"Everybody knows that you can't love other people until you love yourself, but nobody ever tells you that the opposite is also true: You can't really love yourself until you love everybody else, because they're just the pieces of yourself that you said no to."
Jessica searches, worriedly, for the only family she's interested in protecting; she heads out into the night, disappointed. Sookie and Alcide confirm their status, as Arlene calls everyone together -- "Come, all my children! Eat!" -- and agree to stay no more than an hour, before they go. They have each other, they don't need to be a part of this. They're here for the community, not for the lifeboat.
Willa: "Anything good?"
Tara: "I used to hate vegetarians, but now watching these pigs dig into their barbecue it makes me wanna..."
Lettie Mae interrupts their giggling, trying as hard as she can to be polite, to make a good impression on her daughter's newfound sister, and eventually she gets Willa to make Tara talk to her. Eventually Tara relents, as she always will, and takes her mom to a barn or garage nearby.
Tara: "What the fuck you want?"
Lettie Mae: "To apologize for the way I handled things. Everything. I'm talking about your ... whole life. I am so terribly sorry."
Tara: "I am for the first time in my life speechless. What is your game?"
"When your father left... I loved him with everything I had in me, and I hurt for myself. So much so I forgot to hurt for you. There were even times when I forgot to... I forgot to feed you, Tara. For days at a time, I would forget."
Tara says she made do, and in a way she did. But that hole is a lot bigger than she even knows. Maryann knew, Franklin knew. Pam knows, I think. Lafayette knows, but he thinks it's just part of her now, like himself with Mama Reynolds. But of all of them, Lettie Mae's made the long walk back. She remained stuck in her selfish little bubble, perhaps, and she faltered and stumbled, but we've watched it happen. Every painful step. Every time we thought, that marriage won't last, that promise is a lie, this woman is a time bomb. That she, like Tara, was doomed to be synonymous with her weakness.
"It was my job to feed you," Lettie Mae says, slipping off her sweater to reveal a neck-baring chemise, "And I didn't do it. I thought I never could forgive myself." Tara's eyes go wide, and she steps back, fascinated and horrified. But Lettie Mae's repentance is overwhelming as a flood. The only thing worse than your mother being a monster is your mother being a person.