A/N And again, thank you for your feedback!

When I served Lafayette his pie after dinner, he complained girlishly that I was trying to make him fat. As if. He has a very nice body and I know he works hard to keep it that way. We made our way through the rest of the wine and just enjoyed ourselves. After my very guarded admissions about my bedroom activities with Eric, he began to regale me with accounts of his own recent conquests in far more graphic details. I had to switch gears a little bit when he got into it. Other people's private lives are, well, private. He enjoys to share though, just like Amelia. He also has a tendency to embellish wildly and use a lot of florid language. I was very happy listening to him talk for a while. It felt like a normal night of hanging out, and I had really needed one.

He was finally ready to get home to sleep and I decide to leave with him. I tidied away our dinner dishes and packed up the leftover food to send home with Lafayette. He was pleased with that. We walked out to our cars together and I gave him a tight hug.

"Thanks for coming over," I say. "I needed this."

"Apparently the bar has been lifted up a bit for staying in your good graces this week," he grins back. "So I'll be having to be trying harder."

"Oh stop," I say, swatting at him.

"What time should I come by tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'll be here early so whenever. Don't rush yourself for it, really."

Assuring me with a laugh that he won't, Lafayette bade me good night and I head back to the hotel. I only brought a change of clothes for the morning and my own shampoo and soap back with me. It would be nice to have them back, even if I had to take them into a wholly inferior bathing chamber. The hotel shower is actually pretty spacious, but I still scoff with mock disdain when I get in there and see the mere one shower head. Yeah, I'm spoiled forever now. I'm exhausted, so unlike last night I have no problems falling asleep. Very much like last night though, I wake up several times with the same discomfiture that follows my nightmares. I dreamed that Bill was unpacking all my things and scolding me for being silly, and then Lorena is at my Gran's house doing our gardening with Eric. Pam brushed past me with a tray of seedlings she was carrying over to him. She's telling me I told you so, though I don't actually see her lips move.

And just what are you trying to say, subconscious mind? It hadn't seemed so bad but I was left feeling very unsettled. I struggled in my semi-wakefulness to recall more details but it all slipped quickly away. Finally I drifted back to sleep again so when I woke up in the morning I was feeling a lot less weary in body but no less unencumbered mentally than I'd felt since Sunday morning, basically. Today I'd pack up the last vestiges of the me I'd been alongside Bill. Even as I told myself that I should embrace the task with determination and even zeal, I couldn't help but linger over my melancholy. I guess that's standard normal in a situation like this, but that idea didn't really offer much in the way of consolation.

I picked up breakfast for Lafayette and I on the way back over to the condo. I decided to get right to work, and so I just propped the door open with a shoe so he could come right in. We had set the front bedroom up as a study; part office for us both, and part library. I packed away my laptop and went to put it with my suitcases. The desk had been custom built to fit the room, stretching down one wall and wrapping around the corner across half the other. We each had a workstation there, theoretically so we could be working at the same time, but that situation had yet to arise. I made a note about needing a desk. I'd picked out my chair with care though. It would be coming with me. I wheeled it out into the hall.

The opposite wall, full of books, was a lot more daunting. I kept all of my old school books, and had the rest of the collection I'd amassed for myself along with everything else I'd brought from home. Bill and I had organized our respective libraries into one space, loosely by subject, and so his fiction was mixed in with mine, and his computer books were by my math ones, and so on. This was going to be tedious. I start from the topmost left side shelf and begin to work my way across, carrying short little stacks down every time I step off his chair, which is what I'm using to access everything up high. No, standing on a rolling office chair to lift down heavy things from high places is not the smartest thing to do, but this is the most convenient solution. We can't all be six feet five and reach all the things like some people I know. Mm. I smile a little bit. I'm looking forward to dinner.

I hear Lafayette holler out my name down the hall as he comes in the door so I set my current load aside and go to meet him. He's got a peck on the cheek for me and true to his word he is wearing a pair of very short cut-off denim shorts, over a pair of bicycle pants. Maybe they're weight lifting pants. Regardless, they're made of spandex. It's an interesting look and when I compliment his outfit he tells me that he has covered up to protect my modesty. I laugh at that, thinking back to the last time the subject of my modesty was broached. I serve him breakfast by way of handing him an egg sandwich wrapped in paper, and we went over the plan for the day as he ate. We only needed to pack the rest of the study and then get the furniture ready to go. The moving company was going to take care of actually packing and wrapping it to ship, or be driven, or whatever it was they did. I was responsible for removing or securing any moving parts (like drawers), and separating any parts that could be separated (like lifting the mirror off its stand).

We walked back to the books again and he agreed to pack and shift while I sorted. As we did so we chatted about this and that. One of the teaching assistants in his department had been dismissed after it was found that he'd made some grade adjustments in exchange for some extra-sexual favour assignments. He was bemoaning the fact that no one had ever approached him for something like that and I told him about the scandal at Peterson I'd heard about. We agreed that teachers had a rough time of it, being under the weird microscope of adolescent scrutiny. It was certainly true. Some of my students had always used to tease me about still being a Miss Stackhouse. How old did they think I was? I knew that some of the other unmarried faculty members went by Ms., to avoid just that sort of thing. I knew a single man who taught high school and wore a fake wedding ring to class.

He was finishing packing the last of my textbooks away and I gave the bookcase a few final adjustments. I had ended up removing everything of mine carefully, so the spaces between his books, where mine had previously stood, were left intact. It was an interesting picture. Lafayette glanced up to see what I was seeing and gave an appreciative whistle.

"Quite the message you're sending here, Sook," he say.

I give a satisfied little nod. "I did the same thing in the closet. All his shirts are in an orderly little row, right along the floor."

He chuckles. He has taped up the last box and hoists it up with a might groan. "I'da burned 'em with the bed."

I smirk at that. He wouldn't really. One of his exes had ruined some of his clothes with bleach as a parting gift back in school and he'd been really bothered about it in the aftermath. It hadn't just been because he liked the clothes. He felt like it tainted the whole relationship. He couldn't walk away with any good feelings about it at all, which he would have done, even despite their break-up. So whatever he might threaten, I knew that Lafayette was not really a destruction-of-property kind of guy. He carries the box away and I hear him set it down heavily in the hall before he returns to join me.

"What's left?" he asks.

I glance around in here and realize I need to go through the desk and take out all my files and papers. I've got a lot of things from the house stored here, and my own bills.

"Oh darn it," I exclaim suddenly. "I've got to take my name off of all the utilities here."

Lafayette is content to lean back on the couch and just relax as I start sorting through all of our bills in the desk, removing what is mine and phoning up to remove myself from everything that's done jointly. I reach a bit of a sticking point when it comes to the electricity, because it's in my name alone. I'd needed a utility in just my name when we moved here, to establish residency. We had planned to switch it over to a joint account after I was more formally employed, and had pay stubs with our address on it, but we hadn't gotten around to it yet.

"I say just cancel it effective tomorrow," he offers. "But knowing you, you'll schedule your end of service for next week so he won't have to go without, goodie two-shoes that you are."

I smile at that and call the company to make the arrangements, authorizing them to debit my bank for the last payment, but giving them my new billing address back in Bon Temps, just in case. That leaves me with the safe to go through, and I retrieve my keys. We have one of those fire-proof ones for all of our important documents. It's built into the desk, and sort of hidden that way in a drawer, but it's not particularly secure. I think you could probably prise it open with a crowbar or something if you were really determined. I unlock it and fish out my passport and birth certificate and the deed to my house, my diploma, my banking records, and a thin envelope full of savings bonds that Gran had given my for every birthday until I turned eighteen. They weren't all fully mature yet. I think they take fifteen years or something. That's when I notice the little ring box.

I pull it out with just a little, "Huh," sound, but I've captured Lafayette's attention immediately. Without making too much fuss I go ahead and open it and it is indeed a diamond solitaire ring, a very substantial one, at that. Since I can feel his eyes on me I hold it up to show him and he comes off the couch to take a closer look, pulling it out from its padded velvet perch and leaving me with the box.

I imagine that the look on my face is one of utter disbelief and I ask him, "What do you make of that?"

He's still studying the ring, turning it over in his hands. "It ain't no tiny pebble," he finally says. "It's engraved."

"What does it say?" I ask wonderingly. I can already feel the tears pricking at my eyes. My face is hot.

"My one and only," he answers flatly.

It takes another moment for that to set in. I ball my hand into a fist around the little velvet box and hurl it as hard as I can against the wall as I shriek, "BASTARD!" at the top of my voice. "You stupid! Asshole! Lyin'! Cheatin'! Bastard! How dare you? How God-Damned Dare You?" I am practically screaming through my tears by the time I finish my tirade. The box has left a little black scuff mark on our taupe-eggshell wall. Who knows where it bounced. It doesn't matter that Bill's not here, it's him I'm yelling at. Lafayette knows that and he kneels quickly and settles his arms around me as I gulp for air. I'm actively sobbing now.

He rocks me back and forth as I continue breaking with my grief. I am shaking with anger at his absolute gall even as I weep for the lie and the loss of our three years. I hear my phone go off at some point. I've shed no small amount of tears over him this last week, but it hasn't been like this. I'd been shocked, and exasperated. I'd felt sad, and betrayed. None of it had been as bad as this. I was inconsolable. I cried out all the tears I had and still I sat there heaving and my friend gave up doing anything more than staying beside me to be a body I could lean against.

He'd spent at least two years lying to me about our finances and sleeping with another woman while he told me every night he loved me and he let me love him back. Just over a week ago I would have blindly accepted such a ring with delight. After talking to Amelia I'd decided that he had not committed to me beyond what we had because he knew deep down it would be wrong to do so. I'd been thankful for it. Grateful, even, that he'd held back, that there had been a line he didn't cross. For every breach of trust there was at least some reservation. That he held me in enough esteem for that, at least. This was depraved.

"Give it to me," I asked my friend. He handed me the ring. I slid it on my finger. It fit perfectly. It wasn't for her. It had been almost a flicker of hope, but no. I took it off and gave it back to him.

I quietened down, stilling myself. There was nothing to say.

"I hate him." It was barely a whisper. Okay, maybe one thing.

"You're not the only one," Lafayette agreed.

He gave my back a final rub and got up to move around the room. He was looking for the ring box. He must have found it.

"Do you need anything else from the safe?" I shook my head. I can hear him locking it up again and the drawer sliding shut. I'm fixated on that scuff on the wall. I'm done here now. I don't want to be in this room any more. I don't want to be in this house any more. Not this city, nor this state. I settle for the room. Scooping up my small pile of papers, Lafayette pulls my arm to get me up and I follow him to the den, which is full of not-my things. Bill's new couches, Bill's electronics, Bill's paintings. My phone rings again from somewhere else. The kitchen maybe? I ignore it.

I'm not sure exactly how long I've been sitting here when I hear Lafayette ask what he can do for me. I guess it's been more than just a few minutes. I look at him, and shake my head. I come to, finally.

"There's nothing in here that's mine," I say, looking around. I may just as well have entered the room. "We're done here." I say flatly.

"We didn't get to the rest of the furniture," he says.

"I'll sort it out tomorrow. The movers can help. I need to leave here now."

He doesn't argue. I stand up and follow him to the kitchen to get my phone and purse and the garbage from breakfast. I'll just take it with me. I don't bother setting the alarm as I leave, but I do lock Bill's front door. I walk down to my rented car with Lafayette trailing behind me. I cringe when I turn around and realize only this moment that I probably won't see him again until the summer, if he makes it home.

"Girl, I'm not sure you should be driving or being alone right now," he says.

I hold my hand up, shaking my head. "I'll be fine now. I'm sorry. For all that. I'm sorry. I was..." I trail off.

He cuts me off with a tight hug. "Shh. I know exactly what 'you was'," he says. "And don' be sorry. The only thing you done wrong is loving a man who turned out to be a piece of shit through and through, and while I'm willin' to concede you got me beat... we all been there from time to time." He finishes, dropping into a bit of a lilt. He's not being sassy right now, it's just his plain old normal accent. It's home. He pulls back and gives me a small smile, which I return in spite of myself.

"I didn't even ask when's the next time you'll be home," I say.

"Not til' July, but when I do, you and me and Miss Amelia will do ourselves some catching up first thing," he assures me.

"I'm really going to miss you," I say, honestly. I'm still hugging him.

"Sookie you got me on the phone any time you need me, and you know I need to keep you blushin' with my excapades," he drawls. It's not goodbye. It's see you in a while, and talk to you soon.

I give a final squeeze before releasing him.

"Buzz me when you get back to your hotel, just so I know," he says. I nod. He sees me into the car, and I go.

Back at the hotel I fill my miniscule washing-basin of a bathtub with hot water and sink in. At first I'd been convinced that the whole experience of packing up would be like what it had just ultimately proved to be, the entire time. I'd prepared myself to be crushed the second I'd walked in the door yesterday. I hadn't been, and I'd let myself think that I could get through this like a grown woman. That I could do what needed doing and then go home. I had been wrong, wrong, wrong. That was just par for the course, wasn't it, regarding everything with Bill? Stupid, silly, sightless, sad, sorry, sappy, Sookie...

"Hello?" I asked. I'd come right in here. My phone had been right outside the tub, so I just leaned over and picked it up and answered it when it rang, still in my bath.

"Sookie?"

"This is she, who's calling please?" I was on complete auto-pilot.

"Ah. This is Eric Northman."

"Oh. Hi Eric."

"Hi Sookie...Is everything okay? I've been trying to call you all afternoon."

"Oh. I'm sorry about that. Something came up."

"Here as well, actually. Listen I just have a minute, but I'm afraid I can't meet you for dinner tonight. We're trying to figure out... well, it's just work stuff, but unfortunately I really need to be here."

"That's fine, Eric. You've already given so much of your time."

"Sookie are you alright? You sound odd."

"I suppose not really, no."

"Can I give you a call later? I'm glad I was able to catch you, but I really did only have a minute."

"Sure Eric, I'll talk to you later."

"Talk to you later then. Bye Sookie."

"Goodbye." I hung up and set the phone back down. That's where it stayed while I dried off. This hotel did not have any robes for me to wear, and mine was still at Bill's with the rest of my stuff. My phone was still in the bathroom when he called back after his meeting that night, but I didn't hear it, because I was asleep. After two days of exertion and two nights of pretty restless sleep, I slept for a long time. It would serve just fine, since I had a long day ahead of me. I'd scheduled the movers to come at nine, and I wanted to get over there well ahead of them to do what I could about the furniture. I had a bit of time here, and one more important thing to do. I sat down at the uncomfortable desk and found a few sheets of complimentary stationery and began to write.

March 21, 2012

Bill,

I've moved my things out of your condo. Please find my keys to the house, the safe, the mailbox, and your car enclosed with this letter. I have contacted the utilities and removed my name from all accounts. My service with the electric company will end on the 31st. You will need to contact them to make arrangements for yourself before then to avoid an interruption of service. They have already been paid through that date.

I will be returning to my home in Bon Temps, LA. Learning as I have this week the great extent of your dishonesty, I now believe that our relationship was headed toward its end regardless of what you have referred to as your indiscretion. I have searched my heart and can find no forgiveness for you there. I have no desire to have any future contact with you and I sincerely hope you will respect my wishes.

Sookie Stackhouse

It took a lot of effort to get that written down so concisely, but I was proud of the result. My first draft had quickly morphed into, "Jerk Jerk Jerk Jerk I hate you." Thankfully, with the third and final sheet of paper, I got it out. I folded the letter and put it in the envelope printed with the hotel's name and address in the top corner. I did a quick once over of the room, but I didn't have much here, and hadn't left anything behind. I dropped off my keys, checking out of the hotel. They assured me it was being covered as a corporate expense. I guess Pam really had taken care of everything. I meant to send her a little present when I got home.

On the way to the car I found a missed call and a message from Eric, right around the same time.

Sent by Eric - 9:27 p.m. Sorry again for tonight. Guess you've gone to bed. I'm home and up for a while.

There was another missed call from him just after eleven. It was still early, but I called him anyway. I am sure I seemed pretty rude when we spoke yesterday. Unfortunately I get no answer. He'll see that I tried. I stopped at our post office on my way to the condo and dropped off a change of address forms, then I got to the bank just as it opened and changed my address with them too. I would probably be closing this account at some point, but for now I didn't want my statements going to Bill. When I arrived, I checked his mailbox to make sure there was nothing in there for me. There were a couple of envelopes, so I grabbed them and put them in my purse. I'd found no trace of the letter he had mentioned from the school I applied to, but then I hadn't delved into any of his personal spaces, only my own and common things.

I called the moving company to confirm they were coming, and they were. I strode into the guest room and pulled the drawers from the vanity and managed to lift the three folding mirrors on top off of its base and carry them into the hallway. The frame was really too heavy for me to move alone, so I just pulled it away from the wall and transferred all of his remaining pictures and baubles to the floor as planned. I'd noticed the smell of garbage as I'd passed the kitchen so I went right ahead and changed the liner, adding the milk and his leftovers from the fridge to the bag and threw it all away. I was moving with purpose and indifference this morning, not letting myself dwell on anything beyond the tasks themselves. I realized I did have some movies tucked away in one of the cabinets in the living room, along with the chess set that had belonged to my mother's parents, which was on display. I was packing up the final box as the movers arrived.

They got started with the boxes, and I was sure to warn them about the books and the silver, since these were considerably heavier than everything else. I hadn't marked anything as 'fragile' but they had a large roll of bright orange stickers and they used them on the kitchen stuff and the box I'd labelled as "Miscellany Gran/Jason" which contained most of the keepsakes from the guestroom. They had no qualms at all about moving the vanity table, dresser, and the bookcase which had been my grandmother's out of the room. They seemed to cotton on pretty quickly to the fact that only half the house was packed, and one of the big burly beefcakes had given me a few conciliatory little smiles. I'm sure they've seen this all before in their line of work. The pair worked incredibly quickly, I thought.

They had everything loaded in ninety minutes and were asking me to do a final walkthrough to make sure I hadn't missed anything. I did so, but I'd been pretty thorough.

"No bed?" one asked, double-checking as they followed me through the last sweep.

"I wouldn't sleep on that again if you paid me," I answered shortly. They didn't ask after anything else.

We were done, and I gave them the each twenty dollars. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. They were being paid anyway by their company of course, it was just a little tip. They assured me that I'd have delivery in seven business days, so, by the end of next week. I thanked them, and then I was alone again.

I shifted my laptop, my big suitcase, and my new smaller case close to the door along with my purse and my coat. Then I went ahead and did the real final walkthrough. I'd achieved my goal. I could see very plainly as I walked from room to room where I'd been for the brief period of time when this had been my home. It was now just empty space. There were pictures of us hanging in the hallway and I stopped to look at them. I took one down. It was he and I when we'd first moved into the old apartment. He was posed showing off the flower boxes that he had built right after the bulbs I'd planted had started to sprout up. I was standing there beaming at him. It had taken us a bunch of tries to get it right, because we'd staged it using the camera's time delay, and the window kept catching the light and blacking us out. We had finally got it right, and we were both awash in the golden afternoon sun looking genuinely happy. I'd been genuinely happy. I tucked it into the front of my suitcase and then wheeled it out the door.

I grabbed my remaining belongings and set the alarm and then I was out the door and locking up. I headed over to the mailbox and separated out all my keys, put them in the envelope with my letter, sealed it, and slid it through the slot. All moved out. I got myself into the car and I sent a message off to Lafayette that I was on my way to the airport. I sent the same one to Pam, and she called me back immediately.

"Everything went okay then? The movers were fine?"

"They were swell, Pam. Efficient, tactful, and polite. How are things there, still hectic?"

"Yes, but I am technically on my lunch break so I am ignoring it all for the moment."

"Aww, I hope he's not too hard on you this week."

"He'll be fine. He needs to keep me on his good side or I'll fuck with his schedule." I laughed a little at that.

"Any issues while you were there?" she asks.

"Some, but I don't want to get into it again right now, no offence. I had a rough night."

"Alright then. Well Barbie, give me a call when you get bored out there in the middle of nowhere. Do you even have cell service?"

"Yes Pam, We have cell service in Bon Temps. We even have indoor running water and that new fangled electricity."

"How very modern."

"I'll be living in the future while you're still stuck in the past out here," I joke back lamely. The difference in time zones... it's the best I've got.

"I'll try not to envy you."

"You do that. Pam?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For the whole everything. You've been amazing."

She brakes in her quick rapport. "You deserve better than what you had. It'll be good. Chin up, carry on, and all that."

I give another little laugh and say goodbye to her. I head off to return my car. That in itself was no problem. When asked if I wanted to pay with the card on file, I went ahead and gave him my own instead. Waiting for the shuttle took a really long time, but I wasn't in a particular hurry. The next flight out was in five hours, so I had plenty of time to kill. I felt ridiculous lugging all my bags on and off the little bus when it finally did show up. I was the only one on it. I felt like maybe the driver could have offered a hand, but he just sat there listening to his music while ignoring my struggle, yet being attentive to its completion so we could go. Thanks buddy.

I checked in at the desk and confirmed my ticket to leave on the next flight out. I ended up checking both suitcases, which made me uneasy and relieved all at once. I don't like flying in the normal course without at least one change of clothes, just in case they lose my luggage, but with the laptop and my coat and purse I was already bogged down. If they did lose my bags, at least I'd have a washing machine at my disposal. I finally got settled in the lounge and sent a text to Eric saying, "Tag. Flying at 6." I got one back right away telling me he was in a meeting and would call later. It ended up that he didn't though. I tried to doze off for a little while and I think I succeeded for maybe twenty minutes. I forced myself to sleep on the plane. When I arrived in New Orleans my luggage was indeed there waiting for me, thank goodness, and so was my reservation for yet another rental car.

I folded my coat and my laptop back over the smaller suitcase and flounced up to the parking garage. An officious young woman was running the show up there, directing a gaggle of men who were fetching the cars and keeping the short queue of people waiting for their rentals moving along. She met me with a winning smile and must have found me looking harried. At her word a spry fellow game over and grabbed my bags, hoisting them one after the other into the trunk, and securing my carry-ons in the front seat. I signed for the car and was off in minutes. I wished I'd gotten her name. Her supervisor needed to hear her praises sung.

Once I was on the highway I went ahead and turned my phone back on. I had no messages. I called Jason to let him know I was on my way, and then I called Amelia to let her know that I was home, or at least heading home, but more home than I'd been. She started to ask me about the packing up and I tell her it had gone alright.

"You're full of it, I talked to Lafayette last night," she replies. I get my back up immediately. The second worst part of any personal crisis is the fact that all the people around are indeed discussing it at the exclusion of yourself. All the fretting people do about "but what will people say"? Yeah, that's a hundred percent a valid concern, because people talk. It's what they do. I wasn't feeling up to being confronted by that reality, least of all from friends.

"Then why'd you even ask me?" I inquire. I make it clear with my tone that I'm already through with this line of questioning.

"I'm allowed to be concerned, Sookie," she's being a bit more gentle now, and I'm inclined to back down too. I still don't want to rehash yesterday right this minute. Since she's only on the phone, she has no real gauge on the tenor of my silence. She gets it completely wrong. In her same soothing voice she presses, "He said he's never seen you like that, ever."

"I don't want to talk about this now!" It's rarely a good idea to yell at your friends. It's particularly rude when they were just trying to console you. It's a disaster when it's Amelia you're yelling at.

"Fine, alright. You only had to say so."

"I just did."

"What the hell is your problem? I just want to know what's going on with you!" she fires right back.

"Why don't you just call Lafayette and ask him."

"Sookie, what the fuck?"

"I'm hanging up now." I do so.

I know full well I'm out of line, but darn it, that girl just needs to learn when not to push. Now I get to sit here for the next few hours stewing over the fact that I've just pissed off my best friend. I've been straining to hold it together all day and now that I'm finally alone I'm doing a terrible job of it. I'm very tired. Emotionally, I'm a post-apocalyptic wasteland. When my phone rings again I turn the sound off and chuck it over my shoulder into the back seat. It's the middle of the night anyway, who even calls people at this hour? I don't know why Lafayette deemed it appropriate to tell her my business. That was for me to tell. Do I want people calling me up and demanding me to explain myself for my latest breakdown? I don't think so. I'm just fed up with the pair of them. I flip on the radio and start punching through the channels, jabbing my finger into the buttons. This thing is useless. The buttons are all huge. It's so dumbed down as to be barely operable by someone of normal intelligence. Who designed this garbage? And who let them? There's nothing worth listening to on here. After a few more haphazard stabs at the console I manage to turn the stupid thing off.

All the while I am having my solitary little hissy fit, a part of me is sitting aside, fully conscious of my infantile behaviour. I'm too exhausted, I'm too stressed out. Effectively I'm a raw nerve and any stimulus makes me want to scream. The last rational thing I've thought or done is turning my phone off. I do not need to be speaking to anyone else while I'm in this state. I have to stop and get gas and I don't even think about going inside to get something to eat or drink. Cause I really want to deal with the kind of person who works at a convenience store at four o'clock in the morning just now, right? Wrong. I don't. I slam the nozzle back into the pump when I finish then I slam my door as I get back in. I got gasoline on my hands, and now it's stinking up the whole car.

I finally, finally get to my house and it's nearly six. It's still dark. My porch light isn't on. I fumble with the key and finally get the door open. I leave everything in the car. I don't turn on a single light. It smells musty in here. Thanks for getting by to open the windows, Jas. I stalk to the back of the house and throw myself down on my grandmother's old, lumpy bed, on top of her hideous knit afghan, fully dressed, and that's how I fall asleep, with my keys still clutched in my hands.

It's dark when I wake up, and I am completely disoriented. There's a pounding and it's coming from both inside and outside my head, and in different rhythms. Someone is knocking on the door. With a groan I pull myself off the bed and stumble down the hall. I check through the curtained window and it's Jason. He wasn't pounding on the door, he was kicking it, because his arms are full. I open up.

"Sook?" he asks, questioning.

"That's me."

"I saw the car this morning and I figured it was, I just brought over some..."

"What time is it?" I cut him off.

"Uh, going on eight?"

"At night?" Yup, still out of it.

"Yeah...?" he offers tentatively. Because it's full dark like this at the other eight o'clock, ever. I start patting my cheeks a little roughly, trying to wake myself up.

"I'm sorry, I guess I slept the whole day."

"Can I come in?" he asks, hoisting the paper bags he's carrying for emphasis.

"Yeah, of course, come in. Give me a minute, I need to get some stuff from the car, I'll meet you right in there," I say. My purse and my computer are just sitting on the front seat, but I've got my butt in the air sticking out of the back as I feel around under the seats trying to find where my phone got to.

"You still got stuff in the trunk?" I jump at the sound of his voice right behind me.

"Yeah," I say. "Thanks."

He strolls around to the trunk and gives it a couple of taps to let me know to open it. I crouch up to hit the push button on the keys to pop the trunk and finally see my phone wedged under the driver's seat. Fourteen. Fourteen missed calls. Super.

I haul myself out of the back and then my belongings out of the front, and follow Jason and my suitcases back inside.

"If you don't mind me saying so, sis, you look like death warmed over."

"Thanks brother."

"I brought ya some groceries."

"I love you."

"Uh-huh."

I walk into the kitchen and he follows me, flipping on the lights. I take a seat at the table, and he does the same. He's quiet for a long moment, looking me over. Finally he asks me to tell him what's going on, so I do. I tell him everything. During one of his breaks to curse Bill, I clicked through my missed call list. Jason himself, Lafayette, Eric, Amelia, and a number I didn't recognize even by its area code. I'll call Amelia first thing after Jason leaves. I'm not making any calls, but I'm playing with my phone at the table. Darn it. Stupid sales guy was right. I quickly set the phone down and push it away from me deliberately.

"I told him back when he moved in with you that if he hurt you, I'd kill him," Jason finishes. I hadn't known that. It was the sort of thing he would say though. An idle threat. Except he didn't sound very idle right now.

"He better not ever show his face here," he says.

"Nice, Jas."

"I'm serious. I see him, I'm bound to break a knuckle on his teeth, and I got fishing plans for Sunday that I need my reel hand for. He just better stay away."

"I'm sure he will."

"Crystal's cookin tomorrow night. You coming by?"

"Have you moved her in properly then?" I ask.

"Good as. She goes home to visit sometimes, but it's easier when she just stays."

"I'll be by," I answer. "What time?"

"Six or so. And then I'm grillin' on Sunday."

"I wouldn't miss it."

"I should get home then, you gonna be okay for the night?"

"As okay as I can be. Apparently I have a few calls to return."

"Well, 'f you change your mind... Crystal wanted me to tell you you can stay with us." He starts to get up again, so I follow suit. When we're both standing, I wrap my arms around his middle.

"Thank you Jason."

"Alright now, you can quit all that." He hugs me back and it feels reluctant, but after a moment when I don't let him go, he gives me a good long squeeze in earnest. "I'm glad to see you home," he says, finally releasing me and extricating himself from my embrace.

"I'm really relieved to be here," I say honestly.

"Right then. I'm due back at the house, so we'll see ya tomorrow. Call if you need anything."

"Alright, I will do," I reply. I stand at the door and wave him off while he retreats down the porch and leaps up into his truck and heads off, spraying gravel.

Back on my lonesome, I decide to go ahead and return my calls. I'm both well rested and awake now. I'm still a bit raw, but Bitch Barbie is back in her box. Lafayette is first, and he is all apologies about spilling the beans to Amelia, but then once those are through he very delicately hints that I need to call her. I cut through the crap and admit I was an unholy terror when she called. It's her I owe the apology, and I know it. I knew it even at the time, but she was pushing my buttons and wouldn't quit. I make a joke about going to face the music, and he says he has to do the same, and then excuses himself to watch Glee. I've been banned from watching it by him. Apparently I ruin it when I try to sing along. Hmph.

I stare at the bag of groceries on my counter and realize that putting them away is a major priority, well ahead of facing my shame on the Amelia front. I carefully store my supply of bread, butter, milk, cheese, breakfast cereal, hotdogs, buns, and catsup, and then Amelia is calling me herself. Thanks Lafayette. I bite back the urge to be annoyed and answer my phone.

"I'm sorry," she says immediately.

"I'm sorry too, and I was more wrong. It's no excuse, but I was just at the end of my rope."

"I know hun, I'm just worried about you."

I want to tell her she shouldn't be, but I know I'd be worrying after her if she were in my position. "I'm okay now. I'm home, I've slept. Crystal's cooking for me tomorrow. It's going to be okay."

"He's a son of a bitch."

"You get no argument from me."

We chatted for a while about my plans to get settled in. She seemed to be drawing out the conversation, which I didn't mind. I started to unpack a little bit, and was checking through the house as we chatted. I found that everything was more or less in order. I did go ahead and throw open almost all the windows. I had a nice cross breeze going.

"I'm kind of dreading my stuff showing up here," I admit.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to want to unpack and then pack again."

"Well, you'll have to unpack some," she says.

"Oh, I know. I'll end up doing it all, I'm sure. So much of it feels like...well like a bygone era."

"I guess that makes sense. Don't just throw things out though," she sounds tentative.

"No, I won't, but I think I'm going to run with this fresh start thing as much as I can."

"That's good. That's important. You need to focus on you. You've been part of you and him for a really long time."

"I know. It's going to take some getting used to. I'm so sorry again for hanging up on you yesterday. I really hope I can keep my head out of bad places in the future." I'm hanging up some of my things now, and sorting out the dirty clothes. I don't have a laundry hamper here. Or detergent. I pace back to the kitchen and start a new shopping list.

"It's forgiven."

"Ugh. I need a job. I have so much to buy. I'm going to get started on that tomorrow."

"My offer's still open if you want to stay here for a while."

"I thank you for that, but you were right before. I need to be on my own."

A short while later I say goodnight to her. I'm lucky she's so forgiving. Heading back through the house again I can't help but shake the feeling that I'm now living in yet more borrowed space. Everything here had been my grandmother's and now it was nearly empty. Even familiar things like her old couches were gone. They'd been shabby. They'd survived my father and aunt growing up, and then Jason and I. It was a wonder they'd lasted as long as they had. The pastor at the church had graciously accepted a lot of what we'd donated, but I had the sense that he'd be passing more than some of what we'd gifted on to the parish dump. It would be a nice project for me, to make this place home. Soon, really soon, I amended to myself hopefully, I'd have a new apartment to tend to, but I was determined to keep this place up as well. It could use some work.

I settled down to happy planning for the rest of the evening. I resolved to contact my old school tomorrow and try to get myself into the rotation as a substitute, if nothing else. Maybe I could post up some fliers at the library about tutoring. It really wasn't the same up here as it was in the city, I knew. Most of the families around here probably wouldn't have the budget for the fifty dollar an hour rate I'd been getting. I was a certified teacher, not some kid babysitting after school and helping with homework for gas money. It hadn't been by chance that most of the kids I'd worked with were from affluent homes. I'd have to think about that some more. Maybe I'd readjust my rates for the area.

I heated myself up a couple of the hotdogs that Jason brought over for me and finished my unpacking. There was an impractical little writing table in the front room, but instead I set up my laptop at the kitchen table. I fitted the little mobile broadband card that Eric had picked out in, and was relieved when it worked right away. It was slow in comparison to what I'd been used to, but it worked, so thank God for small favours. I started to browse around for thank you gifts for Pam and Eric but then it occurred to me that having stuff shipped from online might seem a little bit impersonal after all they'd done. Instead, I added it to my to-do list for the following day. Though I wasn't really tired, I went to bed. I needed to get my sleep back on track. I tossed and turned for a couple of hours and then finally found a comfortable niche betwixt the lumps and drifted off.

I woke up early Friday morning and ate my cold cereal. I found a box of stale tea in one of the cabinets and as it had promised to be, it was a lousy substitute for a cup of coffee. I showered and dressed and headed over to the Walmart. I had a huge cart, and I was filling it easily. I found an Easter display and grabbed up a couple of baskets. I had the great idea to fill them with things for Pam and for Eric as I wound through the store. I found a Barbie doll that kind of looked like her, a box of chocolate cherries, and a little pedicure set that smelled of peppermint and rosemary. For him, I was a little stumped. I finally settled on a movie that I'd been shocked to learn he'd never seen and a book he'd mentioned he'd been meaning to read. It didn't seem like quite enough, so I also found a travel umbrella (for all the rain they got up there), and a brass keychain with fleur-de-lis emblem. I figured that was kind of nice since he likes to drive, and it's kind of emblematic of New Orleans, and a tiny hint at the day we'd toured the gardens. I hoped he wouldn't think it was weird. Well, he didn't have to use it if he didn't want to.

I had a little lunch by myself in town and wrote out their thank you notes, then went right over to the Pack and Ship, and had their gifts sent to their office. I didn't remember the address, but I just looked it up on my phone. I left from there and went ahead over to the school to make my inquiries about substitute teaching. One of the ladies in the front office had been there for ages and she remembered me. Mrs. Park came out from behind her desk and greeted me like the prodigal daughter returned. I hope that boded well. We chatted for a bit about what was new in town. I told her my situation in terms of settling back here temporarily in the hopes of returning to New Orleans by the fall term.

I got back to the house and pulled around to the side door so I could load things out of the car right into the porch and the kitchen. I got busy cleaning. I switched on the old radio and I flitted around the house, washing linens and my clothes, pulling down curtains, and dusting. I heard a knock on the front door and swished a curtain out of the way to show a man obscured by a huge gift basket. Bemused, I swept a palm across my sweaty forehead and swung it open to see what was being delivered.

He shifted the wrapped cellophane basket across his hip as he said, "Sookie. This was on your front porch."

"Bill," I stated flatly. "What are you doing here?"

He paused for a long moment and I took that moment to step across and look out in front of the house. There was a car pulled into the driveway. He was alone. I lifted the basket out of his hands and stepped back and set it inside the door. I did not invite him to come in.

"Well?" I put my hands up on my hips.

"Sookie, I..."

I cut him off. "Was I not clear in my letter, Bill? I don't want to see you."

"Letter? I've just..."

"Check your darn mailbox. Go do it now and get off my porch."

"My mailbox? I've been out of town this week, I've just driven down from Little Rock," he starts to say.

"I've said all I have to say. Your keys are all sittin' in your mailbox. I've got no more business with you."

"Sweetheart, please..."

"I told you not to call me that again."

"Sookie, listen to me..."

"Get off my porch, get off my land, before I call the Sheriff, and I swear to God you do it now, or I'll skip Bud and go straight to callin' Jason." I'm feeling eerily calm right now. I was ready to make good on my threats, too.

"Sookie I need to explain!"

"Explain what? Explain how you've been sleeping around with Lorena the whole time we've been together," he opens his mouth to interrupt and I go right over him, "And don't you dare deny it when everyone you two work with could see it plain. Maybe you want to explain about how Area Five has been paying our rent for the last two years, or the whole cost of our move? What did you even do with the money I gave you Bill? It's not like you needed it."

"Sookie, that was for our... I knew you wanted to contribute to our home," he starts up.

"Oh you just know me so well huh? Well that makes one of us doesn't it."

"You're taking these things entirely out of context, how did you even..."

"How did I even what? Learn about the rest of your lies? I don't doubt for a minute you've got plenty more I haven't heard about. Maybe I could have found a few more, but I didn't pay your things much mind when I was clearing out."

"Clearing out?"

"I've moved out Bill. Like I said, your keys are waiting for you when you get back to Seattle. Go on and get 'em now." I move to shut the door on him but he wrenches his leg and his shoulder into the door, jarring me backwards.

"LET ME SPEAK!"

"Back UP!" I scream back at him. He does. Each of us take a moment to breathe.

"Sookie I was ending it with Lorena. I've been building a life with you. I'm moving upwards at work. The money...I've been setting it aside. I knew you wanted to chip in, I knew you were proud of that little hole in the wall we used to live in...I've been saving it for the future, for our family, so you can be a part of that..."

"Our family! Me be a part of that? And just when exactly was I to find out my part in that?"

"I don't intend to discuss these plans for us when you're being so obstreperous."

"Oh I found the ring, Bill! I'm aware of what you had planned for us. "My one and only?" You were really aiming to draw that one down to the wire, weren't ya! Or even were you?" He has no response to that. "Get out of here," I tell him once again.

"Sookie you need to stop this. It seems that all is out in the open now, but if you'd calm down for half a second you'd see that it doesn't actually effect our situation," he weasels.

"Our situation Bill? Did you even love me ever?"

He doesn't answer, for long enough that it's an answer in itself. I go to push the door closed again, moving behind it. I'm through with this.

"Damn it, STOP THIS!" he shouts again, and pushes back hard against the door with both hands and all his weight behind them.

The door hits me straight in the face and I feel my nose crush and a sharp crimson fogginess wells up in me instantly. My body slams back against the wall and I feel my head bounce against a solid beam. Twice. Suddenly the force that pins me is gone and I hear him say my name again as I crumple to the floor. I don't look anywhere but straight ahead of me. I crawl my way over to the table grabbing for my phone. It tumbles onto the floor and I clutch it to me and dial.

In a moment, "Ayup?"

"Jason, bring your shot gun. Right now."