“How are you doing with your list?” Harper asked as he walked into the cockpit where Beka was sitting with a flexi in front of her. Trance had given her a task, and even though she’d had a whole day to do it, it wasn’t going too well. On the flexi she had a number of foods that she had to put in categories. They were Safe Foods, that she wouldn’t mind eating too much, Scary Foods, which she wouldn’t even dream of eating, and a category in between for everything else. Trance had said they would have to add the Scary Foods in soon as well, but that they’d start with the middle category mixed with the Safe Foods. She sighed and handed him the flexi. On Scary Foods she’d put butter, sugar, cheese, meat among a lot of other things. Safe Foods was a very small list compiled of a few different kinds of fruit and vegetables. It very much looked like a game for children, but Harper was nevertheless relieved she’d bothered to finish it.
“It’s time to have dinner now,” he said as cheerfully as he could, trying to hide the lump in his throat.
“Why are you always here?” she asked, ignoring his statement. He shrugged.
“Why not?”
“It’s because you’ve all decided I can’t be trusted to be on my own, isn’t it?” she mumbled. He shook his head quickly, then groaned.
“Well, sort of. But it’s not really like that. I mean, it’s not like I can never leave you alone. Just…”
“Just what?”
“I don’t want to leave you alone! I mean, unless you really want me to. You can just tell me if you do.” He paused for a second, waiting for the inevitable. It never came. “You…don’t want me to?” She shrugged.
“I guess you might as well stay,” she said nonchalantly. He hoped it was just an act, and she wanted him to stay really. Also suspecting this was the case, it brought him into higher spirits.
“Anyway,” he said, realising he’d let her take him off the subject, “dinner. I was thinking we could have…” Actually, he hadn’t been thinking, and glanced at the list. So he should try not to include too much “Scary Foods” but not just let her have salad either. “Minestrone soup,” he decided. That would be good. It had a lot of veggies to it, but also beans, which would be good for her, and a bit of pasta.
“I didn’t know you liked soup,” she mumbled. She was probably right, he was more of a meat person. He shrugged.
“I don’t mind it.” Not wanting to let her get him off the subject off dinner again, he set off before she could say anything else.
“Wait!” she called. He turned back and sighed. She looked…almost shy?
“Do you mind…” she bit her lip, looking down on her hands, “the autochef does really bad soup,” she explained, “um, but…I could make it myself?” He raised an eyebrow. Beka, into cooking? Well, this was new. Still, getting involved with food was a good thing, wasn’t it?
“Yeah, all right,” he nodded, “I’ll just get the stuff for it then.”
****
“This is delicious!” Ok, so he was exaggerating, a little. Beka was no master chef, but it really wasn’t bad. She glanced at him with a small hint of a smile. “Go on, try some. It’s lovely.” She hesitantly lifted the spoon and took a small sip from it. He tried not to look at her expectantly, but act normal as she put the spoon in her mouth.
“Yeah,” she mumbled, “it’s nice.” He encouragingly slurped more from his own bowl, hoping his enthusiasm would somehow spur her to eat more. It seemed to work, for a little bit. She ate a few spoonfuls before pausing, seemingly going over what she’d just done. He decided it better to leave her for a bit, but he suspected the soup would soon go cold, giving her an excuse not to eat it.
“Did you like it?” She nodded absently.
“Mm-hm.”
“So…you going to finish it?” She gave him an annoyed glance.
“You know, it’s kind of awkward to eat when you’re watching me like a hawk.” The words were hostile, but the tone of her voice sounded almost frightened. He tried to swallow the hurt and nodded.
“Ok,” he said quietly, “I’ll just go in the other room and you can come in when you’re ready.” He stood up and left the room reluctantly. Slumping down in the pilot’s chair, he decided to watch her on a screen, making sure she didn’t pour it away or anything. She was sitting with an intense expression on her face, staring at the bowl in her hand. With a shaking hand she lifted the full spoon up and held it by her lips. She clenched her eyes shut and shoved it deep into the back of her mouth, then coughing as she forced herself to swallow. Tears fell into the bowl as her fierce concentration turned into desperation, lifting the spoon up and back down again, failing to win over her emotions. A loud crash caught Harper’s attention and he realised she’d thrown the bowl across the room. Rushing back in, he found her trembling on the bed. Not entirely sure whether this should be seen as failure or success, he rushed up to her and stroked her head gently.
“I can’t do it,” she managed to get out between sobs and hiccups. “Just let me die, Harper.” He stared at her horrified.
“No way,” he whispered, not believing what she’d just said. “No way am I letting you die. Beka, did you take those tablets Trance gave you?” She nodded.
“But she said they’ll take a couple of weeks before they start working,” she sniffled.
“Well then,” he mumbled, “just remember that…in a few weeks, it’ll be better.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, because of drugs. Isn’t that brilliant? All I can count on to keep me sane are drugs. What if I get addicted to them Harper? I couldn’t deal with that. Not again.” He sighed.
“But these aren’t those sort of drugs,” he argued, “they’re medicine. And you need them to get better.” She snorted, but didn’t reply. He pondered whether to try and make her eat again, but decided against it. He’d seen how she’d been trying and trying to do it, and maybe that was success enough in it’s own way. He sighed and laid down next to her, hoping this had been a turning point. At least it seemed part of her now wanted to eat the food. He closed his eyes and kept stroking her hair until they were both asleep.
