From the Waist Down
Chapter 18
"Hm," Pam grumbled, assessing the pretty blond waitress for a good thirty seconds before she got up. No movement. Not even a twitch. "Well, I tried. If you're going to be a vegetable, I guess you're going to be one."
I opened the door and looked into the room. Pam was getting up from her spot across from Sookie. There was no change in her face. Her expression was still fixed, her hands still folded limply across her lap. She still looked like a living doll.
"You ate," Pam nodded at me. "But you still look like hell."
"Did she say anything?"
"No. She just sat there and stared at me."
I placed my empty glass upon the dresser and returned to my lover's side. I had no idea what to do for her, how to ease her suffering. I suffered too, suffered watching her. We were disconnected, and yet, I could not detach from her completely. I longed to bring her peace. It was simply instinct to pull her close, to touch her in comfort. My palm drifted up to her cheek with purpose, but not with choice. I found her vacant eyes, and I swore that within them I could see her struggling. When my fingers connected with her, she did not draw away.
"Sookie," I frowned, finding the soul she'd tucked away inside herself. "I am scared."
"I need to go home," she replied faintly.
"My lover, I do not think…" I started, already worrying about the implications, the variables.
"I need to go home without you," she said.
"Sookie," I repeated, furrowing my brow.
"The trip to see Felipe… It was too much for me, Eric. I need some time away. I just need to remember how to live again. I need to get away from all the politics."
"It isn't safe for you to be alone, Sookie. You could get hurt. You could…" I paused, choking on the words.
"Victor is dead," she said, stuttering on the finally dead vampire's name. "The King knows everything. What else is there?"
She slid off the bed to her feet and looked between me and Pam, her face hardening with her decision. My heart was stricken, like I'd been stabbed with a rod of silver. Pam's face was as flat as mine was raw with emotion.
"I just need to be myself for awhile," Sookie sighed, looking at the floor. "I need to figure out who I am again, see how much of me has really changed. Here, with you, I'm Sookie Stackhouse, the v…the victim. But out there, I might be Sookie Stackhouse, the survivor."
"I do not understand," I sighed, not ready to resign myself to her leaving. What could I do to stop her? Chain her to the bed?
"I know," she said. "Will you drive me home?"
Reluctantly, I agreed to take her back to Bon Temps again. On the drive, she said nothing. Through our bond, I could feel her conflict of emotions: resolution, independence, fear, and doubt. She looked over at me across the seat, but could think of nothing to say. At the house, I walked her to the door. The lights were on inside, and I knew her small human and were family would be waiting for her.
"I love you," she said to me, her voice struggling to be above a whisper.
"I love you too," I replied. I took her hand in both of mine, burying her palm in my fingers. I did not wish to release her, but the door opened behind her. I let her go. She went into the house and shut the door.
I remembered how to breathe as soon as I was inside. Amelia and Jason looked up from the kitchen table and scurried into the front hall to embrace me. I held them off at arm's length. Just not ready for that one yet. I took a deep breath and forced myself not to hear Amelia's brutally loud thoughts. But the first one was pretty hard to ignore. Now that she's back, she's going to want to see the damage.
"What did they do?" I begged her, wondering about the old house.
"The outside wall will need to be repainted. Jason did some work on it while you were gone."
"Yeah, you shouldn't need any repairs, sis. Just a couple coats of white paint and it'll be square."
"I'll go to the store tomorrow," I resolved. Simple enough. Painting is very relaxing.
We walked into the living room, the three of us, and my eyes fell immediately on the hideous floral couch. He'd been sitting on that couch and I'd never liked it anyway. I picked up one side of it to gauge its weight. Jason ran around to grab the other side immediately and Amelia swung open the front door.
"Tomorrow," I groaned, lugging the furniture out of the house with my brother. "We're going to buy a new couch."
"Hey, maybe we could go to Sears or something!" Amelia smiled cheerfully.
"I don't know if I can afford all that. I was just going to go to a couple garage sales." I frowned as we walked back from the trash pile beside the mail box.
"Oh come on, Sook. This is new furniture. When was the last time you bought furniture?"
"Uh…never," I admitted.
"It'll be fun! At least we could go and look. Get our minds off…uh…things."
"Clever distraction," I nodded.
"Exactly!"
It took me a month to get back to work, but as the days passed and I began to think about things like Christmas, I had resumed the regular parts of my irregular life. On Sam's request, and maybe a little of mine too, I worked mostly day shifts. If my bank account's status was any indication, though, I was just about ready to return to evenings. The days are really slow except for the lunch rush, and I missed the piles of tips waiting to go to the bank. I'd been eating at home more, and none of the stuff I'd been making has been particularly fancy or expensive. I wasn't down to ramen noodles yet, but I wasn't far above it with spaghetti and canned sauce.
Sam touched me on the shoulder and I jumped, startled by the unexpected touch. He tried to smile kindly, but I could see the worry, plain as day on his face. He leaned closer to me, across the bar.
"Hey, Sook, you okay?" His eyes were wide.
"I'm fine, Sam!" I smiled at him, and it wasn't a forced thing like it was a few weeks ago when I started working. "I was just thinking about going back to nights."
"What? Look, Sook, I don't think that's such a good idea…"
"Sam, you gotta stop treating me with kid gloves," I warned him in a friendly sort of way. "I'm not going to break."
Sam laughed, and nodded thoughtfully. His worry was still there, like a cloud over his head, and maybe it would never really go away. Still, we all had to start treating me like I was Sookie Stackhouse, the telepathic waitress. It was just like Pam said. I was better than some sheepish victim that couldn't take six steps without screaming. And anyway, the nightmares were less frequent now, the scares less terrifying. I'd probably never get to watch Thelma and Louise again, but oh well. Maybe I could just fast forward to the good stuff.
I drove home at five, just as the sun was falling into the cold December horizon. Amelia was already there because we'd made an effort to be at home at the same time for each other. I could smell the somewhat boring scent of tomato sauce brewing in the kitchen, and I sat down at the table to tell my roommate about my day. My book sat near my chair and I picked it up to skim through the last few pages I'd read. Amelia and I had gotten it from the big bookstore chain in Clarice. It was about surviving trauma, and what survivors could do to get their lives sorted out. I'd already written a nice letter to the author.
"Jason called a minute ago," Amelia said, looking back at me while she dried a couple of dishes.
"Oh, is he coming over tonight?" I blinked. Was it Wednesday already?
"Yep, and you know he's going to want some of this delicious pasta too." Amelia looked at the noodles she'd drained into our strainer. "I'm really getting sick of pasta."
"Me too."
"You know what? Bills be damned! Tomorrow, I'm buying some potatoes."
"Really?" I squeaked with barely contained joy.
"You bet. And we're going to make potato gratin and, and…" She looked in the fridge. "And hot dogs!"
"Sounds delicious," I giggled.
Jason knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for us to answer. Typical brother stuff, and I didn't mind. He waltzed into the kitchen and peered over Amelia's shoulder at the supper she was preparing. His eyes bulged a little and he rubbed his stomach thoughtfully.
"Mmm, spaghetti?" He asked, a little hope glinting in his eyes.
"Yep," I nodded.
"Didn't you have spaghetti last Wednesday too? You must've known I was comin'. I love spaghetti."
"Yes we did, and uh, yes we did. You come over every Wednesday."
"Keep making spaghetti and I'll keep coming over," Jason grinned. "You ready to go?"
"Yep," I nodded.
One of the things the book suggested was having a routine. If you had a routine, you could keep your mind off things until you were ready to think about them. I'd always had a routine, but I wanted to add one little thing to it. So, as soon as I came back, Jason and I made a weekly date to see Gran. He walked me down into the cemetery, the place where we'd played as children, and we stopped at Gran's grave. Jason never really had much to say to her. He'd tell her about some pie he had and how it wasn't as great as Gran's pie. Then he'd run out of steam and stand next to a tree while I told Gran about my own day. I told her when it started getting easier, when I'd had a bad dream. I told her how much I missed Eric, but that I wasn't ready to see him again.
"Tonight I miss him a lot, Gran," I frowned, playing with the grass in front of her headstone. "I feel like there's this part of me that's missing. I think tonight I'll call him."
We walked back to the house after an hour. Jason didn't need a flashlight to lead me back through the woods, but I appreciated him turning on the light and guiding me anyway. We walked out of the trees and Jason went on and on about Gran's spaghetti sauce and how great it was. I was distracted by the big car sitting on the gravel. It wasn't a bad sort of surprise though, just an unexpected one. Eric was standing on the porch, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Amelia had the front door open, and they were just talking mildly. I wondered how long he'd been waiting for me.
"Wow, speak of the devil," Jason smiled, taking me up the porch steps. He walked into the house without me and Amelia shut the door, winking as she did.
"Sookie," Eric murmured. Through our bond, which buzzed happily now that he was so close to me, I could feel how worried he was. He looked at me for several seconds and neither of us said anything.
"Why don't we sit on the porch swing?" I asked him. I walked in front of him and sat down, and Eric sat awkwardly next to me, like we were on a first date or something.
"I was offered another promotion," Eric began, looking at his hands instead of at me. This was all very weird. "But I turned it down. I am growing tired of the politics."
"Yeah," I said. "Me too."
"I was in my office the other night, cleaning up," Eric started again, this time even more nervously than before. The last time I'd been there, I'd been with Victor, but I didn't want to think about that.
"Uh huh," I said, waiting for him to continue.
"I found this on the floor," he said, clearly confused. He pulled a black velvet box out of his jacket pocket and held it in his hands, turning it over and over. "I don't know how it got there, but I bought it to give to you."
He turned to me and handed me the box, not in a casual way but not really in a meaningful way either. Why was this all so weird, this exchange between us? Was it just because we hadn't seen each other in so long? I looked down at the box and remembered it instantly. I'd found it in Eric's drawer.
"I used it as a projectile," I laughed softly. "You really need to have more weapons in your office."
"Oh, hm," he cracked a smile. "Perhaps I should have gotten something in silver."
I opened the box. On a piece of velvet, there sat a beautiful gold chain with a heart pendant. It was a simple necklace, but I didn't doubt that it had been very expensive. I took it out of the box and turned around so that Eric could fasten it around my neck.
"Eric," I murmured, touched.
"I failed you, my lover," he sighed, looking back down at his hands. "I'm sorry. That isn't why I came. I do not wish to upset you. I only want you to know."
"You didn't though," I said, putting a hand over his. He lifted his eyes to look at me, and his blue eyes were brimmed with bright red blood tears. "You saved me. I don't want to think about what would have happened if you hadn't been there."
"Nor do I," he whispered. He stood then, and took me by the hand to bring me to my feet.
We stood there awkwardly, just looking at each other. I wanted to kiss him, but there was this weird little fear in the back of my head. It was just wheedling away. Screw it, I thought. He seemed to think the same thing, and we went in for the kiss together. Despite his cold lips, his pale skin, the kiss was as warm as I could have ever wished. He took my hands and pulled me close, folding me against his chest.
"Do you want to come in?" I smiled at him.
"Hm," he grinned, that same devilish grin. "If you will bend my arm."
"Twist your arm, Eric," I giggled. "And I am."
The End.
