Best one so far, I think. Coming back from the Hamby's house -- where Bill has glamoured them hard (and hopefully made Jessica's dad less of a creep) -- Bill and Sookie have a giant fight. She runs off after one taste too many of Bill's ugly paternalistic side, and is of course immediately attacked by a mysterious minotaurean creature that looks disturbingly like Jamiroquai.
While Sookie lies around groaning and bleeding grossly just like every other episode, it is determined that the scratches on her back contain a Komodo-like and agonizing paralytic, presumably the sort used on Miss Jeanette before it took her heart. Watching Sookie cough up disgusting white gunk makes Bill fall back in love with her, while Eric sends Chow and Pam (in her favorite pumps!) to find the monster. Eric's delightful dwarven house doctor Dr. Ludwig burns out Sookie's infection with acid while Bill holds her down.
Of course, now that he's saved her life it's assured Sookie will take Eric's Dallas job, especially after a disconcerting experience with Ginger reveals the still-mortal Lafayette's continued dungeon visit. She goes the eff off on Eric, buying L's freedom with her promise. A long talk about how maybe vampires aren't like cuter versions of bunny rabbits causes Sookie to reevaluate this shit, but it probably won't really register.
Eric makes it perfectly crystal clear that he would like to have lots and lots of sex with Lafayette, because Eric is the king of really good ideas, but less awesome is Lafayette's total state of PTSD. Finally home, be drops the brave face, curls up on his couch, and cries like a baby for I'm guessing several weeks.
Jason's still heaving and sweating half-naked, but since it's at the Light of Day retreat he's doing it solo; no-homo dreams of Eddie and nervous bunkroom prayers irk the Lukinator even worse than before. A group-therapy cult indoctrination helps Jason admit his doubts about the FOL's hateful agenda, not to mention his positive connections to vamps like Bill and Eddie; Sarah Newlin immediately brings him right back into the church with flattery and rhetoric, just enough truth, and the sad story of her own sister's fangbanger death. Dinner at the Newlins gets kinda bi, but not in the good way, and so Jason ends up in their guestroom, blueballs glowing like the sun.
Post-drunken riot at Merlotte's, Sam goes off on Daphne and Tara and leaves the bar to Terry, who points out what a total coward he's being. Tara asks Maryann why Sam totally fucking hates her; she pretends innocence but lays on the jealousy thing thick, making Sam the bad guy. One last romp with Dean the dog leads to a romantic midnight swim with adorable Daphne (Google Daphnis, not Daphne, if you're following the Maryann stuff), who carries the scars of a Jamiroquai bite her own self.
Renewed affections with Eggs are the highlight of a party that evening, which starts with acoustic guitar and ends with: fat naked Louisianans fucking, a disappearing/reappearing quantum pig, black-eyed threesomes everywhere, bacchant insanity, Andy more adorably befuddled than ever, and Tara freaking the fuck out because swingers are nasty as hell.
Best of all, a bored Jessica heads to Merlotte's and, just as we suspected, gets Hoyt's beautiful heart in her hands immediately. They are adorable as hell, turning at least one cynic's heart inside out with the power of their beautiful true-love romance. It is the greatest thing that ever happened in the history of human life. (Oh, Hoyt. Now do you see why I love him? Jesus.) So she takes him home, accidentally pops premature fang, and then heads for second. Sadly, Bill and Sookie come home and nearly pass out parentally from all the semiotics in play: Your daughter making out with a boy is bad, but a human making out with a teen vampire is bad in the exact opposite direction. Wonder who Bill's going to spank first?
week: our nation's birthday and a three-ep marathon. In two weeks, Bill and Sookie finally go to Dallas to track down Godric, Maryann reacts to Tara's decision to move out, Daphne gets more mysterious and awesome, and things get weird(er) at Light Of Day.
Discuss this episode in our forums, then see who vlogger Sean Crespo thinks Bill will hook up with in No Prior Knowledge!
You can tell Bill's pissed, because his mouth is making the same face as always but his eyes aren't doing that sympathetic eyebrow thing. That equals mad. Also, passive-aggressively driving superfast with your scared girlfriend to you and your sniveling bleeding-eyed daughter in the backseat. Sookie yells at him to stop it, and he pulls over, finally, although with vampire reflexes I'm sure driving that fast is perfectly safe. Like when they go zooming superfast like that, they probably bump into things really rarely.
Sookie apologizes for taking Jessica to murder her family, but... Bill immediately jumps up her ass about his favorite topic under the moon: "She is vampyre! She has no family!" Jessica, not understanding that this is now all about rhetoric and semantics, because it's Bill and Sookie and if they don't have a fight every six minutes they'll both die, jumps in there saying the meanest thing she can think of: "I'm a monster and I'm gonna be alone forever! Because of you!"
Which is masterful on several levels, because not only is it about how he's totally guilty about Jessica even existing, but manages to score an indirect hit off his obsessive relationship with Sookie, which is intense precisely because they're each other's one shot. (And on the meta-Jessica level, awesome because it presages her finding her own version of Bill/Sookie, and all the gender and sexual reversals that arise from that, not only thematically but as actual, kitchen-sink foreshadowing: "I'm going to be alone forever," she says, working off the powerful loneliness of -- can you imagine? -- Bill Compton and Sookie Stackhouse being literally the only other people in her life.)
He tells her to shut up as she continues to whine, and she tells him to eat shit, awesomely, so he says it in his Vampyre Lord Maker Daddy voice, which shoves her physically back into the seat cushions. He tries to explain to Sookie how many different ways she fucked up. "You undermined my authority as her maker. You risked those peoples' safety and your own. If I had not glamoured them within an inch of their sanity, our lives would have been shattered." Sookie's like, "Dude! Gotcha! My bad!" He asks her what use her apologies are, and she asks him what use being a big baby about it is now, and she's like, "Okay, but also my Gran died, sad face, so let's think about that for a second." Bill says, very logically, that the fact her Gran went down in a storm of blood that Sookie cleaned up with her own two hands is not admissible for this fight, and calls her an "irresponsible child," which amazes Sookie, because it's amazing, because when you're dating somebody literally one-twentieth your age, you can't say that shit. "She is a loaded gun, Sookie. Not a doll for you to dress up and play with."
Which is true, which is why Sookie gets the fuck out the car and starts walking, even though Bon Temps is nearly 20 miles off still. He weakly yells at her for like one second and then gets in the car all huffy and slams the door, and Jessica's like, "Um, you have to go after her, douche." Bill Compton looks really good in this scene. "She wants you to go after her, and kiss her, and tell her that you luvvv her." Bill's all, "I'm the drama queen, she's the handicapped realist, you're the loaded gun. Stay in your box. Everybody stay in their box. Sookie can't be the one that runs off and acts ridiculous, or stands on misty moors and stares into space, because then I will have no identity to speak of."
Jessica's like, "First of all, I can't handle it when Mommy and Daddy fight, because you're the only two people I know on Earth now. Secondly: You both do that all the time. Go get her ass so we can go home. I've got dried blood running down my face so I look like an autopsy." He shakes his head and says Sookie will come back when she's ready. Which I sort of hate, because I hate whenever guys demonstrate "waiting around" for their woman to stop being crazy and settle down and do what they're told, not because that doesn't happen but because it happens both ways, and on TV it's only ever women that get overemotional and you have to wait for them to calm down, whereas in my experience the opposite is true, but that fits so well with Bill's overarching and sort of lazy paternalistic vibe that whatever, he'll sit in that fucking car all night waiting for Sookie to work it out. And I mean, it's not about who has the "right" to be angry, because that's always just code for who has the right to be a dick, but if anybody has the right to be angry, it's Bill, because they both knew he would be mad and they both knew it was going to be on him, whatever happened.
But also: 1) Stop treating her like a loaded gun and she'll stop acting like one and 2) Stop forcing her into positions where she's made to feel filthy for just existing. Which is your whole bag, and it's sad, but the whole menstruation metaphor last week ("Shouldn't I know this about myself? Shouldn't Bill have told me?") is also a metaphor for how bad those kind of talks can go, because Bill's shame -- essentially about his body, his desires -- is getting all over Jessica. Which is precisely where she came from. And frankly, they both deserve better.
Sookie finds herself, meanwhile, in a horror movie about dark country roads and strange noises and calling out for somebody that's not there and getting more and more terrified as the sounds get closer and feeling eyes on you and then finally summoning the strength to turn around and look at the thing that every part of your body is telling you not to look at. What's unusual about this one, though, is twofold. Firstly, there's actually something there. Secondly, it looks like Jamiroquai, which is atypical as far as animals you might find in the woods at night. Its claws are filthy wet, and very sharp, and she goes down immediately, paralyzed and staring.
Bills feels it and his eyes get wide and he runs! She doesn't move, but she does groan horribly when he turns her over, and she's like, "Sort of a bull, sort of a human, I don't know, I'm fucked up." Or whatever, that same thing but in the language of grunts and burbles. So he does the whole DRINK BEFORE THE WOUND CLOSES thing, but it turns out not so great this time, and for whatever reason his vampire blood is vinegar and the Jamiroquai venom is baking soda and that makes Sookie a third-grade volcano erupting in white barfy foam.
Jessica's like, "GROSS! And AWESOME!" Bill tells her to get the car, and she drives superfast to Fangtasia! and then Jessica gets all pissy when he tells her to go home. Which, Fangtasia! is awesome, that's where you get Eric and Pam, so I understand her being sullen about it, but also: what's the point? I guess because the club's probably not empty, so he'd have to watch out for both of them, and he's too consumed by the all-consuming consumption of Sookie to deal. He throws that "maker" thing around like Mardi Gras beads some more -- which, again, how is this different from before? -- and she sullenly drives off.
Daphne comes into Sam's office, scared to death, and he's still staring into space due to the whole Maryann issue where she turned him into a dog and all that. Daphne's scared because she's short. As in very, as in $64 ("and, like, eight cents"), which is a whole lot actually. "Goddamnit, Daphne!" he yells, and she jerks, and he apologizes but says she'll have to make up for it. Almost crying, she empties out her apron onto the table, crushed bills and coins, and leaves crying. Tara appears with that smug Maryann wisdom smile on her face and explains to Sam that Daphne needs positive reinforcement: "Nobody succeeds at anything in life unless somebody leads them," Tara says.
Which is bullshit, and the first thing the whole Maryann and Tara Dog & Pony Show have said that I actually disagree with. The grossest thing in the world is finding yourself in a position where you're selling self-reliance, and the people can come and say, "Please! Tell us more about how to think for ourselves!" I mean, that's nasty on accident. But Maryann, maybe she's doing it on purpose. Which is sick, especially because -- like Amy, or the Newlins -- she has a lot to offer that doesn't lead there. On the other hand, without worship Gods just start wheezing and forgetting where they parked the car, so I guess the rules are a little different here.
Sam gets all pissy, and Tara once more questions what Sam's deal is with Maryann, or what she did to him -- other than just drop almost $300 in his bar -- and he can't say "Because she vibed on me when we were fucking in my teen years, and because she turns me into a dog if I act up" so he just says he doesn't want her in the bar anymore, and that Tara should stay the hell away from her. When Tara protests that he doesn't even know her, Sam yells over his shoulder that she doesn't either, and she's all alone in his office with her face screwed up going, "Ugh, he just doesn't get it. Some people just don't want to be happy" or whatever.
Sookie asks tiny little Dr. Ludwig what kind of doctor she is, and she says, "The healing kind?" I think she's the Mines of Moria kind. Possibly the Travelocity kind. She's very terse and methodical, putting on gloves and touching the scars, which are livid and disgusting. When Sookie screams, Bill reacts of course, and when Sookie asks if she's dying and the doctor says yes, Bill gets all jumpy and weird and starts yelling.
"Back off, vampire," the little old lady grunts. "Let me do my job." Eric explains that Bill is a huge drama queen and very much in love, abnormally attached. Ludwig explains that Sookie's been poisoned, so Bill wigs out more. "You ever heard of komodo dragons? Their mouths are teeming with bacteria." Bill is almost crying, and Sookie's all wiggly and gurgly. "After one has bitten you, it will track you for hours, days, just waiting for the toxins to slowly eat away at your nervous system until you're good and helpless. Then it will devour you alive." That's why I never married Sharon Stone, that right there.
Sookie's kind of out of it so she's like, "Wait, I was attacked by a fucking dragon?" Ludwig's like, No, something better. Maybe she saw it before, maybe not, but there's not really time to do the whole House thing on it, due to Sookie dying. She tells the boys to leave so she can take off Sookie's clothes and deal with this, and Bill crouches and stares into her very effectively terrified eyes. He tells her how sorry he is, and her response is to shoot out more volcano foam, coughing and gross.
Outside, Eric's like, "Okay, so something with the head of the bull?" Bill can't think of anything, and didn't see the thing at all, and when he gave her blood the vomit fountain was the result. Eric is surprised by his lack of knowledge about this particular kind of thing, because he knows everything, and he sends Pam and Chow to go find it. Pam resists because she's wearing Betsey Johnson pumps, and he pulls Master on her, in Swedish, so she goes off scowling. "She is extremely lazy," Eric notes, "But loyal." He asks about Bill's Pam, Jessica, and Bill rolls his eyes around. "Petulant. Dangerous. Afraid." Eric almost giggles. "Being a good maker is very rewarding." Bill's like, "Ah have no tahm to discuss the fahner points of makers, for my one true love is in pain," and Eric tells him to chill. "Dr. Ludwig treated one of Pam's humans when it was mauled by a werewolf. Lost an eye, but otherwise he's fine." Which is not comforting, but is overshadowed by the huge giant Sookie scream echoing all over the place.
Bill zooms into the office, where Dr. Ludwig is fully pouring acid (or maybe vinegar, just to see what happens) on her back and burning it out. Which is like a metaphor for every second of this show. "Hold her down!" Dr. Ludwig screams, and since there aren't any options, Bill has to hold Sookie down while she's screaming. Which is sort of a metaphor for their relationship, and also really sad and scary, but is overshadowed by the huge giant Jamiroquai claw Ludwig pulls out of the scar as she's digging her little gnome fingers into the wound. It's so gross! Sookie's hurting so much that her breathing is just a whistle, like the ghost of a scream.
With which we jump to Jason, who's at Jesus Camp, waking up with the cold sweats and also screaming. He laughs at himself and falls back into bed, but who's to him? Naked? Good old Eddie, which is par for the course with Jason. "You're so warm," Eddie moans. "And I'm so cold!" Jason starts freaking out, and Eddie makes a very good point, which is that if Jason loved Eddie, and he did, and if Jason is still in post-traumatic mourning for Eddie, which he is, then why the eff is Jason hanging at the Waco compound of hating vampires? Jason doesn't really formulate a plausible or logical response, mostly just screaming you're fucking dead over and over, so Eddie caresses him for a moment sweetly, then goes in for the bite.
With which we jump to Jason, who's at Jesus Camp, waking up with the cold sweats and also screaming. He puts his hands together in actual prayer and begs God to help him out, because he's completely lost track of right and wrong, and since whatever usual foggy-headed methods Jason uses to figure out what is going on around him are not working, he's actually sort of going nuts at this point. "Please give me another sign, because I'm lost, I'm so fucking lost..." God, notoriously a reticent communicator, has no real answer. Or maybe he does. "There's your sign," yells the Lukinator, throwing a pillow at him to shut him up. Jason finally pulls it together, sort of, and pulls his blanket up and tries to lie down, but hits his head on the windowsill and whines to himself, like a child.
Ludwig's done, and tells Bill he can feed Sookie now if he wants. He pops fang and Eric grabs his arm, offering to do it himself because he's older and stronger, and Bill's like, "Ah will never allow one such as you" or whatever, and Eric laughs at him and backs off. Bill feeds her and she goes to town, as Eric says goodbye to Dr. Ludwig. "Fuck off!" she yells over her shoulder, which also makes Eric laugh. "She's no fan of the fang. She tolerates us, because our blood is of such great value to healers." Sookie comes conscious, groaning and sucking the hell out of Bill's arm to the point where Eric's like, "You'll overcook her!" So Bill pulls out, with five different kinds of o-face happening, and she looks up at him just covered in blood, all over her face, and thanks him sweetly, and he tenderly lays her head back down so she can rest. They are a very sweet couple sometimes.
Pam and Chow return, to report that they've found nothing. Human tracks, "filthy" animal smell, nothing they recognized. Eric sends them to ask around, and Pam scowls, arms akimbo, with leaves and shit in her hair and mud all over her shoes. "Pam? Those were great pumps," he grins, which makes Chow smile, but Pam not so much.
Alone again with Eric, Bill doesn't want to move Sookie yet, and Eric offers to take care of her. Of course, Bill's not going anywhere, so Eric offers him Longshadow's coffin for the night. Which is interesting. Not hugely interesting, but interesting, because that's so Eric: "You can sleep in the bed of that dude you killed, if you want. No hard feelings or anything, considering you paid out the ass for doing it already. It's kind of messy because he liked to eat in bed, but whatever." Like, why would that be weird now? Bill makes a point of thanking Eric for his hospitality -- Is that Bill etiquette or vampire etiquette? He's so mannered and stilted and dramatic it could be either -- and for saving Sookie. "I'm sure there's a way she can repay me," Eric smiles, looking him in the eye, and Bill realizes this is like yet another reason she's going to Dallas.
There's stuff floating in the stew that Karl is making. I think I see corn, and ears. He serves Maryann a bit on a spoon and she slurps it: "That's delicious, Karl. Could use a little more juniper, don't you think?" Karl, needing to please her right now so she doesn't beat him up again, agrees vociferously. She's arranging roses when Tara comes down in her robe, and she says she's having a party. Who knows how many people are coming? They laugh, because that's all they do is laugh. Maryann offers breakfast, and Tara's just asking for coffee instead when Karl hands her some. "I don't think I'll ever get used to people just doing things for me without me even asking," Tara says, and Maryann laughs, rolling a joint. "Well, Karl knows that if he wants to find real fulfillment in life, he need to learn to be of service. So everything he does for us is really a selfish act."
Which, I can get there for sure. Except again, not really the point, because firstly that's an ugly way to say that, and secondly it becomes very Tim Hunter Circe Tattoo, with the whole pig thing. And again: Gods need worship, so whatever. But you have to be very clear in a setup like that to be sure everybody knows it's a choice, or else you're not really gaining any insight. Like Jesus washing the feet, or Hestia's temple, or those nuns that wash the courtyard flagstones every day: They're doing it as a sacrament. Putting aside their pride and comfort for the good of others, and serving with their hands. And that's the most amazing, beautiful thing in the world to me. But if you forget for a second that you're doing it as a sacrament, then you're just on your knees.
After a beat, Tara asks Maryann, why Sam hates her, and she makes a hilariously fake sad frowny face, like, completely innocent and bothered: "Sam hates me?" Tara explains about the whole blowup last night, but doesn't mention the fact that he spits every time Tara starts with Maryann's particular kind of Ayn Randian self-belief agenda. Maryann offers the theory that it's because they used to date. "Still not valuing yourself. You are a fantastic woman. Sam lost you. He's just looking for someone to blame," she says, licking what is turning out to be a very impressive joint.
But, Tara wonders, still: why Maryann? Obviously because Tara's "moved on," and obviously because Maryann's "been a part of making that happen." She shifts into better-than-Sam mode, inviting Tara into it, sighing: "Sam seems like a sensitive, wonderful guy, but all my instincts scream... 'unevolved'." Tara laughs, although she doesn't know the joke hiding inside that statement, and agrees that he has too many issues. "And they are not your problem," Maryann reminds her. "Unlike Karl, you've done enough taking care of people to last a lifetime." She holds out the giant joint, which Tara is tickled to see includes a filter. "Little technique I picked up in Ibiza. Adorable, isn't it?" (I love how whenever anybody says "Ibiza," everybody in the room laughs, because it sounds retarded but especially so when the person is jetsetty/Europretentious like old Maryann.) She holds out one of those big ornate silver table-lighters that looks like a Nouveau grenade, and Tara sighs. "Oh, fuck it. I don't have to be at work till four."
Terry Bellefleur drives up listening to banjo music; Sam's carrying box after box out to his truck. They talk about how Sam's going to be doing some traveling, not sure where, and Terry mentions that although he hasn't been a lot of places, the places he's been all sort of sucked and turned him crazy. I can see that casting a pall over future travels, yeah. Sam asks him to take care of the bar, just until he gets back, which he never is. And I feel like this is partly Sam worrying that without him to take care of Terry, nobody will take care of Terry, and this way he'll be able to take care of Terry forever, by essentially giving him the bar, which is... For some reason that conversation about the raccoon penis is still the saddest thing in the world to me. I completely understand Sam's need to take care of Terry now.
So Terry is not feeling it, because that's a lot of responsibility, and says that he's not a great choice. Sam says he can't find Sookie, and Lafayette's been gone for weeks, and Arlene's got kids and grieving to deal with, and Tara's "going through some personal stuff," so it's him. Or I guess Daphne, but that just means Bon Temps would come burning down around their shoulders ahead of schedule, so Terry. "Feeling the pressure," Terry says nervously, kicking at the dirt, but Sam knows that it's the kind of pressure that will make him focus. "You're all I got. Do it for me, buddy?" Terry agrees and Sam puts him on the shoulder and says he'll hand over the keys later. And then Terry does that thing he does.
"So you're just gonna cut and run," Terry says, suddenly angry. "Just like that." Sam swears he's not running, and Terry spits. "Uh-huh. Remind me never to get stuck in a foxhole with you." He stares Sam down, getting into his truck with the banjo music again, peeling out, leaving Sam feeling worse than ever: "Coward."
There's maybe 20 people in the Jesus Camp circle, listening to an ex-fangbanger who may or may not even be one, hair all a mess and unbrushed, a billion bites all over her skin, crying, anxious. "He used me up. Till he got bored, and then he left me to die. I thought he loved me, but I was nothing but his living, breathing, snack machine!" Sarah thanks her, Missy is her name, and calls her "brave," and prays His holy light et cetera. Everybody randomly goes, "Praise the light!" and Jason does the whole churchy thing where he says the words a second after everybody else. Sarah asks him if he's got anything to add, and he begs off, but she asks him if he's wearing his honesty ring. He holds it up, sad, like she backed him into some rhetorical corner, and she nods. He prefaces his thoughts by pointing out that they run counter to their entire belief system, but she assures him that he's safe, smiling widely, hugely. She has the biggest, brightest teeth in the universe.
"...I ain't a vampire victim. The fact is, they have never done nothing against me. My sister's dating one, and from everything I can tell, he seems to treat her pretty decent. Well, except for the biting. But I think she likes that?" There are grumbles and some dude almost barfs, but Sarah tells them to chill, asking Jason to go on.
"Um. My girlfriend, she staked a vampire right in front of me. His name was Eddie, and he was gay? But he... He was a real nice person." Sarah gets intense, reminding him that Eddie wasn't "a person." She points at Missy's neck: "A person wouldn't do that, would they?" It only strengthens Jason's resolve, and he speaks more firmly: "Well, my Gran, and my girlfriend, were killed by my best friend. Just because he had a problem with vampires. And he was a person." (Several, in fact.)
Sarah feels the temporary power shift in the room, and cuts almost-angry eyes at him, like, "Why are you fucking ruining this?" And while it's compelling anyhow, it's also pretty intense to think about how all of this happened like a month ago. He's just like Missy: an object lesson, a person still living in the middle of his horror. He takes one look at that cold gaze and immediately all the feelings of love, belonging, all that drains away and he's sad again. "Look, I'm only here because I thought God wanted me to be. Thought maybe He had a purpose for me, some shit like that." He stands up. "Beginning to see that was just wishful thinking," he says, and leaves the circle.
Sarah chases him out on the porch, desperate to keep him close, and asks him to just talk to her, work it out, give her something to work out. He swears there's nothing to talk about, so she starts with the obvious: "The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about this one. I knew the Lord had sent you to me, but it wasn't till today that I knew why." You can see everything, every single thing he thinks or feels or has ever thought or felt, on his face. This is the easy part: "Because we're so much alike. We want to see the best in others so badly that sometimes we overlook the worst."
"That kind of does sound like me," he agrees, which is half true. If you look at it in that hateful, small way, then yes: he's naïve. But that's just the Light of Day fallacy: to love the light, you must hate the darkness. Which is just a way of opting out of being present for anything, just like any dogma. It's lazy, and it harms you in the long run. Here's an analogy: If a gay guy sleeps with a woman, he's still gay, right? No question. But if a straight guy sleeps with a man, he's gay. Automatically, no exceptions. It's tilted that way: Open the gate, and all the evidence comes sliding down into the gay part of the box. It's a fall from imaginary grace, and you can't get back. (This is also the reason I love Jessica the most, after Jason: she's the only one that's lived both absolutes. Total asceticism, total abandon. She's the only person who can consciously make the choice, and has the horrific, hard-won training to be sensible about it. She was homeschooled in just this balance.)
In the same way, Amy was awesome in some ways, deeply not-awesome in other ways. Maryann too. The Light of Day fallacy says, then, that nothing Amy or Maryann ever says or does is of merit: you put a big old X over their face and move on. That's lazy and stupid, and people aren't like that, because nobody is able to keep everything on the top of the mountain all the time. I daresay even the Newlins have something to teach us, too, although we haven't seen it yet.
So when Jason said you love the whole person or else it's not love, he was talking about this thing. And only Jason -- and Sookie, later in this episode, with Bill -- seems concerned about that, about taking charge of your own reactions in that way. Which is why he's my favorite, because nothing freaks me out as fast as watching somebody let half the world wither away like that, and at least he's struggling with it. It's the same reason V made him want to fuck in the dirt: the loss of categories. Crossing state lines, into other territories. He doesn't have the words, and Sookie only has them with Bill because of her disorder, but that's what they're dealing with: loving the person and not the acts.
And while that can be dangerous, I would point out that we should never fall into a position where self-determination and self-protection are something we posit. Those things are automatic before you enter the conversation. So keeping in mind self-worth and survival, I think the major danger of the Light of Day fallacy is the easy avenue it gives you to hand over your darker shit to somebody else, and hate them for it. Classic scapegoating: they're not people, the Newlins say, so it's fine to hate them. Which is incredibly damaging, because "them" is not "you," and actually it's always you. And the reason Jason drags Eddie along everywhere he goes is that he instinctively knows that: whatever reasons he had for fearing or hating Eddie didn't originate with Eddie, and weren't valid.
And while this is a conversation Sookie's going to try to have out loud later, I would also point out the danger for our friends Tara and Sam. Tara spent all of last season unable to reconcile this shit with Lettie Mae. How can you love someone who abused you like that? You don't love them for abusing you, you love them regardless, because love isn't about them, it's about you, and your ability to love. Not, again, offering yourself for further abuse, or approving or supporting their behavior, because that's about them. But the part where you don't harbor your hate, or cuddle up close to it at night, or start a cult around it, that's on you. And as Maryann tears out her mothers' hearts, she's doing the same to Tara, by saying that loving yourself is the same as hating others. That making allowances for pleasure means showering in someone's sweat, or fucking in the garbage.
Sarah offers a little story, which may or may not be true. If it's not true, then Sarah Newlin is awesomely evil and a genius. But if it is true, that's a big step toward not demonizing the Newlins, because we don't live in a universe where cartoonishly evil people do cartoonishly hateful things: everybody has a reason. That's what makes this show good. "When the vampires came out of the coffin, I went with my big sister Amber to march for their equal rights," Sarah begins, sad and embarrassed. Jason's surprised. Her face goes dark: "Two months later, Amber disappeared. Got hooked on V. I know they killed her. Got rid of her body in whatever way they do..." He apologizes, because he knows their ways well enough to know that saying he's not a vampire victim is the same thing as saying Amber's better off. "They stole my sister, Jason. The same way they stole your girlfriend and grandmother. And I know you believe Eddie was your friend, but think about it: If his kind never existed, the people you love would still be alive."
Which is logically true, technically, and having taken the struts out of the one thing that has kept Jason alive for years at this point -- his belief that a person's worth is always higher than the value of their darkest sin -- strands him in a weird part of the forest. "You're saying... If I hadn't been too messed up to protect them, that they'd still be here?" And while this is good, in that self-esteem is one thing that keeps people out of cults, she's supposed to be building him up right now: "No! You're just human! But vampires? Everything they are, down to their very blood, is seductive." Which he knows, from every angle; which pulled him once down the same path as Drew Marshall. Which he knows from every angle, because he still wants it. That feeling, in the sun and the rain, watching Amy soar.
"God. Ah. I should have done something. Could have saved Gran, Amy... All of them..." Sarah runs to him, feeling him come closer again. "I know how much it hurts. Trust me, that's why... If we can protect even one family from this kind of suffering, then all the loved ones we've lost, their deaths won't have been for nothing." He admits, suddenly, that he sometimes wishes he were dead, too. Perfect. She jumps on that. "God needs you! No. No, you don't have to carry this alone anymore. Give yourself to His light. Let Him carry this pain for you." And now she's got him, because that's not something anybody ever offered him before, besides Amy. They drop to their knees, on the Light of Day porch. "Heavenly Father, bless Jason, and protect his sister, and all those who are still out there, lost in the darkness..."
Sookie wakes up on a long leather ottoman, wearing her panties and a big red t-shirt ("Life begins at night"), in the middle of Fangtasia! It looks really small in the daytime. She checks out her back in the mirror, and Ginger comes running in with "A tubetop sandwich: Peanut butter and chocolate syrup!" I almost became a volcano my own self when she said that, but maybe it'll be good if Sookie can choke it down. Sugar, carbs, protein. In the grossest, fakest, most Gingeresque packaging. Sookie thanks her, awkwardly. "That's the thing about being with vamps, ain't it? You always forget to eat," Ginger laughs, totally upsetting as usual. "I've lost 37 pounds since I got this job!" All of it MARBLES.
Ginger cleans up the post-Ludwig TruBloods on one small table, and Sookie asks her if they "make" her stay there every day. "Well, sometimes I just come in for deliveries, but these days I've been coming in for..." she laughs awkwardly and tries to effect an immediate escape, but Sookie's on it: Oh my God I almost told her about her friend Lafayette in the basement Eric says I can't tell her...
Which, now that Eric's decided not to kill Lafayette, or turn him, is the most effective way of letting Sookie know about him, isn't it? Tell Ginger not to think about the elephant in the room, and then send her in to talk to the psychic girl. Just in case he needs six or seven more kinds of leverage to get her to Dallas, maybe. Sookie snatches at her, demanding to know what's up, and of course Ginger thinks about that gun, so Sookie grabs that, too, and Ginger screams her stupid ass off like always.
Down in the basement, Sookie is not practicing gun safety, while Ginger just sort of wiggles around being weird, and there he is, all alone, looking like shit. Not, Sookie tells him, like a vampire, which he decides is probably best. She yells at Ginger to uncuff him, and Ginger shrieks for a bit but can't, so Sookie just promises she'll get him out.
Eggs plays guitar for the guests, who've arrived. Tara comes into the living room with a glass of wine and the audience scatters. Tara congratulates him on his talents, which of course means we get another one of those Maryann speeches from Eggs like Tara's always spouting. Fuck my legless grandmother already. "I love music, I just wasted most of my life trying to avoid doing the shit I love the most. I guess I just felt like, um... If I was good at something, it's probably just a waste of time, and if it felt good I probably didn't deserve it." Which is, of course, bad, and the nice part of Maryann world, but turning it around and running headlong into abandon is the downside. If the first season was about death, and the dangers of too much life were V, this year that's Maryann. She's like V times a billion.
"A couple days after, um, Maryann took me in, she put this guitar in my hands? And I cried like a fucking baby. Was the first time in my life anybody's actually ever encouraged me to do anything, so." Tara's eyes well up and she jokes, "Only thing my mama ever encouraged me to learn was how to pour whisky." They laugh, but it reminds her that she was supposed to be at work 45 minutes ago. She cackles. Maryann's having a party, and Eggs is on his fourth drink -- "I think one DUI between us is enough," she jokes -- and besides, "I am way too fucked up to deal with Sam Merlotte right now." And if Sam fires her, fuck that, too. "I go through [jobs] about as fast as I go through relationships," she says, and Eggs takes the opening: "Maybe you haven't found the right one yet." Charming! Aww. And then they kiss.
Bill comes in with a huge, sweet, relieved smile and throws himself on Sookie, which she accepts gratefully, but with an asterisk in her eyes. She can't possibly be mad about their Jessica fight still, and he assures her none of that matters at all, which is I guess a pretty good apology for calling her a child, but she's done being mad about that. Because now it's all about vampires and how they suck, and not the good way. "You're right, I'm alive and in one piece. Unlike my friend Lafayette, who Eric chained up like an animal and left to bleed to death!" Of course -- because what isn't a pretext for them to lecture each other about basic shit? -- she goes off. "You better not have known anything about this, Bill Compton, because if you did, I don't think I could ever forgive you!" He is, of course, bumfuzzled. We need a superhero to explain it!
"The human that traded sexual services with a vampire in order to sell his blood," Eric says, suddenly appearing and looking awesome. "Which, as you know, is a grave offense." Sookie zooms over to yell up at him, and she's soooo tiny and he's sooo big and it's sooo awesome. She's like the Owen Meany of rural New Orleans. "HIS NAME IS LAFAYETTE AND YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO HIM." Then there is a huge slap, which almost gives Bill the vapors, and everybody -- including Sookie, who hides it well -- assumes that Sookie is about to be eaten, starting with her head.
"I'm glad you're feeling better," Eric says, after letting her twist for a while, and compliments the bright red t-shirt's flattering color, because vampires are gross and don't draw lines between sex and food so he's calling her vampbait just for wearing red. She tells him to go to hell, and Bill is once more horrified, but Sookie Meany is not done. "OH IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH THEY'VE TORTURED HIM AND BITTEN HIM AND SHOT HIM AND KEPT HIM DOWN THERE IN HIS OWN FILTH FOR WEEKS." She refuses to look away from Eric, who reminds Bill that there are plenty who would and have done worse. Which is not the point, and anyway it's a little too close to the FOL fallacy for me. Sookie starts yelling about how Eric best fix this or else, and finally he snaps.
"I do not respond well to threats," Eric says, fanging right up in Sookie's face, and she shivers. He chills out immediately, although the fangs aren't going anywhere, and makes her an offer, with a crooked smile. Please, like she wasn't already going to Dallas. I guess he's just really that desperate to find Godric. I wonder why that is, don't you?
Sam is contrite on the phone, and just generally calmed down, because it's his last night in town and he wants to see his girls. Luckily for Tara, he thinks her no-show act is a direct result of their fight last night, for which he takes responsibility, which is awesome, because normally people only blame themselves entirely for your bullshit if you're Sookie Stackhouse. "Look, Tara, I know you're smart and you're tough, and you can take care of yourself. And that's all I'm asking you to do. Okay? Just keep your eyes open. And take a good look at the people around you. And be careful, okay? Just be careful." That is a really good way to say it! Good boy, Sam. (Who's a good boy?) He hangs up just as Arlene's running in.
"I know, I know I'm late, I'm sorry, Lisa decided to give Coby a nose piercing, like she saw on America's Top Model, now he's got an infection, so..." Sam laughs, thrilled to see her one last time, and tells her it's okay. "Just go ahead and get changed." She asks him if he's okay, and he smiles sweetly. "Yeah, everything's fine. I thought, uh, Sookie's supposed to be working tonight?" She was, and as Arlene explains, his smile falls sadly. "Lord knows I owe her one after... You know." He does. "Nice and understanding looks good on you, Sam!" True. Also: the color brown, most plaids, all jeans, nudity, and that one look where it looks like he's bravely trying not to cry.
Arlene takes off, and he stands at the bar he's losing, because he's losing everything, and now he can't say goodbye to Sookie or Tara, the two people he wanted to see most tonight. He looks at the pictures over the register, which we already know is a charmed place for him, a place for memories, and he smiles sadly at Sookie, and says goodbye. ...And there's that look now.
Jessica wakes up in the hideyhole, to a strange sound like pigeons cooing, maybe because the Compton house is a huge drama queen of atmospheric decay and probably supports an entire ecosystem, and she comes out into the house, calling for Bill in a beautiful yellow and white dress. Coming around the corner, she gets excited -- maybe Sookie's in the parlor, waiting on Bill -- and calls out Sookie's name affectionately, skipping into the room, but she's not there either. She stares all around, all alone, with Sookie possibly dying and Bill paying so much attention to her, and misses them. She plays one key on the piano, and the tone fills the house. She looks around, and suddenly feels left out, pissed off and lonely and overlooked. She smashes the keys with one palm, and heads the fuck out of there...
Into Merlotte's, to the tune of "Sex & Candy," which is a song I never liked and now will always love. She looks 50 times more beautiful than she ever did, with the hair and her peachy white skin; she smiles at the men one by one, drinking in their gazes. She spots Hoyt, and he spots her, and she smiles, nervously. She sits down, picking up a menu to hide her face, and they both privately geek out. He's transfixed. She thinks to herself, and he talks to himself, practicing, and finally stands up.
"You mind if I join you? I mean, if you're alone." His eyes sparkle: she's alone. He sits down, tentative and excited, and she stares at him as he introduces himself, the jugular throbbing, magnified, with his excitement. She pulls her eyes to his face and tells him her name. "So this might sound kind of funny, but I was just sitting there thinking, 'How come you don't ever meet a nice girl, Hoyt?' And then you just walked right in."
It's so nice, because last year when they did the Vampire Marriage Amendment and he said he wanted a nice vampire girl they cut right to Jessica, because duh, except we didn't know how nice she was, or how many ways she could be, or how young she was. Or how good, or how smart, or how long she'd been terrified of her own body, how long she'd been practicing control. But for Hoyt, I mean, she's tailor-made. Virgin/vampire, sheltered/exploring, with a heart made for love. Sex and candy, all at once. Just like him.
"How do you know I'm a nice girl?" Because of her smile, he says, and she obliges. She's never been so lovely. "I watch people all the time. You see... Oh, like that!" he exclaims, hushed and in awe. "That's beautiful." She's steps ahead of him, already afraid, but he's on a roll. "I could just... I could stare at that all day long!"
She nods to herself. "Day. Yeah, right." She laughs at herself like Juliet, watching Romeo leave with the Montague boys. Fuck me for even wishing.
He rushes to apologize, if he's said something wrong, and his heart speeds up, and her eyes are drawn again to that slight pitter-pat, the swelling just below his face, that interrupts her vision. It means life, so far back you can't even remember why you want it so badly, and the girl will clear her throat: "My eyes are up here?" And for a moment you'll feel like a predator, caught out, and you'll try to fit it back together: the eyes, and the body, and the mind behind the face, and see her as a person again, like a Magic Eye. I hated that song because it seemed all about this fall from grace, falling from candy down to just sex; about objectification, defiling something lovely. But now it means something different. It means loving the whole person, keeping focused on the gestalt of them, or else it's not love.
She stares at the vein and promises he's not offended her. "Okay," he blabbers, "Okay, good, because I don't wanna... Scare you away... Would you like a drink or something? Or food? Um, you hungry?" Yes, she is. So hungry. She forces her gaze to his face again. "You should try the chicken fried steak, because it's, uh, oh... It's like a chicken and a steak got together, and ... Made a baby." She stares at him, the amazing words that come out of him sometimes: "This delicious, crispy baby, and um..." He laughs at himself, striking out, he can feel it in the air. He's so beautiful, and sweet, and embarrassed; he's so brave.
She can be that brave, at least. "I'll just have a bottle of ... TruBlood?" His eyes slowly, delicately raise, and she shrugs, apologizing. Waiting to see what he says. "B+?" She casts her eyes down, bravery failing her, and he says it so quietly, like a breath or a prayer. "You're a vampire? For real?" Afraid to disturb the night. Her mouth goes firm with bravery, and she meets his gaze. Trying to keep her back straight, before he shouts or hits or does what he's going to do. Praying for one more second before the fairytale ends, and they go back to the natural way of things. Not even allowing herself to hope.
He smiles, before he speaks. Completely unaware of her fear, her discomfort, her sadness, so intent is he on not fucking this up. Not letting this beautiful creature out of his sight. Not blowing it. "Wow," he says, and whispers. "Wow. That is... awesome." It makes me cry every time. They are the best actors on the planet, I guess, because that is what love is. That's what it should be like: I have this thing, you're going to hate me now/Coincidentally, I love your thing. Every time's the first time. Jessica picks at her lips; she feels that guilt we all know, when something good actually happens. That sense of mystery that you can actually have something you want, like the world opening up around you. Any house could be Maryann's house. "Bottle of TruBlood, coming right up!"
Bill doesn't love the idea of Sookie buying Lafayette's freedom with the Dallas thing, pointing out that she nearly died last night, but A) she's fine now, and B) don't fucking tell me what to do. Eric promises to pay for the trip and let Lafayette go, and she immediately tells him she wants five grand on top of it. Bill's shocked, but she points out between the constant dying of everybody and the constant demands of his family, she's missed a lot of work. "And I need a driveway!" Eric grins that she's getting cocky, so to get control of things again, Bill ups the price to ten, and says he's going with. Eric demurs, but Sookie agrees with these new terms, so Eric yells into the intercom and admires the fact that she's capable of surprising him, especially as a breather. "YOU DISGUST ME," she spits, and he suggests that perhaps he'll grow on her. "I'D PREFER CANCER," she coughs, and Eric whatevers to Bill that they need to bounce ASAP. "Ah will make the travel arrangements, but Ah will need yore credit card number," Bill says, which is hilarious in that way that Bill is always hilarious.
Pam unceremoniously tosses Lafayette onto his face at the door to Eric's office, and whines that she wanted to keep him. I can totally see that. Not as a sex thing, but just because she has that dark sense of humor and an appreciation for interesting people. Eric's like, "Nah, you have too many pets already," and Lafayette looks up at her from the rumbled mess of burnt and scarred parts that was once his body. "No offense, but you ain't exactly my type, bitch." I can see how that might come off rude, so it makes sense that Pam asks if she can kick him there on the floor, and Bill gets 'tude about it, and then I guess Chow zooms to Bon Temps to bring Bill's car back to Shreveport. Vampires are fast, right?
Eric kneels at Lafayette's side, tracing a finger lazily along his arm. "I'll see you around, I'm sure." Bet on it. "Don't bet on it, baby," Lafayette chokes. "I'm retiring. I'm done with you crazy-ass fuckers. Done." Eric winks at him in a powerfully sexy way, and Bill takes him out the door. Something about his grin, I think, makes Sookie look at him in a new way -- Did he really do this? Did he really set this whole thing up? -- but leaves without yelling more stuff.
They're drinking Karl's stew like wine. Who knows what's in there. Dancing, sweat, boobs as the shirts start coming off. Coroner Mike Spencer and horny barfly Jane Bodehouse are dancing. That's a nice couple. Tara spots Andy entering, looking confused and disappointed as usual, and snorts. "Right when I thought this party couldn't get any fucking weirder, look who shows up." She leans back in the hot tub with Eggs, and rolls her eyes. "Thinking Andy Bellefleur got better shit to do. Like, I dunno, solve a murder?" Eggs points out that Andy's not the only one who skived off work to be at this party, and she laughs, splashing him. "You're just too damn distracting!" They giggle and play.
Andy jumps away from some rogue boobs poolside, backing into Mike and Jane, who laugh. It's scary for everybody, but especially Andy. Jane yells at Mike to keep dancing, and he motorboats her wildly: "Jane Bodehouse, you are one fiery little hellcat!" That's a thing once seen can't be undone, but I love the whole swinger thing, because the PR is that it's all these amazing hairless people and the guys have mustaches but you know the reality is Mike Spencer's pot belly and Jane Bodehouse's flopping breasts. I mean, sex is sex and nobody's perfect, but what I think is really remarkable is certain situations, like when you're in love for one example, or for another random example a wild Bacchanalian orgy, in which the two things are the same thing. Those postal workers and whatever are beautiful to each other, and if a fat old swinger fucked you in the forest and nobody was there to see it, you're as lovely as you wanna be. So there's at least three different ways to look at this, but the most sensible I think is Andy's approach, which is to flee.
In one corner of Maryann's yard there's a little garden house, like a playhouse or Wendy's house of leaves, with foliage growing up over it. It's lovely. Andy leans in and sees the big red pig, and his eyes get wide. "What you doing in there, Pig?" Heh. I wish he'd talked to the pig longer, but Maryann appears and welcomes him to the party. He says, and who knows, that there have been noise complaints. "Oh. And they sent their best detective to deal with it? Well, I am flattered. But Sheriff Dearborne should really put your talents to better use." God, I love Maryann. Andy nods, and she promises perfectly sweetly to turn off the music. She looks especially great, of course: hair up, strings of jewels through it and a little hanging down, like a Roman goddess.
"Hate to be a party pooper, but you got a livestock permit for that pig?" Maryann laughs and asks what Andy's talking about, but the pig is of course gone. She giggles at him and asks if he's been drinking, and he gets red-faced and swears he's a good cop. She awws and throws her arms around him. "Of course you are, everybody knows that!" She holds out a glass of champagne, and insists he relax. How long his sobriety? How long did it take for her to raze it again? Sobriety is the monster of Maryann. Might as well just kill her. But he's an addict, he's one of hers. "Just one. I am on the clock." She laughs, and pulls him toward the party, affectionate and beautiful and wise. "Come on!" She's a force of nature. She won't be blocked, or undermined.
"Yes. God is love. He's the force of love. But how do we respond to forces that block, undermine and destroy love?" (Um, tear out their hearts as tribute? Just a thought.) Steve Newlin sits in his beautiful house, wearing a soft cream sweater over his shoulders, explaining things to Jason. "Well, you cannot love evil. You have to hate it. So hating evil is really... Loving good." Jason parrots it back, once: "...Good."
"Hate isn't just natural, Jason. We need it in order to survive. My father dedicated his life to God. To protecting the human race. They murdered him, his wife, and my baby sister in cold blood." Steve's eyes are wet, and he's shaking. Jason's drawn in. "They're baby-killers. That's what they're capable of. Now, if I didn't hate vampires, and do everything in my power to avenge my family's death, what kind of man would I be?"
Well, according to the conversation Jason had with himself on the porch earlier, a pretty bad one. Like Jason is. "And what's going on out there is a war," Steve continues, and of course Jason jumps in his chair and turns toward the French doors. "Not right now, Jason," and I'm impressed with Steve's ability to not slap him in his little face for that one, "But in general. And we've all got to choose sides. Now, you're either on the side of darkness, or the side of light." Jason parrots it back again: "...Light."
There's no in-between. Sarah enters with the banana pudding, and Steve slavers over it, calling it a "little slice of heaven," and she giggles and tells him not to brag in front of company, and he tells her to stop being "such an angel" and he will, and they laugh, and Jason grins because they're so totally queer, and he loves it. He's like a little boy with them. He's like Tara. Sarah goes for whipped cream, and he watches her ass as he leaves. He's like that, too. He shakes his head at himself. "Whoo," Steve goes, "My wife must think you're pretty special. Sarah doesn't whip out her pudding for just anybody!" Jason doesn't know what to do with that one, and it's awesome. Steven sips his wine and shifts into preacher mode, asking Jason if he can feel all the great things God has in store for him. And suddenly, Jason can.
I don't know enough about music to say why, but the song that plays as Jessica opens the door to the Compton house and lets Hoyt in, it seems like a minor or junior variation on the cello song that always plays for Bill and Sookie. It's lighter, more romantic, brighter, cleaner; it sounds like Friday Night Lights. "I always wanted to see the inside of Vampire Bill's house!" he says, and stares back at her. "You get to live here?" She nods, regretfully, and points out that it's full of his "creepy old stuff," not to mention -- in that mirthfully woeful tone she sometimes uses -- "And he makes me sleep in a hole..."
Hoyt nods. "My mama keeps her doll collection in my closet." They laugh, and he spots Bill's videogames. "Oh, you got a Wii?" She's horrified, as he runs to the couch, wondering what gross boy thing he's pulling now. "You never played a Wii?" He pats the couch to himself, alive with glee. "Oh, you'll love it!"
"Yeah, so you can race cars, um, or you can play tennis, or you can..." She sits down, looking at him, and he smiles to himself. "You can dance? Uh, or you can shoot people?" She's breathless. "I've never done any of that." He offers to show her, and puts the controllers in her hands. So she kisses him, and he kisses back, and their music plays, and everything is perfect. He moves to her neck, and she closes her eyes. And pops fang, right there. She gasps and pulls away, covering her mouth.
There is a moment where he's weirded out. Just a tiny little moment. And then he remembers where he is, and who he is, and who she is, and he just looks right past it. "No, no, don't do that!" he says in a hush, pulling her hand away from her mouth. "You don't have to hide that from me. That's natural." And as much as I love Hoyt, and Jessica, and their love, and this delirious approach to teen dating with the surprise girl boners on the couch and the boy daring himself to be penetrated and her getting his shirt off him and all this stuff, I'm mostly happy that somebody told her that. It took 17 years, but somebody finally said it:
Purity is a very powerful fiction. It's been keeping women in their place as long as there have been women. We covet it, because we are convinced that joy and complexity can't coexist. That to keep the candy, you can't have the sex. But the funny thing about purity is that it's always defined as an absence, as a lack. No taint, no complexity, no fear, no shame; whatever it is, purity denotes specifically an absence. It's negative space. And the thing you hope they learn is that, like any other empty page, it's worthless once you've written something, and realized there was never a point in purity. That sex and candy aren't opposites, it's not a choice you make, or a hill you go slipping down from grace: they're just two more ways we can get to pleasure. That the fight isn't about preserving purity, but in finding joy.
"How can you say that? I mean, I have fangs! And they just come out! And I can't control them, and..." He's so sweet, but it makes it worse. "This is so embarrassing," she moans. "I'd die if I wasn't already dead!" He shakes his head, insisting that she listen: "Don't be embarrassed about what you are. Because what you are is great." Hoyt, the way he says this, is sex and candy to some caffeinated, barely bearable, husky, adoring extreme never before captured on film. "You think I'm great?" she says, amazed, and he nods. "I like you. I like you a lot." He holds her hands and says that's why they should wait before moving on, and just see what this is like for awhile. But because it's Jessica -- my God, because it's Hoyt -- she throws that plan the fuck out and jumps him, fangs out and proud.
Bill parks outside Lafayette's house as Sookie begs him to let them help, but Lafayette just wants to lock himself inside and have his uncle deal with the bullet wound in the morning. "Your uncle the veterinarian?" Sookie spouts, and he's like, "He chops off steer nuts for a living? He can handle a few stitches." He reassures her for about a million years -- "Is she always like this?" -- and tells them both that, as far as he's concerned, "I spent the last two weeks at Club Med, drinking a margarita and getting my chest waxed," asking Bill to let all the vamps know that. Sookie gets that, the desire to just completely move on and deal in your own way, so she finally leaves him alone at least long enough to get free.
And inside, before he shuts the door and locks a million locks and climbs to the couch, barely sparing his things or apartment a glance, and pulls up an old quilt around himself and lies down, exhausted and hurting and terrified and ashamed, before he even gets the door closed, he's started to cry. But eventually his breathing calms down, into deep sobs, all alone in the night. A survivor.
Bill looks over at Sookie in her reverie, and touches her shoulder. She holds his hand, and tries to explain where she's at. "I used to get so mad when people judged vampires just for being different. It's like they were judging me, too." Even before Bill, she felt that way. He looks at her face. "I told myself their fear was nothing but small-mindedness. But maybe that's just what I wanted to believe. Because the more open my mind gets, the more evil I see." But she isn't letting go of him, and that's something, so he speaks. "Sookie. Most of us -- vampyre, human or otherwise -- are capable of both good and evil. Often simultaneously." See, Bill gets it. He just doesn't think it applies to him. Or to Jessica.
"YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT ERIC'S CAPABLE OF ANYTHING GOOD, NOT AFTER HOW HE TORTURED LAFAYETTE." Bill notes that he's had plenty of even worse Sheriffs, and she yells at him for defending Eric, but this isn't really about Eric. It's about vampires, plural, vampires as "them," and Bill's just the Eddie she's schlepping along while she tries to figure that out. "He saved your life. I can still hate him. I hate that he may be putting you in harm's way, once again for his own selfish reasons." And for showing her the barbarity of vampire justice. "If I could glamour it away for you, I would," he says. Like that's nice and not totally fucking creepy. Sookie explains that it's a good thing that her boyfriend can't rape her brain, but only insofar as the fact that she's tired of the element of surprise that often accompanies catastrophe.
"I'm sick of things sneaking up on me. René? And whatever the hell that was that attacked me last night? If I'm never gonna be safe, I'd rather know what to be afraid of." He touches her hair, putting on the charm, and hopes aloud that it doesn't include him. She smiles, trying to touch that thing Jason knows and can't express: "I know there's darkness in you. I know there is. And it scares the life out of me. But you're right. There's goodness in you, too. And when I look in your eyes, that's what I see." And the really funny thing about life is that it's true for every single person, thing, movie or entity: looking them in the eye is just a test of your own compassion, and what you see there says more about you than it ever could about "them."
Tara is feeling fabulous, touching Eggs everywhere, as they kiss. A woman with giant fake boobs shows up and asks to join them; Tara grins like there's a joke the lady isn't in on, and then a little harder when she realizes the girl's actually going to join their little party. "You guys are so beautiful," she says, like there were fake tits at Woodstock, and they laugh; she's a licensed massage therapist, and offers a free round. Eggs obligingly slides over, surprising Tara, and the woman goes to work on him. And while he's moaning, in the hot tub, as his knots uncoil, Tara takes another bemused look around the party, focusing on another level at what's going on.
The music is loud. They're dancing, grinding. Mike and Jane are rolling around on the ground. One woman dry humps a man. A fat man without benefit of pants goes dancing by, flopping in the hot summer breeze. None of the women are wearing shirts as they dance. Maryann, laughing in a forest of bare breasts. This is not how things go, this is not like any party Tara's been to. And if everybody's in on it, if everybody is giving in, then this is that kind of party. She doesn't know about Maryann yet; she thinks these people's minds are their own. And that means they're not like her. Tara looks at Eggs -- eyes closed, smiling in pleasure, leaning luxuriously back into the masseuse -- and grabs her towel, scowling.
Jane's crawled on top of Mike; they both have the black eyes now, groaning like animals. Tara walks past them, on the ground; she walks past a blonde girl against a tree, eyes black, breasts free, pouring a bottle of wine into her mouth, letting it run down her face, down her neck, between her breasts, staring up at nothing, only the taste, the pleasure of it on her skin in the hot summer night. All of them beautiful, all of them terrible, all of them lost to abandon.
In the quiet, away from the music, inside the house, Eggs pursues Tara. She stops on the stairs and he tries to explain: they're all just drunk, just lost and carried away. No harm. Tara shakes her head, jealous and afraid of them all now. "Is this what Maryann's about? Are you in The Lifestyle?" He's confused, because what? "Lifestyle? Tara, that's just a bunch of drunk-ass people trying to let loose, have a good time. That's got nothing to do with us." She shakes her head: there is no "us," she tells him. Not if this is his "scene." I love how we're so relatively ungross, or over it maybe, that we don't even have words for it, so we have to use ridiculous '70s words to even get the point across. That phrase "open relationship" always makes me giggle too.
Sam turns out the last light in his trailer and grabs one last bag. He's wearing a brown T-shirt and looks fine as hell. Dean comes up wagging his tail, and Sam agrees to go for one more run through the forest, laughing, dropping his shirt as he runs.
Sookie chuckles at the Forever 21 shopping bags as they bring them in from the car. "Underneath that tough vampire exterior, you're nothing but a big softie!" He smirks. "Don't tell anybody." She looks through the bags, laughing in spite of herself, and says it's a whole lot of pink. He's immediately scared and sad, worried that he fucked up, and she gives him a sweet smile. "But I'm sure Jessica will love it." Bill starts talking about how "ladies' clothing stores" use to sell petticoats, and in his inimitable Bill way, goes around his ass to get to his elbow so he can nudge Sookie into wearing one sometime. "Actually, I kind of miss them at times. They left something to the imagination. Unfastening them required a certain skill..." She gets sexy right back at him, because well played, Bill Compton. "I think there's a Halloween store around here that might still have some..." He calls her a tease and they laugh, grateful the crisis has blown over again, and pushing into the house, kissing, leaving the bags outside.
Hoyt's on the couch, shirtless, groaning, in such a way that from the door it looks like Jessica is feeding on him. They freeze, and then Bill zooms across the room and tosses her across the room. She complains, swearing she wasn't going to bite him, which is hard for Bill to believe, but is also only half the problem here. Because the other half -- and again, this is what's so great about this episode and storyline, is that having a girl teen vampire is that it queers the whole thing, both figuratively and literally: The danger of sex, if you're boring and/or straight and think that there needs to be a victim in sex, is one thing: You have a daughter, every boy is trying to get in there, and you go crazy. Or you have a son, and you egg him on.
But if you are lucky enough to have a gay son or daughter, you're in an impossible place because A) you don't want to think about particulars, so it's hard to talk about them at all or give advice, and B) you're not sure who the sex is victimizing. Similarly, as much as this freakout is about not letting his daughter kill boys, it's also about the fact that some fucking redneck was making out with his daughter on the motherfucking couch. So Bill growls terrifyingly and pops fang at Hoyt, who stops trying to reassure Bill that he's okay and starts wondering if he is going to die after all, and Sookie's like, "Bill! Don't!"
Meanwhile Dean's barking on the pier, afraid to jump in with Sam, and he takes off, passing Daphne on the pier. "Were you just talking to that dog?" Sam asks what she's doing hanging out in the middle of the night, and she says she's trying to cool off. "And I can't sleep. See, I have this hard-ass boss, who really laid into me this week..." Sam grins and momentarily forgets that he's totally naked in front of an employee, not to mention that until about one second ago he was a dog. He laughs and says her boss sounds like a jerk. "He's not all bad. He can be real nice... to dogs..."
Sam apologizes, admitting that he's been tough lately, and has a lot on his mind, and she grins as he tries to say that she's getting the hang of waitressing, and finally laughs at him. "You're even worse at lying than you are at being a boss, Sam Merlotte!" There's a lot of jiggery-pokery where neither of them want to acknowledge the fact that she is totally getting in that lake with him, naked or in panties, and that's going to be amazing in a whole other way, so they fake their way through it and she finally just takes off her shirt. Under which, running down her back from the left shoulder to her waist, are four long deep scars, from four very large claws.
In two weeks: Jessica orders room service, Eric makes a romantic moonlight visit, and Steve makes a troubling offer. Jamiroquai is defined. Dirt is eaten.
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