Continued from
this post.
It's been days.
Days.
She would have called, wouldn't she? She wouldn't have just up and left. Right?
Tara's not like that. She wouldn't just leave without telling me. I know it was only one night, but I comforted her after her nightmares, we played miniature golf, she helped me. It's not like she would disappear.
I tried getting ahold of Lorne, but the bartender always hung up on me.
I'm really trying not to imagine if her demons really had gotten to her. Could they have hauled her away? Hurt her? She would have called.
I stare at the line of light still gleaming through the curtains, waiting...waiting...waiting for it to go away. Los Angeles sunsets seem to linger unusually long. Sometimes I hate that. I watch as the strip changes from golden to orange to reddish on the carpet. I'm out of here the minute it's gone.
I can't seem to get to her apartment quick enough, and I bang on the door, "Tara. Tara, it's Angel. Are you okay?" She's got to be in there. She's got to be okay. She just has to be.