CHAPTER SIX HUNDRED and SEVENTY-TWO
Tuesday evening — 9:35 p.m.
“You missed dinner,” Heather said, when Blane came down the stairs to the main kitchen area.
Blane puffed his cheeks out in a breath and shook his head. He didn’t move to take off his mask. Instead, he opened the sliding door and went back to sit at the table.
“I feel contagious,” Blane said.
“Immortal,” Heather said pointing to herself.
Blane gave a tired nod.
“It was my winning point in the ‘Who will wait up for him?’ battle between Nelson and I,” Heather said.
Blane looked up. After a long moment, he laughed.
“Really?” Blane asked.
“No,” Heather said. “Nelson is sequestered with his father and a bunch of ‘the Greeks’ as Nash calls them. They are talking about the prophecy and the Templar hoard. If you head up there, you might ‘get’ to meet a gorgon.”
“I feel really thick,” Blane looked up at her, “but what’s a gorgon?”
“Good question,” Heather said. “Let’s get you some food.”
“Did you . . .?” Blane asked.
“Jeraine,” Heather said. “It was Charlie’s two year sobriety party tonight. Jeraine made a real feast. Sandy made a cake. Jacob set up a projector so that when Sissy called everyone could see her. It was really nice.”
“Wow, two years,” Blane said. “That’s huge.”
“Charlie asked after you,” Heather said. “He feels like you are an integral part in his recovery. Especially the early days. He told everyone about a time that you strapped him to the table to keep him there.”
“I’ll never admit to it,” Blane said with a grin.
Nodding, Heather smiled at him.
“You have the best way to make me feel better,” Blane said. “I . . .”
“I’m grateful,” Blane said, after a few minutes.
“How many years have you been sober?” Heather asked.
“Uh,” Blane looked off into the near distance.
“Very funny,” Heather said. “I know that you know by the hour.”
Blane laughed. Heather went into their new kitchen to put together his dinner.
“Fourteen years, twenty-four days, and . . .” Blane looked at his watch. “Twelve hours. That’s completely clean. I started trying to get clean a couple years earlier.”
“Do you still want to use?” Heather asked.
“Sometimes,” Blane said. “Actually, a lot of that faded when we had Mack.”
“He’s an amazing child,” Heather said.
“I think that it’s you,” Blane said. “One thing about drugs and alcohol is that they love you and are with you, no matter where you are or what you’re doing or what time it is. Drugs were my best-friend in the middle of the night and eased any embarrassment or anxiety mid-day. That’s faded since I’ve known you. Especially since you’ve been a goddess.”
Watching her warm up his food, Blane was quiet for a long minute.
“I can’t believe you’re up trying to help me,” Blane said. “You were up early with the boys. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m tired,” Heather said. “I love spending time with you. It’s a real treat for me.”
“We have a lot less time together than we used to,” Blane said, nodding.
“We have two kids and all of this,” Heather said.
“Not to mention all of the drama of a quest and Olympia and my work and a pandemic,” Blane said.
He dramatically fell forward until his forehead rested on the table.
“I don’t know if I’m going to survive this pandemic,” Blane said into the table.
“It’s a lot to deal with,” Heather said. “So many people are relying on you.”
Denver Cereal continues tomorrow...
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