"I love what I do, this is the best job I've ever had", I scoff at the blonde girl on the T.V. with the enormously large head and unbearable fake Australian accent. I am babysitting for Arlene and being forced to watch a marathon of Mako Mermaids on Netflix while Lisa paints my toenails. I mean hello reality's calling, no one aspires to be a waitress. I say that, as I sit here at 25 years old looking at my own waitressing uniform. Don't get me wrong it isn't the worst job in the world to have. I mean on a good week I might actually make enough in tips to go the Walmart in Clarice to get a couple of sun dresses. But I could never say with a straight face that I love what I do. But I do what I can to help out my Gran and in this small town with my disability there's not much else to do for an honest pay.

My Gran is the strongest woman I know, she made due with so little to raise me and my brother. She was always supportive in any and every way. It's not every day that a person inherits two young children and doesn't blink an eye when asked to sacrifice their own life to help care for them. So when my Gran had a stroke 3 years ago I didn't hesitate to leave school and come back home to care for her. Sure she put up a real fuss, and made me promise that when she feels better that I would go back. But sadly Gran was never the same and there was no way that I could leave her, no matter how much she insisted. My Gran is my hero she helped me understand at an early age that I was different and that didn't mean a bad thing. She taught me to focus my energy on something that I loved and to use that to block out all the madness that surrounded me. For a long time I couldn't figure out what I was good at, other than making people uncomfortable and dislike me. My brother was so popular that he avoided me at every chance. Even my parents, though they are dead now, I know they hated me, because I wasn't like the other little girls. Even though my Gran always tells me that my parent's death was an accident and the will of God. I know it was my fault, they were on that bridge that night because they were trying to get away from me. My mom just wanted to get away for a while, from the crazy daughter that the whole town talks about. If I was an ordinary little girl my parents would still be alive. Being haunted by that guilt and looked upon harshly by those who are supposed to care, is a lot for a child to carry on her shoulders.

The only time that I can remember being free of any cares, was when I was out in the tall grass behind my Grans house dancing among the wild flowers and the bugs. So dancing became my outlet, when I danced I could escape the world around me and because I was always so focused on what I was doing. I was able to block out the voices. Bon Temps didn't have dance studios or ballet schools, the closest thing to dance in our little town was cheerleading. So I tried out, all four years, and even though I was the best dancer I was never picked for the team until my senior year in high school. That was when the team dwindled down to only a few members. Half of the squad was out with mono and a couple of girls went to live with their aunts in other states. Well you know what that's code for, they traded in their pom poms for pacifiers. I guess they were desperate allowing me to join the squad. Cheerleading was harder than I thought trying to keep out hundreds of fan's thoughts was excruciating. But I made it through, we even qualified for the state cheerleading competition. It was the first year since any team or squad in the school had made it to a championship since Jason got hurt his senior year. As luck would have it, there were several scouts at the competition with my grades and talent I received a scholarship to Tulane University of Louisiana. If I thought Jason was awful to me before, he became totally insufferable after I received my scholarship. But Gran ever supportive as she always is gave me the encouragement that I needed to step out into the unknown.

College was different, better in a lot of ways and worst in others. School was always hard for me to concentrate with all those minds open to me. College wasn't any better, minds were open to me on a grander scale, and it took a lot for me to manage. I quickly became an outcast, in a place that I could've easily reinvented myself, because nobody knew me and most hadn't ever heard of a town called Bon Temps. But I remained sheltered from my peers because of their thoughts and spent most of my free time in the dance hall, perfecting my dance technique as well as my mental shields. Halfway through the third semester of my second year is when I received a call from, Maxine Fortenberry one of Grans dearest friends and the town gossip. She started off by telling me that Sheriff Bud Dearborn had to go way out to Hot Shot to drag Jason out of some girl's bed into town. As I was about to ask if she really called just to tell me that, she announced that Gran has had a stroke, "but she doesn't want you to worry or come home because she knows you have finals". I was on my way to Bon Temps before Maxine finished the sentence, to start on a new topic.

I have been back home ever since, when it was obvious Gran was not going to get back to where she once was, I took a job at the local bar and grill. Sam was really gracious about giving me a chance with no waitressing experience. I can't help but feel that he gave me the chance based on what he thought would happen between us. But I don't look at Sam that way and never will. Sadly waitressing is not what I aspired to do but it pays the bills, well mostly. Arlene came home just as Lisa was dosing off and the fourth season of Mako Mermaids was about to start. I was happy to take my leave, on the way home I thought about the conversation I heard yesterday with Gran and the tax collector. Our house has been in the Stackhouse family for generations and the land has been paid for a hundred times over. But the taxes are eating us alive, with Grans medical bills to mount. We are falling in a deeper hole, I can't just sit around and let my Gran lose everything that my grandfather and his ancestors worked so hard for. Gran use to able to add a little more income into the house by selling bake goods and hand crafted items, like blankets, quilts, scarfs and sweaters. She still does those things, but not at the quantity in which she used to. One of my co-workers Dawn was talking about a place that she works on occasion in Shreveport and how big the tips are. I just might have to look into getting a second job.