Last night I dreamed that Bill and I were together again.
It seemed to me that nothing bad had ever happened in my dream. I still had Bill's yellow gold engagement ring on my finger. And when I held my hand up to the light, the diamond twinkled and sparkled from the warm glow of light reflected from the nearby hurricane lamp in Bill's bedroom. Bill and I were stretched out together across his bed, lying naked in each others arms. We were locked in an embrace facing each other, our legs entwined like the smooth, contorted boughs of an old oak tree.
My head resting on Bill's chest, his chin comfortably touching my my dream, Bill talks to me of another world. The world of vampires and other-worldly creatures. He talks to me of unfair acts and injustices. He talks to me of his own immortality and the decades ticking by for him, like the minutes on a second-hand clock. Bill describes for me the many horrors he has seen and the many horrors he himself has been a part of. Bill tells me everything because I had asked him not to spare me anything.
The truth is not always pretty, but it is the truth, after all. There are no shadows between us in my dream. And the truth has been hard fought for and paid for with a tells me of the wonders of the ages. And of all the events in history that he has glided past and witnessed with his own eyes. It's an incredible journey!But, in my dream, I must admit, I am only half-listening. My arms squeezing Bill around his waist. My fingers absent-mindedly playing with the dark, curling hairs on his chest.
After a moment, Bill tenderly captures my fingers with his hand and brings my fingertips to his waiting lips. He kisses each of my fingertips, pressing each against his cool lips, slowly, deliberately. And I can feel all the love he has for me, in just this one simple gesture. And all I am thinking about is Bill. And how much l love him. And how much he loves me. Time is suspended in my dream. All I want is Bill. I crave Bill's touch. This is a familiar pattern. So much so, I dread lying down and trying to go to sleep.I used to awaken with tears in my eyes every morning. For the past ten weeks.
Ten weeks without ever seeing Bill's face or hearing Bill's voice. Ten weeks. It almost had seemed as though Bill had met the True Death. I had had the feeling of being totally defeated. A heaviness in my chest that nothing could relieve. I would go to the mirror and look into my red and swollen eyes. I would remember the moment it had all started and the anger would return and start burning inside of me again! But now my dreams are not in such great contrast to the truth. Not so different from the way things actually turned out. We can never go back again, that much is certain. But in its place, I have found some solace. Some measure of peace. Some understand that I can cling to and live with now. Although some things will never be as they were, I have in its place the truth I so desperately needed.
It all began...one day in my kitchen, talking with my brother Jason.
"Sookie, didn't you say the painters are coming today?" Jason asked while entering through the screen door to the kitchen.
"Yeah, I guess." I was up to my eyes in soapy dish water, trying to clean dishes, pots, everything that had been neglected in the sink from the night before. Gran would be ashamed of this kitchen if she could only see it now, I thought to myself.
"Did you tell'em to start today or what? I need to know. They have to be supervised," Jason said, puffing out his chest.
"I-I don't remember, Jason, honestly. Just call them and find out," I said impatiently.
"Hmmm...Jesus, Sook!" Jason sighed; 'when I start remembering things better than you do... Sook, you gotta snap out of it!"I turned and looked at my brother standing next to the kitchen table.
"Jason. We are not talkin' about this again!"
"Yes, we are!" said Jason;"You ain't even actin' like my sister no more!""Jason!"His voice dropped to a whisper. "Sookie, I know he meant everything to you. But, you're actin' like a hermit or something. You go to work. You come home and that's it! You haven't come to any of my baseball games yet. The season's half over. Thought you might make it to one or two at least..."
"I'm sorry, Jason," I shook my head; "I'm really sorry. I will come to one of your games... I promise."
"Sook, you're flat," he said;"Flat...like a deflated balloon."
"Yeah, I'm flat."
Jason went on and on. "You're like a pancake. A flat tire. You're forgetful. You're confused. I-I can't depend on ya like I used to."
"Well, maybe that's a good thing. I'll be alright Jason. I will."
"Sook, will you go see somebody? Y'know...go talk to somebody?"
"Jason, that is ridiculous!"
"Are you talkin' to Tara?""No, I am not!"
"Why? Cause she was right about Bill?"
I dried off my hands with the dishcloth and quickly came round the table to stand in front of Jason. "Okay, Jason! That's enough. I want you to get outta here now. I don't need this! Go back to work."
I pulled Jason by his arm giving him a head-start in the direction of the screen door.
"I feel like killin' him," Jason said with tight lips; "I feel like goin' over to that Compton house and stakin' his ass-"
"Jason!"
I cut off his latest speech about what he wanted to do to Bill. "Jason, you are my brother and I love you. I'm okay. Please go back to work now... I'll find out when the painters will be here. I promise. I can't keep doin' this. Go! Please?"
I looked into Jason's eyes, hoping that he would leave me alone now. I know he was worried about me. He kissed my forehead then left. I breathed a sigh of relief as he hopped into his truck and barreled off in a cloud of dust from the back driveway. Just then, I heard a knock at the front door. And I knew what it was. Every day since that awful night...Bouquets. Urns. Boxes.
Fresh flowers from a fancy florist's shop in Shreveport. Every day they had been arriving at my door. No card. No card necessary. I knew they were from Bill. They must have been costing him a small fortune. Bill knows how much I love tulips. And corabelle. He sent me bunches and bunches of them: red ones, yellow ones, white ones. And hyacinths, lilacs, white chrysanthemums. Geraniums and gardenia laced with pansies and peonies, daisies, day lillies in every color and forget-me-nots. Beautiful bouquets, exotic or simple arrangements. He sent long-stemmed red roses on Sundays. They flooded the downstairs rooms with their delicate or pungent fragrances.
At first, I was in shock that Bill was even sending them to me. I let them stand in the front hall, or in the parlor, the fireplace mantel, on every flat surface. But then, my anger at him would not allow me to be content with even looking at them! I started tearing the arrangements and the bouquets apart! I threw scores of them into the trash! Destroying bunches of them, I know I ripped apart at least fifty bouquets, maybe more. Petals and paper lying all over the house as I tore into them, banging them against the walls, the furniture like a mad woman! I was taking out my rage at Bill on those gorgeous flowers!
Then, after a couple of weeks had gone by, I thought better of it. What a waste, I thought. I finally called a school friend of mine, Jayne, who is now a nurse and working at the hospital. She was delighted to come by the house and take the flowers from me to give them to others to appreciate them in a way I never flowers were only a constant reminder of what I had lost. I continued to have my friend come by and take the flowers but I started waiting longer and longer. I took this latest, enormous bunch of gorgeous sunflowers from the delivery boy [Bill had thought of everything, the boy would never take a tip] and I placed the vase on the coffee table.
I sat down in Gran's favorite over-stuffed chair and stared at the flowers for several minutes. Tell me what to do,Gran, I thought. Everyday of my life, I continue to miss my grandmother and her kind heart, her common sense and her unerring wisdom. Suddenly I thought, well, sunflowers belong in the sunshine. I slowly picked up the smooth,brightly-painted vase that contained the sunflowers and walked out into the kitchen, then through the screen door and out into the sunlight. I placed the flowers on the glass table just outside the door.
The morning sun felt so good. Warm. I stood there for a few moments looking out into the backyard, my mind racing. Alcide was so warm. His hands. His chest. His arms around me. I felt so safe with him. There was nothing complicated or difficult about Alcide. He was just a good guy. We had clung to each other, both of us needing absolution for feelings that had left us battle-weary, stranded and abandoned. Like a life-saving buoy in a storm, we had held close to one another to keep from being swept away on tides of what we each considered meaningless endings to relationships we thought would be permanent and unchanging. Both of us needing some solace.
Alcide had come back to Bon Temps a couple of weeks before on a job. He had called me as soon as he got into town. He told me he was a little nervous. He didn't know if it was a good time. I had told him I was always glad to see him. And I was. After he finished his job that evening, I had made supper for him. Nothing fancy, just what I had on hand. We sat down in the parlor and started talking about each of our lives. We drank too much mulberry wine and everything that had happened in Jackson started tumbling out of my mouth. I told him about what happened at my house after I left Fangtasia.
Before I realized it, I was crying in Alcide's arms. I shared with him my disbelief at what I had learned about Bill. Alcide said he never thought there would be any one after Debbie, because he loved her so much. Alcide said that even though he knew no one could replace Bill for me... he thought we had a special bond. An attraction. I told him, yes, I was attracted to him. I had always been attracted to him. I told him Bill and I were no more and I was glad about that because Bill had let an awful thing happen to me and I would never trust him again.
Well one thing led to another, we held each other close, we started kissing, and I gave myself to Alcide on the sofa. The wine had definitely helped things along, but it felt so good. So safe. Alcide was very mindful of me, my feelings. I just wanted to feel good again. I wanted that connection again, that I missed so much. It wasn't so much about the sex, it was more about the intimacy and the closeness that I lost when I lost Bill. I shouldn't compare my lovers, but I have to. They are like day and night.
I was very selfish with Alcide. I took what he offered and really didn't hold his needs as a first priority. With Bill...I had been the exact opposite. I had given myself to Bill completely, holding nothing away from him. Giving to him all that I am. Every second I was having sex with Alcide, the connection that Bill and I had was broken, or so I thought. After it was over, I got up and ran into the bathroom. I didn't want to wake Alcide. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I stuffed a hand towel into my mouth to stifle my crying. I prayed Alcide would not hear me crying. I was devastated to find that I still felt so empty.
The memory of being so empty, poured over me while I stood in the sunshine with my eyes closed. I opened my eyes and found myself staring in the direction of the Compton property. It was unconsciously done. It was then that I began to realize just how much Bill still had control of my moods, my emotions. My anger returned. For weeks, I had been riding a roller coaster of emotion and melancholy, filled with rage, then sadness and longing and back to anger!
Was Bill still living there, I wondered? I wanted no more flowers coming to my house! I knew where the key to Bill's house was that he had given to me. I still had the engagement ring. I didn't want that ring in my house anymore either! I could go over there now, I thought. I could let myself in. I hurried back into the house. I grabbed the key from the small alabaster box that I kept on the fireplace mantel. I ran upstairs as fast as I could and retrieved the little black velvet box that nestled the exquisite yellow gold engagement ring that Bill had given to me so long ago.
Impulsively, like a hundred times before, I was out the front door and running towards the Compton property. Only this time, the sun is up. It's nine o'clock in the morning. The birds are singing. The air is starting to swelter. The morning dew had evaporated. And so had my resolve to never lay eyes on Bill Compton again!
Halfway through the graveyard that separates our houses, I stopped running. Partly, because I was trying to form some resemblance of a plan. And partly because I was not wearing the type of shoes that are good to accomplish any sprinting in. I am wearing just a worn out pair of flip-flops and the rubber-like divider is starting to hurt the soft flesh between my toes! My heart is pounding! The key to Bill's house is heavy in my palm. I clench it tightly, walking with determination past each grave site. My mouth is suddenly dry.
The pathway is familiar, yet strange. I never thought I would come past this way ever again. I walked under two huge weeping willow trees and then I reached the rusty gate and there it stands in the clearing. The magnificent old Compton house. Once upon a time, this place was where I felt my most happy. My eyes couldn't help but look up to the master bedroom windows, where Bill and I had spent countless hours together, talking, making love. The place where I had felt so complete. As I looked up at the old house, a sadness crept over me and weaved through all my anger.
I began to think of all the security and happiness that Bill Compton was responsible for taking away from me. I turned the key over and over in my hand. Well, no surprise, my traitorous mind would provide me with the memory of the night Bill had given me the damned key.
We had been enjoying another after-glow moment, after making sweet love to each other. Just another beautiful night. Our physical relationship was still new enough so that every time we touched each other, it was almost too much to bear. It was almost like being under the influence of a drug. We couldn't take our eyes away from each other. And it absolutely would have been like torture not to touch each others' skin. I was still lying under Bill, his manhood deep inside me. Bill's forearms cradled the back of my head up from the pillow. I remember his blue eyes intently shining down into mine.
"I have something for you," Bill had whispered, his eyes still smouldering with satisfaction in the dim electric lamp light.
"Oh, I think I'm getting it right now." I had giggled.
"No, something else," he said, turning his head.
"What is it?" I asked curiously, lacing the fingers of Bill's right hand through mine.
"Well, I hope I can reach it..." he had said. Bill stretched out his left arm, trying to open the dresser drawer next to the bed. He was so hard inside me still, when he pressed his body forward to reach out, he penetrated me even more deeply. It was a sensation I loved.
"Ooooh," I moaned with pleasure;"I don't know what you have for me, Mr. Compton, but this will do, just fine!"
He looked down at me and gave me a quick kiss on my lips. "Yes, ma'am."
I remember raising up both my legs to help him with the leverage to reach the knob on the drawer. His weight was against me. I kissed his neck, his chest, his out-reached forearm. Any part of Bill that I could touch with my lips. Our laughter had echoed together, as he moved his chest back across me.
"O.k...I got it," he said.
"O.k...I got it, too!" I had sighed. My lips were close to his ear, my hands smoothing down along his muscular back. I moved my hips and Bill adjusted himself back down to look into my eyes.
"You are really quite insatiable, Miss Stackhouse."
"And that's quite all your fault,Mr. Compton" I said smiling at him . All I remember is the feeling of being deliriously happy watching him smiling at me.
"Here," he said, opening his palm with the key;"no more knocking at my door. This belongs to you."
I stared down at the huge, old-fashioned filigree iron key for the very first time."Oh, Bill!"
I took the key from him and turned it over in my hand. "It's so heavy! Can I use it anytime?"
"Anytime at all. Preferably at sunset," he teased.
I saw this as a very important progression in our relationship. And of course, it was. I put both my arms round Bill's neck then rubbed his nose with mine.
"Thank you, sweetheart...thank you, very much!" I had said, feeling a joy I never knew existed...until I had met Bill.
I felt so close to Bill. I felt like nothing and no one could ever come between us. Soon the key was all but forgotten, as Bill and I were kissing again. Starting the spark and igniting our passion for each other and soon making love again. When I was in bed with Bill I wanted never to leave. I was utterly content and full-filled in a way I could never have imagined before I met him.
Now everything had changed. I was standing in a new reality. A reality without Bill. My heart was broken. And nothing would ever be the same between us ever again, I thought. After everything that had happened, it still sounded so foreign to me: Bill and I are no more. Again, abject sadness then full-blown anger coursed through me. Well, at least this way, I thought, I could catch him off guard and unprepared.
When Bill's eyes met mine would he finally tell me why? Why Bill? Had everything I felt -thought I felt-been a lie? Did you ever really love me? Was anything we shared together real?
With these thoughts whirling in my mind, I finally had reached the house. I took each step up to the spacious porch. I swallowed hard into the back of my throat, my anger moving me forward. The iron key turned easily inside the lock as it always had. I pushed open the door a little. Droplets of perspiration now forming across my upper lip. My heart beating wildly. The door creaked and moaned as I pushed it further still, moving it away from me.
The house was silent and still so cool from the night before. And so dark inside. No sun streaming through the long windows as i had remembered it might. My eyes needed a moment to adjust to the darkness. I left the key in the lock and pushed the door back, only a tiny sliver of light filter into the darkness. I looked into the main parlor. The red velvet couch was there. I turned my head to my right. There was the huge fireplace where I had given myself to Bill for the very first time.
In slow motion it seemed, I walked to the door of the closet just in front of me where Bill rested. It was so dim in the foyer. I was determined to see him. I held my breath and placed my hand on the door. I pushed in, very gently, on the hidden closet door and looked down, still holding my breath. But to my amazement the trap door, covered by the little Oriental rug, was fully up! I took a step inside, peering over into the hole, but Bill was not there!
I heard a gasp of surprise then realized that the sound had come from me! I backed away, clumsily, out of the closet, hitting my right shoulder hard on the door jam, and suddenly feeling ridiculous for ever having let myself into Bill's house. I backed away in the darkness. I looked into the parlor again, an odd sense of panic rising in my stomach.
My mind was suddenly flooded with the realization that every window downstairs had been covered with black tarp! I stared stupidly at the dark parlor windows again. Yes, this is why there was no sunlight streaming through! Every window had been covered, curtains and all! I shut my eyes for a second, cursing myself for not having seen this when I first entered the house. And as I stood there frozen in the middle of the foyer, I heard the sound of a creak above me on the landing at the top of the staircase.
"Sookie."
My heart stopped at the familiar sound of his voice. I slowly lifted my eyes upward until I saw him on the first landing.
There stood Bill.
*end of Chapter One... To Be Continued...