Fucking Sookie was a little bit, in a tiny way, a bit of a joke. There was a place in his mind where he went, when she was lost to the abyss and finally in love with herself, so that he wouldn't completely ravish her and break her body. And if he can break up with her like this, on the phone, from the bed of his old and new lover -- whom Sookie knows to be an asshole -- then that place was even larger than the place that he loved her. Which means every time they fucked, he was making a fool of her. Which isn't as bad as the fact that every time they fucked, she was making a fool of herself.
Well done, Bill. It's barely even a hint on the radar during all this, that Lorena leans into the phone with a friendly, purring "Ça va, Sookie?" Sookie barely registers that, just stays with the filibuster, calling his name again and again. "Look at your life since I entered it: I've only caused you pain. I am death."
(I am Death. Never forget that. This is a story of Gods fucking men, and why it's not really ever okay. Part of her love for him and part of the story of first love is the fact that he swims in depths she can't even see and fathoms she can't sound; he's a black shape in the blackness, like all vampires. Nothing Bill says is ever a lie; he wouldn't allow it.)
"I will bring you only suffering. Our worlds are too different. Our natures too. We were doomed from the start." Of course she doesn't believe him, or any of this nonsense, because it's no more or less true than it was the day they met, and since then he's comforted her against it a thousand times: She's special. The rules don't apply to her, or to him: They are the one true thing. They break the rules and rewrite them, their love is so powerful. Every fear and nightmare, every part of Eric that nobody can touch and the real reason she can't trust him, coming true: "Believe what you want. You are no longer of concern to me. Do not try to find me. I do not wish to be found." And then just a dial tone.
Left alone with Alcide, numb and nearly barfing, Sookie wonders to herself what on earth that phone call was about. "I'm pretty sure it means he doesn't wanna see you anymore," Alcide helpfully suggests, and she's like, "Nothing of the sort! Clearly strange things are afoot at the Circle K. We gotta get twice as weird and twice as pissed and hurl ourselves twice as hard into twice as much danger! Hand me a knife! Or a cudgel! We're doing this shit bra-less!"
Because this is the last fucking thing Alcide needs to hear -- in fact, what we can't quite see yet is that letting go of Debbie is harder even than letting go of Bill, even after a month -- he sets about setting her straight, in a way that would drive her bats with anger if she could actually hear this on an emotional level and not as some logical puzzlement that she can filibuster her way out from under: "Maybe the man you love never existed except in your head? No matter how well you think you know somebody, they can still turn around and kick you right in the nut sack."
As though it is a logical defense, Sookie jerks: "I don't have a nut sack!" (Simply untrue.) She goes on, into sobs: "He's risked everything for me! Our love is way bigger than him breaking up with me over the phone!" Like constructing a logical proof is going to make that phone call never happen; like she's never been broken up with. "How many relationships you been in?" asks Alcide, recognizing this panic and logical irrationality as the tiny fish-thoughts that swim around but don't come out of your mouth unless you are very, very naïve.
(Listen, don't fix. Boys somehow do not come with this thing from the factory, and you have to teach them it. Just without being a bitch about it.)
He takes her in his arms, finally, realizing that all the ugly-crying and pretty horrible sadness faces aren't going anywhere: That no matter how much he tries to use Sookie to talk himself out of his own heartbreak (one more thing they have in common, that inability to talk to anybody when you're not really or also talking to yourself), and she's shocked at his warmth. Warmer than a live body, much warmer than a dead one: "It's okay, I'm just not used to it." Weres run hot, he says -- which: word up -- and she flips into caretaker mode: "I thought maybe you were coming down with the flu..."
Alcide tries to give her privacy, but as her first Were she finds something comforting in the low-level snarl of his thoughts, and the last thing she wants is to be alone. Jason might help here, probably not, but Tara would hold her and give voice to all the anger she's not allowed to feel yet, and talk her down. Instead: Silent, sexy Alcide, who feels weird about staying with her and weirder about leaving, so he cuts the diff and just puts on a shirt before settling down for the night.
Bird-Tommy's practically laughing as he takes off into the sky, Sam following after with his pistol. Sam sniffs out the Mickens trailer and goes looking for them. Melinda, as usual, is conciliatory and weakness personified and completely innocent: "We hadn't left yet because, uh, well, we got nowhere to go. We're a little behind in rent? Plus, our landlord got foreclosed on..." Sam realizes why they came, to eat his food and steal from him, and Melinda acts all surprised and mad about Tommy's attempt to steal from Merlotte's: "Sometimes I think that boy's cheese done slid right off his cracker. He does desperate things when we fall on hard times."
"When you fall...? How often does this happen?" Sam isn't about to listen to any more of her bullshit, and she begs him not to take it out on Tommy, and then old Grimy-Whities comes out and yells about how Tommy makes his ass itch, and Melinda assures Sam they'll leave the second Tommy returns: "He's just off somewhere beating himself up. Won't be long." Instead of calling the cops or shooting them both and giving them to Eric for a snack, Sam just kicks up dirt and wanders away feeling like a grumpy little boy.
Fuck that. First of all, you don't owe your real family anything, much less your birth family, any more than you owe your SO something on Valentine's Day. We enter into these relationships because we want to be in them, and obligation breeds resentment. And second of all, these people are gross. Way too gross to be anywhere near you unless you have a compelling reason otherwise. I guarantee every nasty carny and drug dealer in the world has a sad story, if you stop to listen to it, but that doesn't stop them from being what they are. Trouble is, Sam keeps listening. And even if he loves Tommy more than their parents, for pretty obvious reasons, that still doesn't mean you do anything but keep walking. Letting people in that haven't earned it is the number one way you end up with sad drama and nothing to show for it.
Franklin grills the glamoured Tara for info on Bill and Sookie, because what Franklin and Tara are about is Bill and Sookie (with a heaping helping of Maryann thrown in there, as we'll see). As much of a bummer as this episode is re: Tara, it's also an act-break, which means this is the last time we'll ever have to look at whatever it is we're looking at.
(Weird thing about this episode is how it went last episode/July 4/act break, which means we've spent almost four weeks thinking the same thing is happening over and over, when in fact this story is making huge jumps forward. Same deal as with Maryann last year, if you were paying attention, which is almost impossible to do on a weekly basis but especially hard to do when the weird episode and act-break fall on either side of a holiday. To this day people still believe the Junkie Willow storyline was six months long -- when really it was two short episodes long -- because of Christmas break that year. Even harder to do when you don't understand how TV seasons get broken down -- how if you're doing a storyline at the beginning of the season, you're going to be concluding that storyline in some form at the end of the season -- or if your p