Author: MissKittys Ball O Yarn
Tara sat on the edge of Spencer's bed. "Tonight was fun, kiddo. Did you have a good time?"
"Yeah...but I still wish I could be with Lee-Lee this week."
"I know you do."
"Maybe you could call her on the phone and make her come get me."
"I can't make her come get you Spencer. That's not the way these things work."
"Why not? When I'm being bad you make me do the right things."
Spencer took Tara‘s hand in his, twisting his finger around her pinky finger "That's right. I do. But that's because I'm your Mommy and I love you very much." Tara touched the end of Spencer's nose, but she could tell he had more to say.
"But don't you love Lee-Lee, Mommy, can‘t you make her do the right things too?"
"I care about Lee-Lee, because she's important to you...but sometimes grown-ups--" Tara stopped. She didn't want to go into too much detail, there were just some things Spencer didn't need to worry about, and that was one of them...for now, anyway.
"It's not fair."
"I know it's not. And I'm sorry that your feelings are hurt." Tara said softly. She ran her fingers through Spencer's blonde hair.
"Mommy.... Can I call Lee-Lee on the telephone before I go to sleep?"
"Of course sweetie." Tara gave the cordless phone, she'd carried in with her to Spencer, his small hands traced the number-pad before his finger found the speed-dial button with Logan's name written across from it.
He held the phone to his ear for a long moment, before bringing it down again. "Nobody‘s there..." Spencer held the phone out to Tara.
"Do you want me to sing it for you instead?" Tara knew what he was wanting.
"Lay down." Tara said, tucking the boys covers around him. "You snuggly enough?" Tara asked. Spencer nodded. "Okay then......"
"Goodnight my Spence goodnight
"Sing it again Mommy...."
Tara sang it again, and again until Spencer's eyes closed and is breathing deepened. And then she sang it once more this time more softly than the last. She put her heart into the short lullaby Logan had written for Spencer so long ago. She knew what he missed the most was hearing Logan's voice.
Willow yawned as she tapped her finger against the can of fish food in her hand. The goldfish ate greedily, sucking up the medium sized flecks of food before the filter had a chance to whisk them from the top.
Willow paced the length of her spacious apartment coming to stop in front of the large window. She had a great view. And on clear nights like these the lighted windows of downtown LA looked like twinkling fairy lights. Willow unfocused her eyes until each pinpoint of light dismantled itself from the larger picture and transformed into tiny stars.
Willow lived on the top floor of a very prestigious building in a very prestigious neighborhood. But on nights like these she couldn't remember why she had chose this life for herself. It wasn't like she really cared about any of it...the fancy apartment and cars were only material items and held no real value aside from the all mighty dollar. And even the dollar depreciated as time wore on. All her material items could be bought again without any real loss. No. She didn't really have anything of value. ... Not like the woman at the restaurant, who had a family.
Willow could recall the tenderness in the woman's voice when she'd spoken to her son...She'd called him "Little Man" Which was just the most adorable thing Willow had ever heard one person say to another. And there had been such a warmth in the woman's voice...something so comforting and....valuable; there was that word again.
Willow turned away from the view. She let her eyes focus again and the twinkling stars turned back into lighted windows of the buildings below.
"Are you drunk, Logan?" Tara opened the front door and a wave of stale air hit her in the face. Logan was standing on the fount porch looking more as if she'd been poured there then if she'd walked of her own free will.
"Who are you, the drink police? I want to see Spencer."
"No....You need to go and come back when you haven't been drinking." Tara kept her voice low, she didn't want Spencer to see Logan this way.
This wasn't the first time Tara's ex had shown up drunk on her doorstep, she seemed to do it every time there was an altercation between herself and Kelly. Logan would show up at Tara's, demand to see Spencer and then throw up in the bushes. On most occasions it wasn't that difficult to divert the woman's attention away from Spencer, but tonight there was something different shining in Logan's inebriated expression. She was serious this time, and Tara knew that tonight, the other woman wasn't going to be turned around so easily.
"Cut the crap Tara, where's Spencer?"
"Not tonight Logan, he's already asleep." Tara casually put her arm across the doorway as a barrier between herself and Logan.
"I want to see my son!"
"Please...d-don't do this now. He doesn't need to see you this way. Tara braced herself as the woman tried to push her way through the doorway.
Tara turned toward the sound of her son's small voice. He was standing in the hallway peeking his eyes around the corner, his fingers gripping the wall tightly. "Damn..." Tara breathed under her breath. She and Logan exchanged looks; Logan's was defiant and Tara knew the woman wasn't going to back down, not even for the sake of Spencer. Logan took Tara's momentary distraction as an opportunity to slip past Tara's arm.
"How's my guy, huh!?"
"Are you fighting with Mommy?"
Spencer's voice suddenly seemed very little to Tara.
"No Sport. Actually I came to see you."
"You did?" Spencer's eyebrows rose in surprise.
Tara watched the expression on her son's face go from apprehension to delight in three seconds flat. He ran to Logan, throwing himself against the woman's legs, nearing knocking her down in the process. Tara was afraid that Logan was going to fall over, but the woman held her ground. Tara prayed that she wouldn't try to pick Spencer up.
Tara sat on the couch in the living room, with her head in her hands. She could hear Logan talking to Spencer in his bedroom. The woman was putting on a brilliant performance...but Tara could see through the tears in Logan's voice. She was doing it again. Tara could hear Logan telling Spencer things he was too young to understand and making more promises Tara knew she wouldn't be keeping.
After 20 or so minutes there was silence. Tara got up off the couch and made her way down the hall. She looked around Spencer's open door. Logan had him on her lap. Spencer was asleep, his arms wrapped around her neck. Tara went back to the couch and tucking her legs up under her she sat and waited for it to be over.
When Logan finally came out of Spencer's room Tara breathed a sigh of relief. " You have to stop doing this, making him promises you can‘t keep." Tara felt anger flare up in her chest. She breathed out trying to control the angry words she felt that were ready to erupt.
"You come over here and tell him that Kelly's mean to you and cry and say how sorry you are and that you are going to change....He doesn't need to know all that Logan, he's just a child. He's not a grown-up. And I just don't know what to do anymore...." Tara continued when Logan said nothing " You can't keep showing up like this and then disappearing out of his life! It‘s not fair to him and he‘s hurting because of it."
"I know....I need to do things differently. It's just... hard sometimes."
"No. It's hard all the time. It's hard for him. He just wants to have a relationship with you Logan. He l-loves you."
"But you don't, right?"
"No. I don't." Tara didn't mean to sound so harsh. " I don't think I ever really did..." Her voice trailed off into silence. They stayed there like that, in silence for a few moments before something seemed to snap inside the short-haired brunette. Logan didn't turn around to look at Tara again as she left the house, slamming the front door behind her. Tara's head fell back against the wall, her eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.
What have you got for me today Lucy? Anyone new? Willow pulled up the major newspaper, online as she listened to her assistant read off a list of names over the phone. Willow sighed, she'd already taken a look at everyone on that list and thought their work was tasteless. Each one had lacked that something Willow was sure would clinch the deal for her; she thought Kitsch might be the word she was looking for. None of the artists on Lucy's list had inspired anything in Willow beyond morbid curiosity and the urge to get out of their shops, certainly not the kind of vibe that would fit in the children's design market ... "Keep trying..." Willow put the receiver back into its cradle.
Willow scrolled down the pages of the Los Angeles tribune for anything that could possibly turn into a lead. There was nothing new going on, just the usual things. Art showings in some of the bigger galleries and a few private collections listed for auction. But Willow was looking for the right artist, not the right artist's work. Willow's eyes traveled down the list of showings, double checking for anything she might have missed. And there it was, a single sentence grabbing Willow's vision: Sidewalk showing this weekend featuring local artists and their varied creative works. Willow scrawled down the location on a stay piece of paper from her desk. This was it, she could feel it. This was exactly what she was looking for.
On Friday afternoon, Tara settled in to work on her latest painting. Spencer was at school and the house seemed a little too quiet for her taste, so she'd decided to spend the day in her studio.
Tara's studio was once their garage but it hadn't taken she and Spencer long to see it's potential as a quiet place to create. There were large windows framed in white wood that let the perfect amount of natural light flow into the space. Along each window sill, in between small and tangled potted plants were beautiful green-colored glass bottles that Tara had put there to catch the light. The floor was concrete, which she kept covered with a drop-cloth. There were many small canvases hanging from the walls and the larger pieces stood propped up against the floor and the wall. Tara's easel stood against the windowed wall, turned to the side so that she could stand bathed in sunlight as she worked. Spencer's easel was much smaller and positioned facing Tara's. They liked to work facing each other like that.
Tara took the cover off her latest creation. She dipped her brush in paint thinner before applying a bit of the oily red paint to the very end of her brush. The empty green bottles cast green flints of light across the canvas as the sun shone through them; the dancing light, creating blobs of green tint that skipped across the whitewashed walls. Tara let her brush hover over the canvas before bringing the red paint down in one fluid motion, creating, in one stroke the side view of a mysterious woman Tara had yet to give a face to. Tara paused, staring at the canvas. Something was missing but she just couldn't figure out what it was. She put the brush down, and wiped the back of her hand across her face. Maybe now wasn't the best time to work on the painting, Tara decided. She really should have been deciding which pieces to display at the showing that weekend anyway.