5/4/13 AN: Here's where the edits start. If you've already ready this and left a review, thanks. If you're new or rereading and didn't leave a review the first time, please do so. Really, it helps the motivation. I don't own 'em at all.
EPOV
After the funeral, I leave. The burial seems like a more intimate ceremony and I don't feel my presence would be appropriate. I start the drive back to my apartment, deep in thought.
Seeing Sookie today affected me more than I thought it would when I made the decision to attend the service. Hearing her voice, reading her every emotion as each one crosses her face… I felt thrown back in time when I sat in the pew staring up at her.
There are changes, like anyone would experience in five years, but they're subtle. I would still recognize her anywhere. Her hair is shorter, around her shoulders rather than down her back, and more gold than wheat. Her figure is slightly fuller than it was when we split, but not much different from how she looked before she danced. I listen to her and in my mind, I'm eighteen again. I miss what I was like then.
I pull a U-turn at the next intersection and head towards the lake. Part of me just wants to think in a place that holds mostly happy memories. I think I'll have an easier time organizing my thoughts in the silence of the field, listening to the water lap the shore and the breeze rustling the trees. Remembering happier times seems like a good way to spend the afternoon after such a somber morning.
My mind is flashing scenes of things I'd made myself forget as I drive down the still-familiar back roads. My first "real" time with Sookie. Every time we'd been there after that. The private dance she'd given me after making the dance team. How we played in the snow that winter until our faces were numb and then went into the cabin to build a fire and warm each other up. All but one of my memories of the small, secluded field make me smile like I haven't in years.
I pull down the gravel drive and see a pearl white SUV parked in front of the cabin. I hadn't even considered that the property may have been sold. I leave my car idling in park as I step out and look around.
The SUV has Illinois plates. I turn my head and see the petite blond sitting at the end of the dock with her legs hanging over the side. I can turn and leave now without being noticed. But I don't want to. I reach in my open window and shut off the engine, loosen my tie and head slowly down the dock. "Sookie?"
She jumps and nearly falls off the dock in her surprise. "Eric?"
SPOV
I lean back on my elbows, relaxing with the sun on my cheeks. As I close my eyes, I flip through my mental photo album. Daddy taking Jase and I out in his boat and my brother baiting my hook for me, laughing at me for hating the worms. Jason teaching me the basics of driving a stick shift in his truck in the safety of the open field. Him helping me get the tents set up for the Girl Scout campouts. So many wonderful childhood and early teen memories of my brother take place in this peaceful area.
But memories of Jason start to get replaced by those of another tall blond. It has been a long time since I let myself think of Eric; it was easier not to. Certainly there were dreams, especially after he left town. Every now and then the growl of a Camaro or the smell of soap mixed with sweat would make my chest clench. But I pushed through it each time and forced myself to move on. Here, with the water ticking my bare toes and the sweet call of the spring birds echoing off the cliffs, I can't ignore them anymore.
It's a day for remembrance, so I allow myself. I keep my eyes closed and let my mind drift back. The feel of his arms around me, the weight of his eyes on me, the sound of his laughter all make me smile with nostalgia.
Of course, those innocent memories bring others that are less… virtuous. Dew from the grass dampening our clothes as we tossed them away. His sprinkling of chest hair tickling my breasts as he moved against me. The way he looked ethereally perfect naked in the light from the fireplace. How his almost-turquoise eyes would darken to indigo when he looked at me, at first with lust and later, with love.
I know, completely, that losing him is on me. I pushed him away. He never would have let me go. I had to force him so we wouldn't end up hating each other. I still usually feel that I was right in my decision; other times, I don't think I could have made a bigger mistake.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't hear anything. Not the birds, or the water slapping against the rocks on the shore, or even the dull thuds of my swinging legs hitting the wood of the dock. I'm so deep into my head that I'm completely startled by a deep voice saying my name questioningly.
I start to turn, wondering if I've gone crazy or become delusional in my grief or if I'm really that sleep deprived. The chances that Eric is standing at the end of the dock, staring at me the way he used to, like it hasn't been almost five years, has to be slim-to-none. I have to ask to make sure I'm not going insane. "Eric?"
"Yeah. What are you doing here?" He looks so puzzled.
"I think that's my line. Why are you so dressed up?" My brain is officially on the fritz.
"I was at the funeral, but left before the burial. Your speech was amazing, by the way. I was almost home when I decided that I didn't want to be cooped up in an empty apartment, so I turned around and headed here without really thinking about it. An answer to my question would be more appropriate." He cocks his eyebrow up, just like he used to whenever he challenged me.
"I couldn't handle a crowd right after the burial. I wanted a little time alone with my thoughts and memories. I really think that sitting silently beside that grave was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do." My eyes begin to well up again and I turn back toward the water.
"Sook, don't do that," he says quietly and the wood creaks under his weight as he sits down behind me. "Don't hide what you're feeling. Not here. Not with me."
At his words, the tears start flowing. I feel myself shaking with the sobs I've been repressing all day. The guilt I've felt since Saturday morning settles in my chest and makes it hard to breathe. I gasp for air and Eric runs his large hand over my back in an attempt to calm me. I manage to admit, in a shaky whisper, what I haven't been able to say to anyone else. "It's my fault. It's all my fault that my brother died. If I hadn't come home, if I hadn't gotten drunk, Jason would still be here. He's dead because of me."
Eric places his hands on my shoulders and forces me to face him. "How is this your fault?"
I try to catch my breath as the tears continue to fall. "He took me out to celebrate my homecoming. He stayed sober and I… didn't. When he dropped me off, I realized that I left my purse at Merlotte's. Rather than telling me to wait until the next day, he let me go to bed since I was sleepy and took it upon himself to go get my stuff. If my drunk, forgetful ass had been more responsible, Jason wouldn't have been on the road. It doesn't matter that Bill's BAC was high enough to consider him a zombie. I am the reason Jason was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because of me, I'll never see my brother again." Admitting my guilt renews my weeping and his arms go around me, lending me his strength.
It feels strange and familiar both to have Eric hold me, support me, comfort me. I let myself sink against him, resting my head on his shoulder. For a long time, he simply holds me. I exhaust myself, expelling all the remorse and grief I've held in since I got the news. I feel myself calming down and he lets me pull back. I scoot a respectable distance away and study the wood grain beneath me.
I'm chagrined to have let go like that and to have used Eric as my confessor. He doesn't need to take on that role, especially with the past that we have. It's not fair to him. But the only other person to see the emotional side of Susannah Stackhouse in years is no longer here and the reason for my current breakdown. I feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment and I turn away, dipping my feet back in the water.
EPOV
Holding her this way is heartbreakingly familiar. Her body against mine feels right, like it always did; like she was made for me alone. Not until this moment do I realize that every woman I've been with in the past five years was a stand-in, a pitiful substitute for what I wanted and couldn't have.
I hate to admit it, especially to myself, but my feelings for her mostly stayed the same. I do still love her. For a long time that love was tinged with bitterness and hurt, but time has healed most of those scars. Every single thing I originally loved about her rushed back to me as she gave the eulogy: her poise, confidence, and sense of humor. As against the mood as it may have been, I also noticed that the black dress she wore, though somber and appropriate, looked amazing on her and accentuated her best features. But seeing her now, in old jean shorts and a Wildcats t-shirt, I can almost pretend that five years hasn't passed.
We're silent, just soaking in the quiet and the peace that's hard to find elsewhere. Sookie chances a glance at her watch and gasps. "Shit! My parents are going to kill me. I should have been back over an hour ago. It's too easy to lose track of time out here. I'm sorry, Eric, I have to run." She jumps to her feet with familiar agility and brushes dust off of her shorts and scrubs her cheeks of any lingering tears. "It was good to see you and I'm sorry if I ruined your shirt. I'll pay for the cleaning. Be safe getting home." She jumps into the SUV and turns around, speeding down the gravel drive.
Now alone, like I had originally hoped to be, it seems too quiet. In the heavy silence, I can't help but remember the last time I was here. I can almost feel the same humidity in the air. So clearly, almost too clearly, I remember my ability to trust being shattered along with my heart. It stayed that way for longer than I thought it would. She had been the first girl I had to chase and work for. She was the first girl I allowed in. She was the first girl I actually cared about more than myself. She was the first girl I loved. That night, she broke my heart, but seeing her here… feeling her in my arms again… it's been a long time since something so simple felt so natural and right.
I head back to my car and remove my tie and jacket. After laying them in the passenger seat, I unbutton my shirt a little and head back to the dock, enjoying the afternoon warmth. Sookie had mentioned "homecoming". I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm not sure how to handle having her brand of temptation so close.
I'm not used to feeling this confusion. I don't know what to do with it. I'm glad I was able to comfort and support her when she obviously needed it. However, I'm conflicted: that amazing, beautiful, infuriatingly complex woman can get under my skin like no one else before or since; I don't know if I could handle the damage only she can cause yet again.
SPOV
I stop by my house to change back into my dress and fix my face before I go to my parents' house. I didn't expect Eric to appear at the lake. I really haven't had a chance to think about him since I moved back. I never thought he would show up for Jason's funeral, much less at the field afterward. It threw me to see him and once I was all cried out, I was embarrassed. That, combined with the fact that I was close to disrespectfully late for the luncheon, was why I rushed away. I'm not ready to really face him.
I pull into the drive behind Daddy's old pickup. Since the melancholy mood of the day had lightened some, I was looking forward to spending some much needed time with my family. I hug Sophie and rub her bump before taking Rogan from Neave and tote him around. I pass him off to his daddy when I see Hoyt and Sam come in through the kitchen. I greet them with hugs, then gasp when I see Dee and Gary Thornton turn up the drive. After greeting my parents, who they know well after years of sleepovers, they both hug me tightly. They tell me that Tara tried to get away from New York, but with rehearsals for a new show daily, she couldn't get the time. I don't fault her and tell them so. She's still my friend and knowing she's thinking of us is enough.
We fill plates from the numerous meals and sides that were prepared by friends and neighbors. Taking spots where ever available: kitchen table, on the floor around the coffee table, or even leaning against the wall, we all share our stories about Jason. I almost choke when Hoyt reminds us of the time Jason mistook a bottle of lemon juice and peroxide I used to give my teenage self highlights in the summer for hairspray and had to go to his Homecoming dance with his hair a strange mix of orange and white. Sam reminds me of Jason conning me out of my allowance by giving me "parachute lessons" with a pillowcase and a bunk-bed. Daddy remembers him falling out of the bed of the pickup while going up a hill. He rolled to the bottom, unhurt, but scratched all over his face. Daddy told him to tell anyone who asked that he was kicked by a deer. By the gasps from Sophie and Hadley, I know he did just that and they believed him.
It's a bit of humor in the midst of the saddest day of my life. I know that the hard parts haven't ended; they're just taking a little break so we can adjust to our lives without Jason. Once the plates are clean, the meals have been split up and put away, and the guests have left, I head back to my empty house.
Mom calls later in the week to ask me a favor. She can't do it, but she knows that Jason's house needs to be cleared out. She wants me to make a start at sectioning things apart: things to throw away, things to donate, and things to keep. Since Jason didn't have any kids (and with his history, that was more luck than anything), she wanted me to put away anything that should be passed down to my kids or those of my cousins. As much as I didn't want to do it either, I know it'll be easier on me than my momma.
I make the short drive to his little bungalow in case I need the room in my SUV. It was designed for a future family and it hurts knowing of yet another experience that Jason was robbed of. I grab a bunch of trash bags and start cleaning before I start sorting.
The refrigerator and pantries get tossed for anything opened; the unopened stuff can be donated. I tidy up his living room, getting rid of any trash there and move on to his bedroom. I can tell this is the only room Jason put any motivation to keeping up and it shows by the neatly made bed and lack of clothes on the floor. I smirk to myself while I take the full bags to the street to be picked up. Dropping the tailgate of my SUV, I grab a roll of packing tape and flat boxes to pack what can be donated.
The whole kitchen gets packed. Gran left me everything there that I needed and my parents certainly don't need cheap cookware or plates and utensils. I leave the den alone; I'll let Daddy deal with the furniture and television. I don't need them, but I'm not comfortable sending the big leather sectional and fifty-five inch monster of a TV to Goodwill. I see the equipment in the entertainment center and make a note to go through his bills to see what utilities we need to cancel.
I get to his clothes and immediately claim some of his sweaters and jeans. I know they're way too big for me, but wearing his clothes has a sense of nostalgia for me. I roll my eyes finding a drawer of various women's things in his dresser: underwear, bras, random shoes. I pull all of that into another trash bag and set it by the door. I enter the closet and section off what I want and what can be donated. I find a small box in the corner that looks out of place and take it to the bed. It has my name on it, which confuses me. There's an envelope, which I open before the box. It's a letter from my brother.
Dear Sook,
I know you're gonna want to kick my ass for this, which is why I'm hiding after I drop this off. You're my baby sister and one of the best friends a guy like me could ask for. I don't deserve someone as good as you in my life. So know I'm doing this for your own good.
I've watched you grow up so much over these years. I missed you while you were in Chicago. It makes me a little sad to see you treating relationships like I have. You have never been a girl meant to play the field. You may have wanted to, but it hasn't made you happy. You were happier being with just one guy. That's the kind of girl you are and I want that for you. Don't end up like me, Sis. You deserve better.
I know you don't want to hear it, but since you've moved back, you're getting another chance. I don't care if it's with Eric or Jake or someone else that I haven't met yet, but I think you could be amazing for any man you privilege with your presence in their life. Not that you need a man, no matter what Momma says. You don't need anyone. Take some time to think about it and remember… don't kill me. I just care. Text me when you've cooled off enough for me to come back home.
Love,
Jason
I wipe the fresh tears from my cheeks and open the shoebox on my lap. Every single picture and memento from my almost-year with Eric is in there: the candle from Homecoming, the pressed corsage, the locket he gave me for Christmas, and a tightly banded stack of pictures. That ass must have raided my room after I left. I intentionally stashed this stuff in an old drawer in my dresser after I broke up with Eric. If I didn't see it daily, it couldn't remind me of how much I missed him.
I unband the photos and can't help but grin as I flip through them. There are posed ones, like Homecoming, his birthday, Valentine's Day, and graduation. There are also candids that I hadn't realized were being taken. Eric and I walking together in our uniforms after a game, hands clasped. Him giving me a piggy-back ride down to the pond. Me taking a bite of a chocolate covered strawberry he fed me as dessert for the birthday I had just a month before he left. I realize I don't even have to think hard to remember every single moment.
It's coincidence, right? Eric shows up at the lake after the funeral, and just days later I find this box of keepsakes with a letter from Jason urging me to give having a relationship another chance. I know Jason put this box together with the intention of dropping it off while I wasn't home and heading God-knows-where to hide. He knew my temper too well and knew I'd want to kick his ass for meddling. Now I'm glad he did. I never would have known how worried he was about me following in his footsteps. I hadn't realized that was how he saw my life in Chicago.
I pack everything back in the box and take it out to my car. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about Eric at all after seeing him again at the lake. His shell is harder, thicker, and rougher than it had been when we first met. Despite the comfort he gave me, he seems more jaded and bitter than I ever could have pictured him. I do wonder if the same guy I fell in love with is still there under the cocky façade or if the image is now the reality. I determine that I want to know, one way or the other. I want to learn who he is now and if Jason's last wish for me can come to fruition.
