Short chapter, I warn you.
It answers some questions though. I really wish you guys wouldn't flame me for having them fight, I dont appreciate it. it IS romeo and juliet, there IS going to be conflict. it makes me sad, and not want to write. :(
As I stepped out of Victor's door, I swear I could feel someone etching 'IDIOT' across my forehead. Keep walking, I told myself.
Wee woo wee woo! Sirens blaring! C'mon Rae, you idiot, maybe you can still fix things! Go back in there and—
And what? Run into his oh so forgiving- oh wait, he threw a CD at me, I wonder how forgiving he'll be.
Gar is a very loving person who happens to love us! If you apologized correctly and probably kissed him, he'd forgive us.
You don't know that, you're a voice. Oh shit, I'm talking to myself. Padded walls, here I come.
I hear white is very in fashion this season, it's alright.
Shut up shut up shut up!
Now, now Rachel, denial will get you absolutely no where in life. You should accept it. You and Gar really belong together, honestly. You're being a real bitch about this, I'm warning you. Push him any farther away and you're going to lose him forever.
I could use a cup of tea right now.
Starbucks, second corner.
Shut up now.
You're being moronic.
This time, I just decided to ignore the stupid little voice. I figured it was best, seeing as how I was having a conversation with my best and I'm pretty sure normal people don't talk to themselves. Then again, I'm also pretty sure normal people don't have such complicated relationships with their on-and-off again boyfriends.
I cursed myself for not taking my coat off of Victor's bed when I could've and shivered, picking up my pace by a few seconds. I breathed a bit harder and saw my breath practically freeze in the air in front of me. Gar would've laughed at that.
No. No Gar. We're not thinking about Gar anymore. Suddenly, I felt something cold run down my cheek. And then another, followed by another. I brought my cold, almost numb hand up to my face and dabbed it against my cheek. When it pulled away, there was water on it. I couldn't be… I wasn't crying.
Oh god, I was crying. Not over Gar though, certainly. That would just be illogical. I had clearly shown him and myself that I didn't have feelings for him, with Victor as a witness…
Oh girl, who are you kidding?
I entered the Starbucks still crying, sniffling, and half numb from the cold. I was greeted by a blast of warm air and thanked whoever was in charge of that kind of thing up there, sliding into a table. I ran my cold hands through my hair a few times, sighing, then patted my pocket to make sure the fateful CD was still there as well. After I placed my order I returned to my table, surprised to see someone, a familiar someone at that, sitting in the chair opposite of the one I had been sitting in.
A meek smile was my first reply. "Hey, Rachel."
"What…what are you doing here?" What are you doing at my table? In my Starbucks? In my proximity, you bitch.
"I need to explain myself. I…I don't have the guts to face Gar," she said softly, stirring a cup of hot chocolate. I took in her appearance. She was pretty and thin as always, but there was something hollow about her. Her long, normally shiny blonde hair looked dull and there were bags under her big blue eyes, like she hadn't slept in weeks. The scarf around her neck looked ready to suffocate her, her coat looked two sizes too big, and her boots were clunky and huge instead of small and dainty like she usually wore.
This was not the Tara Markov I saw at school. "Have you slept recently?" I asked before I could stop. At least my voice didn't carry any concern, or I really might start to fear for my well being. Me, care for Tara? Psh.
She paused, clearly caught off guard, and shook her head. "I've been feeling so guilty. About ratting Gar out to your dad and Mr. Wilson." Mr. Wilson was my Dad's business partner, a man who was speculated to be Tara's uncle. My jaw dropped, but in my gut I think I had partially known it. "I know it was the bitchiest, meanest, cruelest thing to do, but I just…Mr. Wilson promised me things. He's such a smooth talker Rachel, I believed him, I…"
I rested both my elbows on the table, leaning forward and sighing. "Tara, stop."
"Can I ask about why you pretended to be dead?"
She nodded. "It wasn't my idea. It was your D…It was Mr. Wilson's, actually. He suggested that if Gar was so torn over my death, he wouldn't want to be around Rachel—you anymore." My father had thought that a girl faking her own death would be a good idea? The very thought of it just made my blood boil.
"But there was something I told Gar that I need tell you now. You're agitated, so I'm gonna take it that you and Gar were fighting, so I know this won't help your bad mood and I hope you'll believe me." I opened my mouth to protest, but she just shot me a 'Don't-try-to-argue-your-way-out-of-this' look. "I…I have depression, Rachel. The whole 'Tara wants to die' thing, it wasn't just completely out of the blue."
Now I was really surprised. Miss Prom Queen, Perfect Tara, having depression? That, ladies and gentlemen, will still your babies before they're born. Who needs abortion? We've got Tara Markov! Oh, and apparently, her depression! "Well, I never really told Gar this part. He'd just flip on me and go extra protective, but I can trust that you don't care that much, right?" She let out a melancholy laugh, and I instantly felt a bit bad.
I sipped my tea, nodding her on. "So when Mr. Wilson found out, he twisted the idea of suicide idealization into actual suicide, and used some of your dad's contacts with the Police to make it seem like I killed myself for a few days. The plan was that I was that I was going to be pulled out of school and moved away and just have my life started over (and believe me, I had no say in the matter) when you saw me at school getting my things."
I felt the urge to laugh. An entire plan spoiled, because of a silly, stupid mistake like that.
"Yeah, but then your parents knew about Gar, and threatened you, didn't they? I'm so, so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I was just jealous, you know, because he was my boyfriend for so long and I really did love him, I still do, just not like that, and…"
I nodded. "I can't be with Gar, or my Father is going to do something to his family or worse, him. I just wish… I wish I could tell him that, to make him understand that we really can't be together or something bad will happen to him. I…l…love him…so much…"
Tara reached out, lacing her fingers together with mine. "I'm sorry if I was ever a bitch to you Rachel."
I couldn't smile because I was too focused on making sure I didn't cry into my tea.
"Good evening honey. Oh! Where on earth is your coat, you'll catch a cold for god's sakes!"
"Whatever," I growled, pushing past my mother to hang my scarf on the coat rack. I stood there for a few minutes, not moving, closing my eyes as hard as I could and clenching my jaw muscle. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out…
"Are…are you alright?"
"Do I look alright?" I snapped, twisting away from her outstretched hand and storming away into my room. I flopped into my bed, ripped off my shirt, and lay on my bed. I shut my eyes, trying to block out Rachel's seething voice.
"Because, Gar! How do you expect our relationship to work with both our parents hating each other? What do you think is going to come out of it? More and more anger and fighting, that's what! You think that if we get together all our family feuds will magically disappear? Remember Romeo and Juliet? Their parents hated each other, and the only reason that they got over it was because their kids died, Gar."
The clock ticked on loudly. And louder, and louder, and eventually it was too loud for me to be able to handle. With a fit of rage I raced towards the plain black and white clock that had never bothered me before in its ten years of work, tore it off the wall, and smashed it onto the ground. Now all I wanted to do was throw back my head and howl, or maybe pant angrily.
Okay, joking there people. Not really serious. Well, sort of.
A knock at the door interrupted my rabid-dog-meets-boy fest and I instantly tried to hide the broken, no longer ticking clock underneath the covers of my bed. "Uh, one second!" I called frantically, struggling to pick up all the pieces of the clock. "Okay, come on in," I breathed finally, having disposed of everything out the window.
"Did I hear something smash?" My mother asked curiously, glancing around my room.
"No!" I answered quickly, flashing a large smile. God that hurts my cheeks… Mom noticed I answered a bit too quickly, because she raised an eyebrow and pointed at the bed after uncrossing her arms.
"Bed. Sit. Now."
I did as I was instructed, awkwardly sitting shirtless next to my mother. "Can I put on a shirt, Mom?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest to- yes, in case you're wondering, cover it up. So I'm a bit self conscious, sue me. She nodded her yes, and I pulled on a long sleeve, blue shirt. I joined her on the bed again.
"This is about the girl you kissed during the play, isn't it? The Rachel girl? Well, let me tell you, I want you to avoid your father for the next few days! He is seething."
"No problem," I muttered under my breath, falling onto my back and sighing deeply.
"What's the matter? This isn't just about the kiss, is it? Come on, you can tell your mother. I'm not into the whole 'rivalry' thing like your father is. You can trust me." I studied my mom for a minute, taking in her kind smell and aroma that smelled of kitchen, where she had been working all morning. She had been taking a well deserved break from her work and baking up a storm since yesterday, and the house smelled of cinnamon and cookies and all sorts of wonders you can think of.
"Okay…here's the thing. I mean, maybe it's her period!" Uh oh, I was getting into a rant now. "I don't get it! I don't get, girls! What is up with them! I do a really romantic gesture and I think I'm doing something right but she flat out rejects me! I don't, I just don't, get it! I mean, is there something wrong with me? Did I do something wrong? Is it my breath? I showered today! Was it the mood? Was there even a mood? Oh god, there wasn't a mood!"
Instead of letting her eyes widen at the rate my voice was yapping off, my mother just took my head in my head in her hands and whispered into my ear, "Sometimes honey, love is just a bit more complicated than you think."
As i said, short. One POV change, yeah.
hope you liked it and it answered some of your questions, like why rachel keeps rejecting gar. review?