A/N: Hey, whats that? Holy cow, it's a new chapter! Yeah, I know. I've been so caught up in other aspects of life that I haven't updated in a long time. And I hate to say it, but updates will probably be very infrequent until the summer unless my schedule changes. I also will warn you that this chapter is kind of a metachapter because there were about 4 days in the plot that I needed to skip over. Perhaps this chapter will give you more insight on Claire's life and her relationship with her mother? Hmmm?
Ch 10
Pam was outside of the Fangtasia, doing the same mundane task of checking I.D.'s as she did almost every night. She kept a fierce eye on the few small groups of people hanging around the bar, the memory of what was now referred to as "the incident" still fresh in her mind. She placed her hands on her hips, setting her dangerous eyes on a young blonde man walking towards her.
He was tapping his thigh, in what appeared to be nerves, clenching and unclenching his fist. He came up to her, but avoided making eye contact, choosing instead to look a group of people to his right. He flashed his eyes back at her, but quickly looked down before saying, "Hey."
"Your mama know you're out in the big city?"
"Well, my mama's dead," he replied, shaking his arms out by his sides.
"So am I."
He continued shaking his hands and flicking his eyes everywhere, never staying still. He reminded Pam of small children, and their painfully annoying trait of constant fidgeting. Thought of the disgusting creatures prompted her to ask for his I.D. He dug in his back pocket for his wallet, and then presented his card to Pam, who had never taken her studying eyes off his face.
He looks familiar, she thought before flicking her eyes to his driver's license, then rolled back to him, studying his face again before speaking.
"Jason Stackhouse from Bon Temps?"
"Mm-hm,"
"You related to Sookie by any chance?" she asked, unintentionally lowering her voice, revealing a new level of interest.
Thought of the telepath reminded her of Claire, the seer that came to Fangtasia on the same night as Sookie. She had noticed Claire was different from the moment she met her. She had seen some odd characters in her life, especially sense Eric opened the bar, but Claire was a new type of different. She fell in the Sookie category, an interesting, and supernatural set of people. Thinking back to the night, she remembered that Claire had an unusual scent, one that Pam had never smelled on a human before. It was bittersweet, like a dusty flower, and it intrigued her.
"She's my sister," he said, breaking Pam's reverie. "How do you know her?"
Pam paused, before saying, "She stands out, do you?"
"Uh, no," he said, shaking his head and casting his eyes to the ground. His head snapped back up as an idea hit him.
"Maybe! In, uh, other ways…"
"Why are you here?" She asked, handing him back his card, trying unsuccessfully to make eye contact with Jason. His eyes moved constantly, much like those of a kitten watching flecks of dust.
"Uh, well, you know I heard it was cool, wanted to check it out. I'm one of those open-minded kinda guys."
He turned to face her, finally meeting her gaze. He kept it just long enough for Pam to put her spell on him. His nervous grin and flitting eyes slowly melted into a transfixed expression, which she held for a few moments, until she was certain his mind was under her influence.
"Tell me why you came here."
"I want some vampire blood," he said, as the expression Pam mistook for nerves resurfaced, only this time she knew what it really was; desire. "What time do you get off work?"
"You came for my blood?" she asked, amused. "Huh, well, yes your right," she looked away from Jason's eyes, breaking her spell. He blinked, as if a flash from a camera had unexpectedly gone off in front of him. "You're nothing like you sister."
The corners of her lips curled up ever so slightly. She pulled back her head and opened her mouth, showing him her fangs.
"Go on in," Jason began to walk around her, having to slide his body in between her and the pole that held up the canopy. "And good luck getting out."
Inside of Fangtasia, Eric Northman was sitting in his throne on the stage overlooking Fangtasia. It was a typical night there, full of people, most staying away from the stage. He had his cell phone in his hand, awaiting a reply from a vampire in his area, Bill Compton. He had texted him earlier that night, about how he required the assistance of his human companion, in those words exactly. He didn't dare say help. Eric Northman didn't need "help" with anything, especially human help.
Bill's companion, Sookie, greatly interested him. He had found out rather quickly that she was telepathic because, unlike Claire, she didn't keep it a secret. He wasn't sure what her telepathy meant yet, but he was sure it meant something, something big. He decided he would speak to someone about her, Godric perhaps. Surely he would know something, and if he didn't then he would go to his Queen, Sophie-Anne.
His mind then turned to the other mystery in his life, Claire Winfield. He would have to do something about her, and soon. There was just one little technicality; her age. Even though she was a legal adult, she was still in high school and therefore under the wing of the government, and untouchable to him. There was also the fact that she was blind and could not be glamoured into dropping out of school or leaving her mother's care. Threatening her into leaving school was also out of the question. He needed her close to him so he could use her, or more specifically, her visions. She only had visions about things that were involved in her life, so he needed to keep her close.
If Bill doesn't respond soon, he thought looking back down at his cell phone, I'll have to tell him myself.
The next three days after the funeral were depressingly uneventful. Ms. Winfield was working at the hospital from before Claire woke up until after it had gotten dark outside, coming home just in time to make a quick dinner.
Every morning of these three days, Claire would wake up and take a shower. She found that taking showers woke her up much more thoroughly than a cup of coffee could, not to mention that she hated the taste, no matter the ratio of milk, cream, and sugar to actual coffee. After her shower, she would get dressed and go downstairs to put together a bowl of cereal, which she ate to the celebrity gossip and political blend of her favorite talk radio station.
After washing, drying, and putting away her dishes (the dishwasher had been broken for years) she chose between knitting, listening to her book on CD, more talk radio, one of the three channels they got on T.V., and pulling out her pack of Braille playing cards and playing solitare. Yes, there were a multitude of other things she could do, like start the summer work packets from school, call a friend, or go for a walk, but Claire didn't really consider those options.
On the first day after the funeral, she guessed that she played over a hundred games of pyramids and solitaire, enough, she felt, to last her the entire summer. She even tried making a card tower once, but quickly gave up. She cursed the endlessly running ceiling fans for her failure at paper architecture, and then mumbled about how her mother really should invest in getting AC.
On the second day, she took a break from playing cards and switched to the scarf she had begun knitting that winter. It was one-third of the way done already, and Claire had forgotten what color it was. Her fingers quickly became sore from pulling the thread, and her patience wore thin just as quickly with losing stitches, so she switched to her book on CD. She was able to finished Alice in Wonderland in under an hour, so she started the next book she had in line, Look for me by Moonlight. After listening to the first few pages, the phone rang.
Pausing the CD, she listened as the phone read the caller I.D. It was her mother. Quickly pulling out her ear buds, she tossed her Walkman on the couch and went to the kitchen to pick up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey sweetie! How are you?"
"I've had better days," Claire replied.
"Oh… Well I just wanted to ask you if you could vacuum the upstairs. My room, the bathroom, your room, the-"
"Alright."
"Are you ok?"
"Yes."
There was a pause on the phone line. Claire heard the intercom at the hospital call a doctor to a room.
"When are you going to be home?" Asked Claire, wrapping a strand of her hair tightly around her fingers.
"I'm working double shifts tonight to cover for Ms. Mary-Beth, so not until late. There's leftovers in the fridge, or you can make a sandwich, or-"
"Ok." Said Claire, cutting her off again.
"What is up with you today Claire? Something's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong, I'm just… Tired."
"Well what time did you go to bed late night?"
"Ten-thirty." Claire lied. She didn't want to hear the lecture that would follow if she told her mom when she really went to bed.
"Are you having trouble sleeping? We're seeing the doctor next week, do you want me to talk to him about it?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Alright," said Ms. Winfield slowly. "I'll see you tonight then. Love you,"
"Bye."
Claire hung up the phone, groaning. She debated going back to the couch and listening to her Walkman for the next hour, but decided grudgingly decided against it. She would undoubtedly forget about vacuuming, and would then have to face the wrath of her mother telling her how lazy she was.
After vacuuming, she felt energized. She sprinted down the steps to the basement, almost falling over a laundry bin, and began digging around the basement pantry. She passed by the four boxes of Froot Loops that were kept in constant stock and contemplated three different boxed cake mixes before settling on a package of instant chocolate pudding.
Upstairs in the kitchen she was mixing the milk and powder with vigor, thinking about how she could "spice up" the pudding. A light bulb went off in her mind as she remembered the container of Jimmies that were in the spice cabinet. She went to look for them, but discovered that not all of the containers were labeled. Popping open a tall cylindrical container, she sniffed the contents. Wrinkling her nose from the dog-food smell, she put the container on the counter and moved on to the next one.
She had never realized how weird spices smelled until now. She had gone through four more containers, each smelling worse than the last, and none of them smelling like the sugary rainbow she expected of Jimmies. Picking up another, much larger and heavier container, she took a cautious sniff. It didn't smell like anything. She took another, deeper, sniff; still nothing. She shook the container as a final precaution. The rattle of larger pellet-like pieces turned the container into a makeshift maraca. Excited, Claire shook liberal amounts of the Jimmies into her pudding before putting the bowl in the refrigerator to gel.
She made herself a peanut butter and butter sandwich for dinner and brought it upstairs to her bedroom, the kitchen beginning to feel eerily empty as the day wore on. Flopping into her desk chair, she sat and began to eat her sandwich, but was interrupted by the soft pitter-patter of rain against glass. She moved out of her chair to sit underneath her window, inhaling the fresh wet scent.
Claire forgot all about her pudding until the next day when her mom was home on her day off.
"Claire!" She yelled upstairs after pulling the green mixing bowl out of the fridge where it was sitting on top of her cups of yogurt. "What's this?"
"Can you tell me what 'this' is?"
"In the mixing bowl in the 'fridge," she yelled, "It's brown with lumps in it?"
In her room, Claire stopped knitting.
Mixing bowl… brown with lumps… fridge…OH!
"I made pudding!"
"This is pudding?"
Claire put down her needles and made her way downstairs.
"What do you mean?" She asked, walking through the hidden staircase's doorway.
"It has tons of big, white lumps in it. What did you put in there?" Claire paused.
Big white lumps? I just put jimmies in it, why would they be white? Unless… oh no.
Ms. Winfield saw the expression on Claire's face change, and began to smile.
"I thought… I thought I put Jimmies in it." Claire said slowly.
"Yeah… these aren't Jimmies sweetie." She dipped a finger into the pudding concoction, frowning at how watery it was, and put the finger in her mouth, tasting it. She puckered her lips before announcing, "It's salt!"
"Oh no," groaned Claire, covering her face with her hands.
Ms. Winfield just laughed. Grabbing a rubber spatula from a drawer, she scrapped the pudding into the trash.
"Why did you want to make pudding?" She asked.
"I was bored yesterday, after you told me to vacuum."
"Oh! Speaking of vacuuming," began Ms. Winfield as she washed the bowl in the sink. "Well, cleaning really, I need you to sweep the porch while I'm out tonight. The rain last night brought down some leaves and-"
"Where are you going? I thought you had the day off?"
"I do. It's just that Mary-Beth invited me to go with her to an Oakridge boys tribute band in Ruston ."
"Sounds like a blast," said Claire sarcastically.
"Don't tell me you haven't heard of them!" Said Ms. Winfield, incredulous. "I can't believe it, my own daughter doesn't even know who the Oak Ridge Boys are."
"Well, believe it."
"I'm going to have to educate you on them when I get back."
"So when are you leaving then?"
"Ah, not for a while now. Maybe 8:30? It depends on when Mary-Beth can get of work. But right now I need to go to the grocery story, and the Library, the pharmacy, drycleaners…" She continued listing off the places she needed to go, her voice becoming more unenthusiastic as the list got longer.
"Do you mind if I come?" Asked Claire. She was extremely bored just sitting in the house, bordering on stir crazy. "I need to return some CDs to the Library."
Ms. Winfield smiled. It had been a long time since Claire had actually offered to go on errands with her. It reminded her of when Claire was a child, and the good times they had together. Remembering the past only made the reality that much harder to accept; that her baby was growing up, and would one day leave her.