True Blood
Burning House Of Love

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | 2 USERS: B+
YOU GRADE IT
Show Me How You Do That Trick

You give me this power and say you win? I'll show you authority. "I hired you after you got fired from every place!" And back to the sweet boy he is, 27 days out of the month: "Now you throw being your boss in my face? Don't treat me like I'm some kind of asshole!" We all just want to be seen. We all want to matter. We retreat to a place she can be honest: "Did you honestly think I'd sleep with you if I thought that?" She can say that without risking anything, because it's nice at the same time it's true, and the same time it's a reiteration of our territory: I wouldn't fuck you if you didn't matter, but I did, so don't tell me it didn't matter but especially don't tell me I don't matter when you say it, because you do, which means I do. It wasn't just sex. No ritual is empty.

"I have no idea what the fuck you think, Tara. But I'll tell you what I think: I think you better give me one good reason not to throw you out of right now." Barking at the lawn, at the postman: either you belong here or you motherfucking don't. Tell me now. She hears him, she hears it: this is real. This is one part where we're real. Your home, your life, and I invade like a demon, push you this way and that, like you're not a person. Like you don't have sovereignty over the united states of Sam, whatever they may be. "I'm no good at this..." she says. It's like bleeding for him. There are so many kinds of virginity. For something that's both biologically self-evident and culturally, hatefully constructed, we know it when we see it: "Try harder," he begs. And she does. Heart straining against body, heart speeding up, mind controlling that sovereign state, she speaks past the demon, past fear and history and standing firmly in her space: "...Sam. I'm sorry. I don't know how to be with somebody. I never..."

He looks at her, almost loves her. "Maybe I'm unboyfriendable," she says. Clever line, clever way to slice right through the shit. She's naming the demon. Once you name it the war can begin. He nods, almost guilty. "Naw, I'm just in a shitty mood." She doesn't move, except her eyes, and you have to listen: "Because of me? I don't want that." The sweetest thing she ever said: I don't want your pain to be coming from here; I want to be what we are. I want to be home, even for a moment: just like Heaven, for just a moment.

"No, it's not you. It's just... This trailer's falling down around me!" Happens; happening right before your eyes, if you knew her tells. "Well, at least you're not living with your mother." She opens the door to the demon: "Hey, do your folks ever ask you for money for some stupid ass shit they dreamed up that you think is crazy?" He reiterates that his family's not close, and slides back under the table. "You need a Robertson screwdriver," she says, peeking. A house is never simple; even a motel room is home, for a moment. "How would you know something like that?" he laughs, as though there are things Tara Thornton can't do. Have you learned nothing? "No daddy and a drunk mom? All the fixing fell to me." She looks around at the place as though it's real, for the first time: as though it's home. Home for somebody, home for a man with a heart; not some kind of asshole. They want to lay claim to that territory and neither of them can say okay. He grins. "Place would look good with a... With a little work..." For a moment, in the sun, he could love her. She meets his eyes, in a house that could be home for them, for just a moment. Sometimes it's just a moment: does that make it any less real? She's all about territory, in a way Sookie's only learning: get her hands on it, touch it, make it work, make it beautiful, burn off what doesn't work. Something they can share. There's a reason they call it making love. They lock eyes, and the phone rings. The demon. "Hello? Speaking, who is this?" Sam can smell fear: "What?"

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True Blood

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