| Home Fires; Tara Shannon 10/8/2007 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 5 2008, 04:04 PM (358 Views) | |
| Harmony | Feb 5 2008, 04:04 PM Post #1 |
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Gogz once fucked a ginger
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“There’s no place like home.” A famous line from a famous movie, probably the most famous line the movie had. Tara grins as she thinks about how much she hated that movie as a child, was scared senseless by the parade of munchkins and the wart-faced, cackling Wicked Witch of the West. According to her family, she screamed at an ear-splitting volume when the Witch made her first appearance on screen. For many nights afterward she made her sister Colleen look in the closet for the ghost of the Wicked Witch and then under the bed for any rogue Munchkins. As she finishes her shower and dries off with a soft fluffy towel, she realizes she still hates the movie, which probably has more to do with the time she watched it her freshman year of college after getting high with her roommates. If anything, it scared her even worse than it did when she was a child. And that was the first and last time she ever smoked pot. She applies a generous dose of baby lotion, and then slips into a pair of worn out Red Sox boxer shorts and a white tank top. Pulling her damp hair into a high ponytail, she ventures out into the living room of her Boston townhouse, purchased the year before. No place like home… When she first began wrestling, Tara figured she would be spending a lot of time on the road so she had originally planned to just continue living at her parents’ home in South Boston. But then the money came in, and with the money came the urge to carve out a little place that was simply hers and hers alone. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d end up finding her dream place in Boston’s Back Bay, aka Yuppieville. But the realtor asked Tara to please humor her, that she would be pleasantly surprised at what she saw. And she was. Nestled in a three-level brownstone with a wrought-iron gate surrounding it, the place could only be described as cozy. When she first walked in, she felt like she lived there already. It had been lovingly restored, the original hardwood floors and crown moldings brought back to their former glory. A small bay window overlooked Beacon Street and towards the Boston Common. The middle window had a small stained-glass insert in the center, which cast colorful shadows across the floor during the day. To her delight, a smallish stone fireplace was in the center of the main living room wall, buttressed on each side by built-in bookcases. A second bay window was in the single bedroom. The place’s only nods towards modern design were in the kitchen and bathroom, which had both been gutted and updated with gleaming new appliances, cabinets and countertops. In a nod to the past though, the bathroom had a modern version of the old claw foot tub. However, this tub had a whirlpool. Tara fell in love and put an immediate offer on the place, knowing that competition in the Boston housing market at that time was fiercer than fierce. Whether it was pure luck or divine intervention or a mix of both she didn’t know, but her offer was accepted that night. And it was a wonderful feeling to know that after weeks on the road seemingly without a break that she had this little haven to come home to and relax. And to be honest, she needed the relaxation. So much occurred in the course of a year, both personally and professionally Tara sometimes felt like her head was swimming. First, the professional. She hadn't really considered joining BQWA for a long time, mostly due to the fact that women there seemed to be consigned to one area and one only, and it tended to involve bikini contests and Playboy-Contract-On-A-Pole matches. Dolly Madison was most persuasive though, and assured Tara that she would never be stuck in the Women's Division if it wasn't what she wanted. And then there was the idea of going up against Jessie Baltos... Tara had never run across someone who was such a tightly coiled spring of anger. Tara suspected there was quite a bit more at work than just a loathing of the opposite gender and the women who seemingly pandered to them. Tara was no shrink, but she wondered if it wasn't more a case of self-loathing at work than anything else, but who knew? Tara had certainly been wrong before. In a lot of ways, Tara appreciated where Jessie was coming from. She herself had been subject to exploitative behavior early on in her career, and she had found it incredibly demoralizing. However, Tara was fortunate in the respect that she eventually landed in a place where she was appreciated for her skills in the ring over her cup size. Nowadays, if she didn't want to do something, she didn't, end of story. The way in which they seemed to differ though was that Tara WAS a woman, and she didn't understand why one would need to obscure that fact in order to show strength. She wore gear that showed the body she worked on, but it certainly wasn't as if her boobs were falling out of it. She liked wearing makeup and a pretty dress if the occasion called for it. She really didn't think it was something she needed to apologize for. She had wrestled in BARBED WIRE matches, for fuck's sake. Jessie Baltos was going to lump her in with all the other imagined "whores" in the BQWA because she liked perfume and eye shadow? Tara's four brothers always taught her never to pander to a man, especially her brother Brendan... Her memory of her brother assaults her consciousness clear as day, and she feels the tears stinging her eyes as she remembers how her last image of him was looking at his waxy face in his coffin, before they closed it to the public because the mortician was unable to conceal the bullet wounds to his head and neck. She shakes her head hard to clear it, and heads over to the fridge for a cold Sam Adams. Under normal cirucmstances Tara was a hardcore Guinness girl, but the summer heat had made her crave something lighter. Even though the days and nights in Boston were still quite warm, Tara desires a sense of coziness, so she decides to start a fire. Soon the logs catch and the room is filled with scent and enveloped in warmth. She walks over to the stereo and puts a CD on, Sting’s Greatest Hits. Stretching out on the huge puffy sofa that dominated most of the room, Tara leans over and lights one of the fragranced Tocca candles that were her favorite. Feeling sentimental, she reaches for a photo album that is filled with photos of family and friends and old boyfriends. She listens to the music and looks through the photos. You could say I lost my faith in science and progress You could say I lost my belief in the holy church You could say I lost my sense of direction Chris Shaugnessy, her very first boyfriend. He was adorable, with copper colored hair, and freckles that sprinkled across his adolescent chubby cheeks. They were as affectionate as St. Bridget’s School would allow them to be, managing to occasionally hold hands during 7th grade Confirmation classes or sneaking a kiss in the auditorium. Really, it was as innocent as innocent could be. The most expensive thing he probably ever got her was a Coke from the Lil Peach on the corner. You could say all of this and worse, but If I ever lose my faith in you There'd be nothing left for me to do The last she heard about Chris, he was in his second year of law school and engaged to Jamie Reilly, another classmate of theirs. She was happy for him; he was a really sweet guy from a good family. Some would say I was a lost man in a lost world You could say I lost my faith in the people on TV You could say I'd lost my belief in our politicians They all seemed like game show hosts to me Peter Martin, the proverbial high school sweetheart. They dated from sophomore year until right after they both graduated. They were both involved in sports, Peter a football player, Tara active in softball. She looks at a picture from one of the many dances they attended together. Tara looks like a little girl playing dress up with her hair in a bun, with little tendrils around her round face, and Peter wearing a suit that he borrowed from his older brother, with sleeves he had to roll up because they were too long. He wore his dark hair loose and shaggy, and she always loved to ruffle it affectionately. If I ever lose my faith in you There'd be nothing left for me to do Peter was her first everything: her first real kiss, first makeout session, first lover, first heartbreak. They simply grew apart, and knowing that Peter was heading to college in Tennessee while she was staying in Boston pretty much hastened the end. He called as soon as he found out about Brendan's death, expressing his condolences and sending a donation to the memorial fund set up in her brother's name. He sent her an email when her wrestling career ascended, saying how proud he was of her and was very excited to see how well she was. He was in Nashville, in med school at Vanderbilt, dating the same girl for several years. I could be lost inside their lies without a trace But every time I close my eyes I see your face At Boston University, Tara enjoyed playing the field until an incident sophomore year kept her pretty much away from the dating scene throughout the rest of her college career. It’s not something she enjoys thinking about, so she puts it to the back of her head. I never saw no miracle of science That didn't go from a blessing to a curse After college, she concentrated on wrestling school, working at the pub and at any indy show that would have her, until WCCW and Joe MacKirk. I never saw no military solution That didn't always end up as something worse, but Let me say this first It was fun once. She and Joe and Scott Surrey were a team, and they had a blast together. He supported her and she him. She wondered for a very long time exactly where it all went wrong, but really it was the old hackneyed thing about being in two different places, both literally and figuratively. Joe was a California boy through and through, and while Tara had enjoyed spending time out there, it was never a place she wanted to call home. The atmosphere was too laid back, the perpetual summer disconcerting, and the prices of absolutely everything were through the roof. Most of all though, her family was here, and after losing Brendan, she knew she could never stray too far away from them, no matter where her career took her. If I ever lose my faith in you There'd be nothing left for me to do Brendan Black. However misguided his original purposes had been, he had seen her through the most difficult period of her entire life, and not only that, he had taken it upon himself to do the task that she thought she would be able to do so easily, and couldn’t. It was the one thing she would never forgive herself for; putting him in that position. However, even if that hadn’t happened, she had a feeling that the relationship wouldn’t have worked out in the long run. In the end, each one was a glaring reminder of the pain the other had endured. Shaking her head a little to clear Brendan Black’s visage from her mind, Tara thinks about her unexpected meeting with Paul Healy. She really never afforded herself the luxury of being too overtly sentimental, but in Paul, she had found her perfect match. He was incredibly bright and easygoing, and had really no ulterior motives for anything. He made her laugh, and he was adorably cute, at least in her eyes. She worried a bit at first that perhaps Brendan would be the only thing that they would have in common, but as it turned out that wasn’t true at all. They shared many of the same values, laughed at the same jokes, enjoyed a lot of the same things. And that probably was Brendan Shannon’s influence on both of them, which when she thought about it, wasn’t a bad thing at all. Tara is startled by the sudden shrill ring of the telephone. Glancing down at the caller ID, she grins when she sees Paul’s cell number on the display. Tara: Hello? Paul: Hey, angel. Whatcha doin? Tara: Eh…just reminiscing a little, looking at some pictures. Paul: You mean you aren’t running up and down 500 stairs and doing chin-ups on a meat hook like your opponent probably is? Tara laughs. Tara: I'd like to think that Jessie is probably at a local red-light district waiting to powerbomb strippers. Paul: I'd let you be a stripper for me, but only on your terms, of course. Tara: Ah, no ulterior motive there, I'm sure... Paul: Are you kidding? I'd have to go to confession if my intentions were anything but pure. I'm just saying, if you HAPPENED to be wearing easily removable items with pasties and a g-string on underneath, far be it from me to object. Tara: Of course, you're pure as the driven snow. Anyway, will you be here soon? I miss you. Paul worked in a liquor distribution warehouse, delivering to different restaurants, bars and other businesses. He studied Criminal Justice at night. Paul: Yeah, just gotta finish up some paperwork here, and I'll be taking off. I should be there in about an hour, okay? Tara: Okay. I love you. Paul: I love you too, angel. See you soon. Tara places the phone back on the receiver and leans back. Glancing down at the pictures of the past, she slaps the album shut, then rises to her feet to slide it back on the bookcase, out of sight. If I ever lose my faith in you There'd be nothing left for me to do... |
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9:20 AM Jul 11