Fighting the impossible (3 page)

“Yes!
We’ll be going soon, but I didn’t want you to miss me throwing the wedding
bouquet and… But obviously you have more important things to do!” Claire was
staring at Tara then at Peter. He chuckled.

“I
think you two need a moment alone. Claire, you look gorgeous! Excuse me,
ladies!” he nodded and walked away.

“Sweet
talker!” muttered Claire. “What’s going on here?” she faced Tara.

“I
have no idea what you’re talking about,” replied innocently Tara. Her best
friend knitted her brows.

“Do
you think that being married today, I went blind and my brain has evaporated? I
thought you can’t stand him till yesterday! I even listened to your fifteen
minutes break down after you first met him. You were furious! And today you just
clung to each other. He was kind of gravitating around you and I can understand
that. But you?! Explain, please!” Claire folded her arms.

“I
can’t,” Tara was studying her fingers, and then slowly lifted her eyes. “Today…has
happened so many things, changes, I’ve changed. But how and why, I can’t tell.”

“Tara
Whyley, it has never happened to you not to know anything, and I haven’t seen
you to make out so shamelessly since high school. Hold on! There is something
about you,” a second, two. “Oh, my God! You’ve had sex!”

Tara
blushed.

“Oh,
God! And it’s true! Tara! How could you, you don’t even know him?”

“Oh,
wait a minute! You don’t know him either. Give him a chance! Never thought you
can be so judgmental,” Tara was getting angrier. “Tom trusts him enough to make
him his best man, why you can’t?”

“Because
I’ve heard one too many stories of crazy parties, booze, women, and Peter was
always there,” retorted Claire.

“You
can’t judge someone by the mistakes he made in his youth. People change. He
makes me feel alive and it’s worth it even for that,” said Tara softly.

Claire
came closer.

“Wait,
it’s not just the sexual attraction. You…. You’re in love with him!” Only she
was able to summarize the hurricane of emotions in Tara’s head in one sentence.

“Why
do you think you know everything? I… I don’t know,” stammered Tara.

“But
I do, because I know you better than you do. Tara…” Claire started.

“Ok,
even if you’re right!” she raised her hands in a sign of truce. “Why do we even
talk about that? You’ll miss the plane.”

“Don’t
think you’ll get away so easily! How can I leave you now in the clutches of
this predator?” Claire was shaking her head.

“But that’s
exactly the place I want to be!” Both women laughed.

“Let’s
go! Well, one chance!” were Claire’s last words.

Then
everything happened very quickly. Claire and Tara found Tom, the newlyweds
headed to the taxi, all the guests gathered to wish them safe travel. Claire
threw the bouquet to the eager ladies; Jessie Clark, a colleague from her
office caught it, there were applauses and laughter. Just before they left, the
bride looked around and finding Tara said in the clamor:

“Be
careful!”

“I
love you too!” Tara mouthed “Have fun!” she shouted over the crowd. Claire blew
her a kiss and was gone.

“Are
you okay?” Peter’s lips were touching the back of her neck. Tara swallowed hard,
trying to fight the stinging tears and turned to face him.

“I
think so.”

He
was kissing her tears away. She continued:

“I
just had a long day, my emotions are heightened, and you’re not helping me
much,” she took a deep breath. “Come on, I know exactly how you can make it up
to me!” her eyes ablaze with passion and impatience.

***

Tara
woke in the morning thanks to the sun rays, playing on her face. She frowned.
Was the night really gone? Her body was a stranger and refused to obey. She
reached out, but the space beside her was empty.

“Peter?!”
she asked in astonishment.

“Right
here!” his reply was instantaneous. He was half naked and carrying a tray with…

“What’s
that?” Tara rubbed her eyes. “Sweets?! This is a healthy way to start the day!”

“We
missed the wedding cake yesterday, so…” he left the tray on the bed beside her.
“But I wasn’t sure exactly what you like, there is much I don’t know about you,
so I’ve ordered everything on the menu,” he smiled kind of shyly. Tara’s eyes
widened, overwhelmed.

“Blueberry
cheesecake, my favorite is blueberry cheesecake!” said Tara laughing then
pulled him closer for a deep and luscious kiss.

Claire proved to be right – Tara was
in love.

Present days

Tara
was staring at her reflection and almost couldn’t recognize herself. In fact,
she hadn’t changed much in the last five years with exception of the fine lines
around her eyes and forehead. But something was gone – the light. She didn’t
like to feel sorry for herself, but here all the barriers, she’d build were
falling slowly and the pain burst in like a tsunami, sweeping her being. But
Tara welcomed it; at least she was feeling again, noticing the smells, sensing
him. One more day and her life would become again a mixture of “musts”, she
would smile, go to work, act. And she was doing it so well that only Claire
knew the truth, knew the real Tara, Tara here and now. Someone knocked on the
door and opened it without waiting for a reply.

“Hey!”
Claire peered in cautiously. “I brought you a bribe! It’s your favorite –
blueberry cheesecake! I pinched it at dinner after you didn’t come. Best
friends again?” she entered and closed the door behind her.

Tara
took a sharp breath. The oxygen had left the comfy room in a second. She was
always taken by surprise when the simplest word, gesture or… cake, were able to
cause her even a physical pain. Claire cringed by the sight of her girlfriend,
put down the dessert and held her in her arms. Tara was shaking with
uncontrollable convulsions. She was in pain, the worst kind. She closed her
eyes and once again saw snapshots, like stills from a movie, in which she and
Peter were the main characters. It was surreal, as if it had happened only in
her imagination. Claire just held her silently until the attack passed.

“Look
at me!” she insisted in a few minutes.

Tara
opened her eyes and looked at her friend’s reflection in the mirror. Claire’s
eyes were filled with tears, but firm, Tara’s own face was ashen, the eyes –
dead.

“You
have to stop doing it!” Claire was squeezing Tara’s shoulders. “Can’t you see
it’s killing you? You’re not the same person!”

“You
don’t expect me to be, do you?” asked Tara shakily.

“No!
But you have to leave him, move on!” said Claire.

“No!
Don’t make me do this! I can’t!” Tara was getting restless.

“Of
course you can, dear, you just don’t want to. I miss the old Tara,” Claire
looked down guiltily.

“I
miss her too. She was much more fun,” answered Tara, but the joke didn’t catch
her eyes.

“You
are looking for him, that’s why we’re here. You have to stop, he’s gone!”
Claire couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

“I
know, but I can still feel him all around me… and I’ll hold on to this!” she
said grimly. “Claire, I know you don’t understand, you try, but…I need to
remember… him, us…happy…” she trailed off.

“It’s
time to start living again! You have a pretty good reason to,” said Claire.

“But
I live!” Tara smiled sadly, “I breath, drink water, eat sometimes. I think
that’s enough!”

“I
didn’t mean that. Why are you destroying yourself? He wouldn’t want that for you.”
Claire was getting into a quicksand and she knew it.

Tara
narrowed her eyes.

“Yes,
you’re right. But he’s no longer calling the shots, neither are you. I need one
more day,” Tara pleaded.

Claire
closed her eyes and sighed.

“Do
you have any idea how I feel when I see you like this?”

“I
do, actually. Please, forgive me! Will you stay with me tonight? I don’t think
I’ll be able to sleep anyway,” asked Tara.

“Of
course, honey! Come!”

Both
women slid under the covers; Claire was cradling Tara, like a baby. She relaxed,
knowing that these hands would never let her go, to betray her, like he did.
Yes, he did and she still couldn’t find it in herself to forgive him.

“And by the way, you’ll always be my
friend, no matter how badly I behave and what an idiot I am.”

***

Four months after the wedding

November

Tara
was alone on the porch, snuggled in a camel wool blanket, warming her hands on
a cup of hot chocolate. Right before her was the pier, illuminated only by some
flickering lights. Only part of the murky lake waters could be seen, before
blending with the darkness ahead. The night sky seemed sprinkled with gold
dust, sparkling. It was peaceful; the only sound was the splashing of the
water. The house behind her was silent and dark. But despite the gloom, the
raising cold and the creeping silence, Tara didn’t feel lonely. He was there.
The wooden porch struts creaked under Peter’s weight. His silhouette was barely
visible in the dim light.

“I
bring gifts! How about you put down your underage, baby drink!” he handed her a
cup of bloody liquid. The hot steam was twisting and swirling.

“What’s
that?” she asked suspiciously.

“This
is my mulled wine; it’s a secret family recipe. I’ll show you!” he made himself
comfortable on the cane-sofa next to her. Tara was laughing out loud.

“Pay
attention!” he looked at her seriously. Tara looked at him, trying to contain
the laughter, filling her lungs.

“First,”
he continued, “you take the cup with both hands and inhale deeply until the
flavors fill your entire body. Come on, tell me what you smell!”

Tara
took a deep breath.

“Hmm,
let me think… orange peel, cinnamon, cloves, vanilla. It smells like
Christmas!” she laughed childishly and looked at him expectantly.

“Now,
take a long sip!” he encouraged. Tara did, burning her throat, the hot liquid
slowly moved down to her lungs. It spread like a warm tide through her veins,
reaching even to her fingertips. The taste of Christmas settled into her mouth.
Tara licked her lips with pleasure.

“You
know, it feels almost like when you kiss me.”

He
took the cup from her hands, pulled her into his lap, holding her in his arms
like a baby. His kiss was deep, sensual, patient, the lips – soft and sticky,
tasting of spices. She was finally home. He was home. Peter took her chin,
lifting her head and peered straight in her eyes.

“I
love you!” so simple and innocent, three words that meant the world. Tara
stopped breathing. He leaned down and pressed his lips on hers without waiting
for an answer, he didn’t need one. This time the kiss was passionate, consuming
and thirsty.

“Promise
me,” Tara murmured, “that it’ll never end, this feeling, you and I, us!” She
was breathing heavily now, her body instinctively responding to his caresses.

“It will never end!” Peter took her
in his arms, carrying her into the dark house. The steaming cups of mulled wine
were forgotten on the porch.

***

Present days

“Tara,”
it was Claire, “will you get up for breakfast?”

Tara
rubbed her eyes sleepily. The morning was sunny, but the air crisp, the
November chill was sneaking on tiptoes through the open window. Claire was
already dressed and was combing her sand-blond hair.

“Come
on, sleepyhead, coffee, croissants, toast…I can go on forever. When was your
last real meal?” asked she seriously.

“Not
sure, time here is a relative concept. But I’ll come down with you, just need a
quick shower,” Tara pulled jerky from under the covers.

“Everything
okay?” Claire frowned. Usually her friend hated to get up early; something was
different that morning.

“Yep!”
answered Tara and went into the bathroom.

“Hmm,
well then, I’ll wait downstairs, okay?” Something was off, but she couldn’t
place her finger on it, so she just shrugged her shoulders and left. Tara was
leaning against the door, listening for Claire’s leaving and when she heard the
door closing, sighed in relief. The last bricks of her firewalls were crumbling
before her eyes. Something was crushing her like dark thunder cloud. It was
that pain again, the breaking of her heart.

Crack!

She
fell to the ground, clutching her fists, waiting to pass. Five minutes later,
still on the ground Tara was breathing more freely, with eyes wide open, ready
to face the day. Claire never fully understood why they came here every year,
hadn’t realized what Tara was trying to do. Her friend was right – she had to
let him go, to move on, but in order to do it, she had to face all the pain,
open her soul and embrace it, and then, if she survived, she would move forward,
keeping only the most beautiful moments and ignoring her grief. She often wondered
if you could die of a broken heart, the physical pain was so real, and that
year every memory was richer, more colorful and more painful.

“I think it’s time,” said she to the
empty room, got up and slipped under the shower.

***

Claire
was waving at her from the far side of the restaurant. Their table was secluded
and overlooking the gardens. Tara’s stomach growled. Well, obviously she needed
to eat something. She wasn’t feeling well, was faint and every step she took,
felt like it was made in a giant bowl, filled with thick sugar syrup. Claire
had ordered tons of food.

“What’s
that?” Tara’s smile was a barely noticeable lifting of the corners of her lips.
“Do we wait a company? This is food for a whole football team.”

“Come,
sit down! It’ll get cold. There’s coffee,” Claire was pushing plate after plate
in front of her. Tara was looking outsight without seeing, no visible thoughts
or feelings on her face, mute. Claire shook her hand.

“Come
on, dear, for me! See, the chef even brought us a complimentary… cinnamon
biscuits.”

Crack!
Tara closed her eyes tightly, cringing.

Crack!