Tara shoves the money against Sam's chest, and he ushers her into the office to ctually discuss it. "You can't tell me I'm keeping it!" she shouts, and throws it down on the desk; they agree that they are a pair of stubborn sons of bitches. "You ... really believe you have a demon in you?" Tara begins to cry, looking down. Is it really a demon? Does it matter? How many times, do you think, has she tried the mirror trick since we saw her last? What do you think happened? "I think I got something inside me that is... scared. And pissed off, and mean..." He nods, and they say it together: "And fucked up." She's got something in her, like a beast or an animal, that makes funny sounds in bed, and gets scared in a way that doesn't brook words, and angry in a way that makes no time for thinking, and gets mean when it's hungry, or when it gets denied. Most of all, I mean to say, the thing inside Tara gets howling rabid mad, chainlink barking mad, postman-biting mad when its territory is threatened. And that's like all of us too, but more like Sam than most.
"Look, two years ago nobody even knew there was such a thing as vampires. Now we gotta deal with them every goddamn day. And who knows what else is out there?" And could you handle it? Could you love it, if there were? If somebody told you a magical world, full of creatures of legend, full of sex and darkness and power and light, existed just outside the margins of what we're all trying desperately to make into the semblance of a real life, an adult life, what would you do with that information? He doesn't know about Sookie kissing Bill, or what it looked like, the sun and the moon together in the sky, and how Tara understood in that moment. He thinks he's advocating for the existence of demons, and secretly he's advocating for the existence of love in a world of shapeshifters and monsters and so much fear, so many ways to get hurt. And the real secret is, she's already there. She's showing him her demon, the thing inside her, first. This is the exorcism. Here, now.
"Eight hundred bucks? That's... That's a lot of money, Sam," she says, ashamed by the amount. "Yeah, well? People in this town drink a lot. I'm doing okay." Tara finally looks at him, the walls breaking down into stones, and then to tears, and he kisses her before she can thank him. This is the exorcism.
"Interesting night," Lafayette says, and Sookie, full of fear and grief, hisses that it's all too interesting. "Shit, ain't no such a thing as too interesting, only too dull." And as she stomps off: "So John, how big is your dick?" Heh. And that's when she sees them, kissing: Sam, her dog in shining armor, kissing Tara, her best and only friend. The boy who will always love her and catch her when she falls, because he's loyal as a beast; the girl who says the things she can't say, and loves her more than anything. The two people in the world who let her into their minds, and souls, without question. And this is the first secret. Think about that for a second: not just these two, not just her best friend secretly seeing her boss, her friend, the boy she keeps on the line, the boy she still seethes at for never getting in line until it was too late, when Bill Compton came to Bon Temps. None of that matters as much as this: it's the very first lie anyone ever told Sookie Stackhouse.