Sativa.

30. Thirst

Present Day

Following Blaine's brain tumor diagnosis, Travis was her rock. Some mornings he surprised her with breakfast in bed. Sometimes he had to coax her out of the house if she felt compelled to isolate herself from the world.

Eventually, stomaching her medication became a routine and she hardly gives the pills a second thought anymore.

It became natural for her to help Travis when he went through his physical therapy. He too would go out of his way to make her episodes as easy to endure as possible. Whenever her body would deny her, faltering to a point of seizing forgetfulness, he'd been there to aide her back to her own mind.

Perhaps that's why Blaine clings to him so desperately now. Her memory is riddled with sinkholes. With his reminders waiting at the bottom she hasn't slipped into an abyss that would otherwise devour.

This past month was the most trying of their whole relationship but, the year prior to that, they'd built something from their own separate heaps of crushing rubble.

Maybe that's why people need to be broken. So, when the right time comes around, there are enough materials to learn and construct from.

Although she's far from forgiveness, Blaine figures a peace offering is overdue after she'd secluded herself in the shed for two months. She's not a quitter. The roots of their relationship were sharing dinner. It's the best she can commit to. Operating on autopilot, Blaine wanders in the house hamburger sizzling on the grill while she dices an onion.

It's a bad day.

While staying with Tina, she'd forgotten to take her pills and she's paying for it now. Her hands go lax at the most inopportune times. Causing her to nick her fingers with the knife. Sucking the blood from a stinging cut she soaks her hands under the faucet. Over the running water she doesn't hear the front door open.

"Something smells good."

Startled by his voice, she jerks her head up and jumps. Travis kicks his shoes off at the threshold before joining her in the kitchen.

Drying her hands on a towel Blaine says, "I decided to make dinner."

"Why?"

"Because I'm hungry."

"You know what I mean."

She does. An indescribable intensity hardens his gaze and suspicion in the furrowing of his brow prompts an explanation. "Because. I want to live here with you. Not in spite of you."

"I want the same."

These small moments prove to her how much she's missed him. Yearning tugs hotly, like a razor-thin thread shredding from the inside out, and she realizes how difficult it's going to be to start things slow.

"What can I do to help?"

"Finish dicing onions," she instructs.

They work in the same space and she grows acutely aware of how small the kitchen is. She adds the beans to the hamburger absently stirring the mixture with a spatula. Directly beside, Travis chops at the onion on the counter. Their arms bump into one another's at the slightest movement; his skin flush with her skin.

The tension between them is stifling so Blaine stutters. "How've you been? I mean... with what you told me earlier."

There's a slight break between his cutting, hinting at how uncomfortable he is at the question, but otherwise his composure is unfaltering. "Still clean."

"How long?"

Already this conversation is straying where she doesn't want but Blaine is determined that, if they're going to make their relationship work, they have to start being honest with each other. Regardless of how difficult it may be.