"I'm sorry, you have a demon inside you? Oh fuck me, that's too good." Momma breaks down, being honest: "You have no idea on what I'm going through wrestling with this demon. I try and do right, I try so hard... but it breaks me down, and poisons everything." Sounds like Tara. "I want to be the momma you deserve. I can make up for everything, I can. It's not too late." Everything you ever wanted to hear; like Sookie's mother and her grandmother, coming back from the head. It was all a mistake, an unfortunate coincidence. I never meant to hurt you. "I can't do this alone. I gotta get it out of me. And it's very expensive..." Tara almost vomits. "And that's why you came to this women's funeral? Because you want money?" Momma says she has nowhere else to go, but Tara's done. She stalks away, and Momma's screaming: "Tara, please. Don't walk away from me, I'm still your momma. I need you." They are orphans; we are all orphans: "You're all I've got!"
Sookie walks randomly through the graveyard, finds the old section. The Glorious Dead. The grave is half-covered, in leaves of ivy. She kneels and stares down at it, wiping them away: William Thomas Compton. She jumps back. He is dead.
Jason shivers as they pay their respects; they speak but he can't hear them as he jerks and shakes. If you can put a name on it, if you can name it and the way it feels, if you can name the demon then you can feed that demon. A whole life spent wondering what that aching pain was, and here it is; a whole life spent wondering what was missing, and it was there all along. Loneliness, that no body can shake, and fear, that no amount of love can erase. Andy threatens him as he goes, but Jason's too far gone to care. In his truck he yanks and pulls at his necktie, exposing his throat, sweating through his shirt, crazy and breathing hard. One last bit, one drop in the glovebox, in a clean little baggie. Give it a name. The opposite of death is life. Feel it driving through you, let it take the wheel for just a moment. The second drugs stop being acceptable is when you can't do without them, yes, but this isn't drugs. It's just a Valium. He cranes his neck, opens his mouth wide, wanting it more than anything.
But the V is life and life, today, is all too much. There is only one person that could possibly offer him comfort. He punched her in the mouth, and then committed a crime he still doesn't understand. He has joined the orphans and been deserted by his sister. What if he feels it more? What if this drop enters his heart, and it begins to beat, and the blood that flows through him pulses with sadness? He tosses it out the window: be a man, be strong. Somebody has to be strong. We can't all go running off in the middle of a funeral, dancing across a graveyard, bitching about uncles and this and that. Somebody's got to feel this. Somebody has to miss her.