Sativa.

28. The Standstill

Blaine copes horribly once her life slips into a loop. She doesn't even repeat the same song twice in a row. Travis admirably makes their coexistence as normal as possible but the mundane niceties are more frustrating then comforting.

Moving in with him was a leap Blaine severely misjudged the distance of. She's been falling ever since -- in more ways then one -- and she wonders when she'll reach bottom... and whether Travis will be there to cushion the blow or if she'll wind up mangled by an endless decent.

Due to the lack of planning, most of her boxes are stored haphazardly in the shed behind the house. Travis spent hours connecting speakers to ancient power outlets so he could play music whenever he works outside. It isn't a bad setup so she's living there instead of at the trailer.

The whole situation feels like a massive overreaction but she's bull-headed. Consequently, she's slept on an air mattress in the shed for two nights. What keeps her there is the small part that wonders if he'll care enough to make an effort. He's under-reacted to her overreaction driving her insane.

There's only so much overtime Blaine can pick up at the deli. It's a Saturday and, without work to distract her, she's restless. After a year of ignoring them she starts peeling the tape shutting the cardboard boxes. Through aimless sorting she finds a picture album -- the only one she owns.

On the front page is her and her siblings posed in front of a massive Welcome to New Mexico sign at the side of the road. The three of them wear colorful sombreros that dominate the image. Clark has his arm slung across Blaine's shoulders, she's mid-laugh, and Tina stands on the other side with her tongue sticking out flashing a peace sign.

It's a fond memory despite the rocky beginning. After Dad left Mom packed Blaine (only thirteen at the time) and her siblings in the mini van. They'd made it to the state line before Mom decided to take them back home. At the end of the day, after a carnage of yelling, her parents had loved each other in their own twisted way. Neither could leave the other for long.

Somehow, even after tireless efforts not to, Blaine ended up as sick as Clark and in a relationship as complex as her parents. She supposes that's the trick of life -- ending up exactly how you promised you wouldn't. Soundless tears drip onto the flimsy plastic covering the photo.

Blaine is broken from her reverie when the door to the shed inches open. Seeing Travis, she wipes furiously at her stinging eyes. It must be pathetic. Her stuck in this cramped space that reeks of mildew sitting on an air mattress with boxes spilling open all around her.

Shifting from one foot to the other, seeming nervous, Travis pauses. "We need to talk."

Folding the album shut, Blaine looks up at him still blinking away tears. "You just now figured that out?"

The response renews his confidence and he sits down beside her. "I was wondering why you didn't try to stay." His knee bumps against hers, unintentional but meaningful. "But I didn't try either."

"Yeah, for loving me you sure have a shit way of showing it."

"I shouldn't have let you leave." Although healed considerably the scars draw her attention when he starts to twist his hands anxiously. "It was selfish."

All this waiting and she didn't know what she wanted to hear until she actually heard it. That was it.

"I thought you'd stop me." Blaine admits.

"I was high." The sheer rawness of his voice cripples her. "I wasn't thinking."

His confession is so open she knows he means more than weed. Forcing herself to breathe, Blaine speaks thickly through the tightness in her throat. "Are you high now?"