She barely stirs as her husband kisses her hair, and whispers goodbye in her ear. Hours later her body finally regains consciousness. As she leans against the headboard she focuses on her breath, and tries to make reorient herself to the world. Eventually she manages to shower, and apply fresh clothes. She sits in the bed with wet hair, clad in a black t-shirt, and black leggings. She's about to open her drawer when the bedroom door opens. Her husband materializes. She furrows her brow in confusion.
"What are you doing home?"
"It is this newfangled thing they call personal time off."
She shakes her head, "Why did you take the day off?"
He takes a seat next to her on the bed, and offers a warm smile. "I'm really worried about you. I can't seem to make heads or tails out of any of this. We had the time of our lives while we were gone. The second we stepped back inside here it was like a dark cloud descended upon you. Abigail is worried you're depressed, Martha is convinced you have a fatal disease. I am terrified that I have done something to push you into withdrawing from everything, and everyone. So I took the day off just to be here. I don't even know if that is the right thing to do. I just know that you're my wife, and I love you."
She offers a weak smile, "I'm not depressed. I do not have a fatal disease, at least not to my knowledge. You've not done anything to push me away. I have just been feeling really terrible."
"George said he made you go to the doctor yesterday."
"I think he was afraid that if he didn't one of you would be peeling me off the floor."
"Was that a valid thought?"
Cassie nods, "I think so."
He silently scrutinizes her as they sit knee to knee. Her dark clothing highlights the pallor in her cheeks, and the heavy fish belly color beneath her eyes.
"Orthostatic hypotension?"
"Yes. That was confirmed. I have been given strict instructions to dangle my feet over the side of the bed before I even consider putting them on the floor."
"Was there any indication what is causing the orthostatic hypotension?"
"Yes."
"A fluid/electrolyte imbalance?"
She nods, "Among other things."
He furrows his brow, "What kind of things?"
"Terrifying unforgiving things," she confirms.
"An amoeba?" He jokes.
She offers a weak smile, "Yes. I picked up an amoeba on our travels."
"It's eating your brain isn't it?" He smiles in response.
"That is what it feels like."
"In all seriousness, Cassie, did they figure something out?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to share?"
"I have not yet decided."
He furrows his brow, "What do you mean?"
"I just need some time to come to term with this on my own."
"I'm your husband," he reminds.
"And today I am just not mentally in a place to have this conversation with you."
"Are you dying?"
"I am most certainly not."
Approximately 1 month later-
Sam steps into the kitchen at 3:08 AM, and finds piles of muffins covering the island.
"George?"
Cassie materializes seemingly out of nowhere, "Do those smell like George's muffins?"
"No. Only his bran muffins are fit to eat. What are you doing down here?"
She furrows her brow, "What do you mean?"
"It's three o'clock in the morning."
"I'm baking."
"We don't have any guests this weekend."
"I am channeling my nervous energy."
"Energy? What energy? I've barely seen you outside of our bedroom in like two months."
"I am fully aware."
Sam tilts his head, "Nervous energy about what?"
She gently leads him to a barstool by his elbow. He reluctantly parks himself.
"Cassie you're making me nervous."
"Try a muffin," she suggests as she silently massages her ring finger obsessively.
"I feel as if I'm about to get the 'it's not you, it's me' speech."
"I know that I have always espoused honesty, and openness in our marriage."
"But?"
"I just couldn't be open, and honest with you until things felt safe. I am so sorry for not telling you sooner. I just… I couldn't bring myself to."
"Tell me what?"
"The truth."
"The truth is a very broad category, which you have yet to place anything."
"I am working up to it."
"Working up to it? Are you afraid of judgement? I saw you vomit on a flight attendant on the way home. I think that we're past that."
"It was just the one time," she reminds him.
"I know. I was there on the flight for the next eight hours with a very sour flight attendant."
"It was a miserable flight."
"What has this got to do with honesty, and openness? Obviously you have been keeping something from me. Abigail mentioned that she felt out of sync with you. I'm just wondering if there is something to that."
"Are you asking me if I am blocking the connection to the people I care about?"
"Yes."
"Not initially."
"What do you mean?"
"I have been avoiding people for a few weeks."
"Why? You love people."
"Because I am not ready to have this conversation with everyone. It has taken me weeks to feel remotely safe enough to have the conversation with you."
"Again, this feels like a relationship ending conversation," Sam points out.
"Nothing could be farther from the truth."
