably the result of his smoking habit, and his denial of addiction, his refusal to go outside for a cigarette. His fingernails said as much, the yellowish tinge continued there.

Tara followed the hall into the kitchen where her mother's art still hung. Willow trees and cherry blossoms and vines shone in delicate watercolour, a little sun-bleached but otherwise untouched. These had been here when she left, it'd taken every ounce of her willpower not to take one down with her when she went. But she couldn't have risked it, he'd have known if something that important had disappeared. And she wanted to be long gone by the time he found out. Willow refrained from being surprised there was something beautiful here. Tara had to come from somewhere.

Her dad stood by the kettle and boiled the water. Tara winced when the whistle began to blow, a sound that once frightened her. Tara leaned against the counter and smiled weakly at Willow, who reassured her with her mind, doing well love. Mr Maclay interrupted with his raspy voice once again, "so Tara, where have you been keeping yourself? I heard about your little town - the explosion? Can't have been easy for you." He sounded genuinely interested for the first time in her life. It felt fake though, like he was keeping up appearances before something truly awful was revealed.

But she conceded, "it's okay. I mean, y-yeah there was the explosion. But we made do. We-we um had to move to England for a while, but we're in San Francisco now." He handed her and Willow a mug of tea each, Tara's hands wrapped around it, soaking in the warmth. He didn't ask about the journey. But he did ask about Willow, once he saw their fingers linked, touched always kept between them as a means of protection.

"What's this?" He asked with a lilt to his voice, the ends of his words reaching upwards. He pointed towards them and Tara almost gasped, she hadn't meant to- this wasn't the reason she was here. She hadn't come to tell him about Willow. Did she even want to? She didn't want to drag Willow into it. She hesitated before answering, something her father picked up on, "no no, I just meant- I don't care how you are spending your time, I obviously don't have any control over your life anymore. Tara I-I just want to know you, clearly this-" he gestured towards Willow, "is important to you."

Tara stood away from the counter, her mug of now cooling tea was left on the side. She turned around to Willow before replying, "can you leave us for a minute please Will, go um look through the house or go back to the car, it doesn't matter." She was flustered now, all her words jumbling around, "I'm sorry, I-I love you, just please, go." Willow nodded, she understood. This wasn't a 'back off' situation, it was 'I need some space.' And she wanted Tara to have anything she wanted right now, so she walked back into the hall. Exploring this house might give her some answers, plus she had an inkling to see what Tara's old room looked like.

Tara turned back to her dad fiercely. "I can't do this okay, I can't be here with you like this."

"Tara, I don't understand, what did I do wrong?" He replied, standing his own ground but facing her with kinder eyes than she'd ever seen.

"This," she pointed towards all of him. "You being, this. You just being nice. I came here to try and get you to apologise, to make sure that you understood what you did to me. But you're being this thing, you've changed you're being nice." She put her hands over her face and let out a frustrated yell. Then she started to cry. She didn't cry silently anymore, she'd stopped hiding her emotions and now everything was just coming out without her control.

Her dad stepped forward, as if to comfort her, "Tara- I'm sorry." He said. That stumped her. She hadn't expected it to come out of his mouth so blase like that. This wasn't going the way she planned it at all.

She lifted her head up and stared at him for a second, like her confidence just melted away the moment she saw him. "Y-you're what?"

"I'm sorry sweetie. For the way I acted, for everything really. I know it doesn't make up for anything I did. But your brother leaving-"

"Donny left?" Tara countered, Mr Maclay nodded sadly.

"He went, oh must've been a few years ago now. He said he couldn't stand it anymore, we had a row. I told him to get out of the house. He was standing up for you, saying that you were right to leave because of how awful it was here. I didn't believe him at first, I was so angry Tara." Tara was still too stunned to speak, "everything made me angry because I thought everything was going fine and then you're mother-"

Tara's tears came on thicker now, "you killed her," she said under her breath. The way she'd always believed it, even if he hadn't directly been the one to end her life, he drove her to it. "Everything you did killed her." Bitterness and bravery was baring through her teeth now. They were gritted and angry, but she was holding her nerve. She couldn't let anyone else down.

Mr Maclay looked down at his hands, both of them were thinking about the bruises those hands had caused. His belt buckle too, those square marks, distinctive. Like he wanted everyone else to know what he'd used. "You don't get to bring her up." Tara said angrily, tears still streaming down her face. She hoped Willow had gone outside, she didn't want her wandering around the house and seeing the damage.

"I had no control when she died, it changed me Tara, it changed all of us. I was drinking, it was out of control and then you left and Donny and me had to pick up the pieces, Beth helped a lot. But it was a hole, there was just nothing left to hope for anymore. It was Beth's idea to come and find you. Oh god that day-" Mr Maclay cut himself off and sat down in the armchair, Tara followed him into the adjoining living room. The room was cluttered but mostly clean, not like it was when she left.

"You-" she was more shocked that the place was clean than the fact he was talking about the last time he saw her. Where there had once been a blanket of bottles and ash and papers, was now a clearer, more organised space. There was even a tv sitting across from two armchairs. She strolled through the room and put her hand on the back of the chair that used to belong to her mother. It was different from it's partner, more silvery than brown, spells had stopped it from wearing over time. But there were a few frayed edges along the bottom. "Everything's so-" Tara started, her father looked up at her.

"I know." He said, "I've tried my best over the last year, to make everything right. I don't have her-" he winced, "powers, I can't magic anything clean or keep it looking nice, but I did my best."

"You really loved her," Tara said. More for her own benefit than his, like her realisation had been right. That she wasn't wrong to come here. Everything wasn't good, but it was better. "Dad?" She said abruptly, "I don't think I can come back here again," she was realising what she was saying as she said it and it felt big. "I've got what I wanted from you - an apology. Your best. And I don't blame Donny for leaving. But I have a good life now, me and Willow- well I'll spare you the details, but I love her, we're in love. And our friends love and accept us. But I don't want you in my life anymore. I don't want you to have any kind of power over me. I removed that by leaving, and I don't want to see you again. It brings back too much. Things I've moved on from." She sat down on the arm of her mother's chair.

"I understand," Mr Maclay replied, "I never expected you to forgive me Tara, I don't deserve that. But do take your things, anything from the house that's yours or hers," he gestured towards the chair. "you're free to take."

Tara nodded and stood back up, her palms rubbing over her thighs as she did so. "I better go and find Willow."

Willow had started downstairs in the hallway, and in her morbid curiosity and need to understand her girlfriend, she went upstairs. The first room she came across was the master, a double bed, wooden frame and antiquey. She trailed her fingers over the intricate design work in the wood, a leaf and vine pattern was present again, swooping over the top of the frame and down the legs. Against the headboard were pained notches, probably made when a belt was struck violently against it. Willow stared at them for a second too long. Tara had talked about what happened to her, what happened to her mom, what she heard through the walls, but there was something about seeing it here that was completely different. They must've taken the bed with them when they moved.

There were more paintings in here, and a beautiful large canvas bearing a willow tree over a lake. Tara's mom really liked willow trees, huh. Willow thought to herself and let herself smile a little. She stopped for a minute to memorise the painting's intricacies but then she moved on. The next room along was Tara's. Willow could tell because the room was painted entirely in dark blue. All around were various books, pieces of paper strewn over the floor. Dust cluttered the place and Willow coughed a few times upon entry. It was clear no one had been in here in a very long time. It was preserved exactly as Tara had left it when she fled.

Just as Willow was leafing through a few of Tara's own sketches, Tara appeared in the doorway. "Will?" She asked quietly, not quite realising where she was until she saw the look on Willow's face.

"Oh love," she said, seeing the tear tracks trying on her girlfriend's face. She was still holding a piece of canvas paper, a charcoal drawing of Tara's mom.

They packed up a lot of the things in Tara's room, something they hadn't really thought about doing, but Willow insisted after seeing the carnage of the house. Tara ought to have something. Ought to have the things that mattered. In one box was a pendant Tara's mom had given her on her seventeenth birthday, the last one she had seen. Another held her mom's spell book, some of the pages were so worn and tattered they were almost coming out. The silverfish had chewed away a few of the edges but it was mostly okay. As Tara's hands ran over it, she felt the same warmth her mom had always radiated. Tendrils of magic.

The boxes all fit neatly in the trunk of the car, and by the time they closed it Tara was breathing a sigh of relief. It was finally over. She would think over everything and cry later, she knew she would, curled up in Willow's body, her comfort worth more than any trinket. But for now she had to leave, had to finally say goodbye to the house and her dad. And slip through their portal back to San Francisco, she didn't need the journey to prepare her this time. Her mom's memory would never leave her, there was nothing to say goodbye to in that respect. The house had never been hers. She had never been here, this was her dad's prison. A place he tortured himself over his family. Tara didn't need it anymore.