Sookie

Chapter IV

Some days being a waitress wasn't all that bad. Holidays were great because people were in good spirits. It showed in their tips, their patience with service, and their friendly smiles. Other times waiting tables was exactly what it was cracked up to be, difficult and thankless. Those same patrons who had smiled and made small talk one day were mean as rattlesnakes the next.

I heard their snide remarks, both verbal and nonverbal. I swallowed it with a grain of salt. Society didn't prosecute people for what they thought but only for what they did. It wasn't their fault and in their defense they didn't know I was a telepath. Lucky for me I'd been doing this long enough not to take any of it personally. It just went with the territory.

Today wasn't a good or bad day, it was just an extremely long one. My feet hurt. I smelled like beer and mustard and I was pretty sure there was a peanut in my shoe. I didn't care, I was coming off my third double shift in as many days. I was so tired I felt like I could sleep with my eyes open.

I didn't make much but the little I did was enough to pay my bills. It wasn't enough to patch my pitted driveway. But with every double I worked I was inching one step closer to that goal. This year the family home I'd inherited would get the kitchen it deserved. The Stackhouse farmhouse began as nothing more than a two bedroom home a distant patriarch of the Stackhouse's had built.

Over time it had been added to and modernized. There was now an upstairs that was more or less finished. It might not be a fancy but it was home. More importantly the mortgage was paid. Thank goodness, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to make ends meet. Hell, I was barely able to get my ends to wave hello from the distance that separated them. I was grateful for what I had. It wasn't much but it was my piece of America; my little haven. There was nary a thought to hear while I was home. I didn't have to focus on not inadvertently hearing thoughts.

Something moved to the left of me just as I was dragging myself out of my car. I stilled and searched the night but heard nothing more. Despite living alone in the middle of nowhere with nothing but woodlands and a cemetery and a creepy abandoned house near me I wasn't scared. Crime was no concern. I lived the town of Bon Temps. It was a tiny town in northern Louisiana with a population so meager census was kept by changing the sign on the way into town when someone died or a baby was born. We all knew each other and that was how we kept count.

I focused on what my other hearing could provide but heard nothing more. Sighing, I made my way inside. I got ready for bed in record time and once my head touched the pillow I was dead to the world.

~oooooo~

"You sure you don't want to come along?" Tara asked. "We could do it together," she enthused. "It'll be fun and we'd come back with so many stories to tell."

I snorted. "I'm sure," I told her.

Tara Thornton is my best friend. I'd known her my whole life. She was one the few black girls in town and I was the odd girl out, so we connected. She understood I was different but wasn't exactly sure how. It didn't matter much to her. I supposed my being a telepath and her being black were the same thing—neither of us was really accepted in the small town in which we lived. It wasn't all our friendship was based on. She was witty and smart and a very sweet person.

Today the two of us were seated at Crawdad Diner having an early lunch. This was the last we would see each other for a while. This wasn't one of her road trips that satisfied her adventurous side. This was a commitment, something Tara was almost incapable of. Tomorrow she would leave the great town of Bon Temps for Jackson, Mississippi where she'd enrolled in an accelerated business program.

For the past few weeks she had been on a mission to get me to come along. It was due in part to her not wanting to go alone but she also thought it would be good for me. I was happy for her and very proud of her, I just didn't want to go with her. Even if I wanted to I couldn't, my bills wouldn't pay themselves.

Tara huffed and even if I wasn't a telepath I knew what was coming. It was written all over her face. "This is about Jason. You don't want to leave him because you think you'll come home to find him dead or in jail."

We'd had this conversation so many different times in so many different ways that I knew the shortcuts to get me to the end of it. She would begin an accusing statement much like she just did. Then she would tell me my relationship with him was textbook codependence. No, she wasn't qualified to play Doctor Phil though she knew a thing or two about dysfunctional families.

Tara insisted that I took care of him so I wouldn't have to have a life of my own. Jason in turn lived as wildly as he wanted because I had never let him face the consequences of his many, many mistakes. I was always there to pick up the pieces. Of course I vehemently disagreed. Okay, maybe there was some truth to it. For as long as I could remember I had been bailing my brother out of this or that jam. When we were kids it involved lying for him or taking the blame for things he'd done. After our parents died he became slightly worse. He just stopped trying or caring about anything besides the here and now. He was so devastated it forced me to be strong and that was how our relationship had turned into what it was now.

My grandmother had always had the strength I didn't where my big brother was concerned. She set her limits and if he crossed them she made him pay. She would scream he was a selfish manipulative good for nothing. When looked at him I always saw the person that helped me reach cookie jars and taught me to climb trees. He'd showed me how to throw a punch and swing a bat. He'd never let anyone get away with picking on me, not even his girlfriends. My fond childhood memories helped me defend the adult he'd grown into.

Now that he was my only living relative I tolerated my brother's many faults without a word. Jason needed me to know that I supported him no matter what but especially that I could separate the act from the person he was and I could love him anyway. There was good in him. It was deep, way down deep inside him, but it was there. This was typically the point when Tara would begin attacking my nonexistent sex life.

There wasn't anything I could do about that. I'd tried dating and even kissed a few boys. But that was far as I'd ever gotten. It didn't come from fear or anything like it. It was because touch made my telepathy louder. I could still block it out but it took such focus that I wasn't free to really enjoy the act.

In a way I wished Tara would just understand and let it alone. But I knew she couldn't because she was a good friend. With a sigh I cut to straight to end of this dialogue.

"I can't afford to," I told her. "And you're right; I never know when I might need to pick him up from the drunk tank."

She clucked her tongue but didn't say anything more on that note. By the end of lunch Tara had stopped trying to sell Jackson to me and I was glad of it. We talked about the room she had rented in an old house. One of her roommates was a guy that she swore looked like Johnny Depp. He was gay but she said she would try her hand anyway. All I could do was laugh. Roommates were another reason why I would not have been able to go. The conversation moved to all the great things she wanted to do once she got her certification. She had a dream of opening her own clothing shop, maybe even a whole slew of stores.

With a long embrace and a promise to talk as often as possible we parted ways at the restaurant. She would go home and pack for her long drive to begin another chapter of her life. I would be going to my brother's house to check on him before work because I haven't heard from him in a week.

I missed Jason at his house but from what I'd seen he hadn't been there in a while, maybe longer than a week. His mail had piled up and none of his windows were open as to allow for a cool breeze in the early Louisiana spring. I let myself inside because I was worried. It was one thing for my brother's house to be a mess, but he checked his mail.

"Wow!" I whispered in the empty home.

The house was spotless. Throw pillows had been bought for the old sofa and a vase of fresh flowers sat on the dining room table. The curtains were new and spruced up the bachelor pad. There wasn't a single pizza box or an empty bottle of beer to be seen on the floor or any surface. I had no idea what to make of it and I didn't have the time to try tonight, I scribbled a quick note and left.

Jason came by the two days later to wake me up nice and early on my day off. With him up so early it was either really good or really bad. Figuring it was bad I went to the door. A strange mind flittered into mine. It didn't unsettle me, more like it confused me. I stood in the doorway and exchanging greetings with my brother but my ability was fanned out as far as I could reach. The mind was fast retreating I realized. It followed the same path as my brother's truck.

"Who's got your truck?" I asked curiously.

He kissed the side of my head and entered the house. "Sienna," he said as he continued past the sitting room and into the kitchen.

My guess was he was looking for something to eat. I wasn't much interested in his appetite. There was something off about the unknown woman that was driving off with his car. I wasn't worried that she would steal it—which has happened before—I was worried that he had no idea who she was, which was a very common occurrence with my brother. Since she might not be human I paid it a bit more attention. Not only that, the mental signature was like nothing I'd come across before. I was genuinely curious.

"I don't know who that is," and neither do you I added to myself.

"You'll get to," he said pulling out all the things he needed to cook breakfast, not just the food but the pans too. That was odd to put it mildly. If that wasn't enough he took out my favorite mug and one for himself before firing up the coffeemaker. Whatever she was, she was getting him to behave. She had points with me already.

"I moved in with her," he announced brightly. I just watched him, not sure if I'd heard correctly. Unfortunately I had. "She's real smart like you." I was really going to act like I wasn't insulted by that.

All through breakfast I listened as my brother gushed about this woman. Of course she was built like Barbie's much hotter older sister. Women found my brother irresistible. They loved him, and if only for one night, he loved them. That was usually the beginning of his troubles but not the end. He was a pig and sometimes even he forgot it because he tried to play house, often. With that glitch in his thinking and his blindness for the opposite sex, forget it.

That would account for why he was so enthused about this latest one. Yet, I couldn't dismiss that there was an air of real happiness to him this time. It made me think it might be different with her. I hoped at least. It counted for something that she had gotten him clean up his house and buy throw pillows and new curtains. That was a first.

At the end of all his voluble talk, Jason tried to pin me down for a date to meet this new one. Deciding I wouldn't get around it and curious about what she was, I agreed for dinner in two weeks. If I knew my brother she either wouldn't last or I would read his doubts then. To my surprise, Jason didn't leave after he got what he had come over for.

I could never pass up an excuse to be outside as much as possible. I loved the chirp of the birds, the colors of the trees, and the bloom of the flowers. I loved it all, even the rain. It reminded me of new beginnings and a fresh start. It was even better today because as Jason and I worked we laughed and talked like we used to. When I decided to get to my chores he stayed with me and helped. It might have been him feeling gracious because I'd agreed to meet his flame. Either way I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. He changed the oil in my ancient car and did the yard work and even tossed a fresh coat of paint on my porch.

After lunch I had to run into town for errands. Jason caught a ride to Hoyt's house.

"She likes chocolate," he said before he got out of my car. "I was hoping you'd make that cake recipe you got from Mrs. Bellefleur when you come over."

I nodded and smiled. "Sure," I said.

He gave me a winning smile and ruffled my hair roughly until I shoved him. He walked away laughing. I'd always hated that and he knew it. Still as I drove away I watched him in my rear view mirror with a smile. Since he discovered women in high school we didn't spend much time together but today he reaffirmed that he was my big brother.

It was much later that afternoon when I went to collect my sheets that that nagging fuzzy thought entered my mind again. This time there was no truck. I frowned, rubbing my temples. I wondered if maybe my extra sensory perception was malfunctioning. I couldn't say for sure, it wasn't like anyone had ever done a study.

I began reading minds when I was five. Until then I'd been a normal little girl. Maybe now that I was getting older, I was losing the ability. After fanning out my mental net and getting more nothing I gave up and headed inside. Trying to focus on reading something that might not be there was making me feel like the crazy lady. Despite what some folks in Bon Temps thought, I wasn't.