I watched Bette as she considered my question, and I wondered if I would get a direct answer or not. Honestly, I’m not sure what concerned me more, that she wouldn’t answer, or that she would.

Just as I was about ready to return to my day, she started, speaking quietly.

“I’m not sure, exactly.”

Well, that puts us on equal footing.

“I thought, well, I thought there were a lot of things set in my life. But then I realized last week that maybe that’s not the case. Maybe nothing’s set, perhaps I’ve just settled.”

Settled for the fancy loft in Manhattan? Settled on the model girlfriends – don’t think I haven’t heard about those. Settled on the career that earns coverage in the New York Times?

I have done alright for myself, also, so it’s not jealousy, exactly. Let’s just say that my sympathy is waning.

She gave me one of those cute looks. The kind of look where she somehow manages to look like a young girl despite her years. Not that Bette is old, exactly. After all, if she’s old, I’d be considered old, also. She’s aged, but she’s aged well. Her appearance gives her a certain distinguished quality, while belying her true age.

But dammit, she probably remembers how that look used to work on me. How it’d play on all of my caretaker instincts.

Well, it would, but that was the past. Now, I think I’ve been worked over by an even bigger pro for the last few years. Some of those well-honed instincts are also quite a bit less susceptible to manipulation.

I hope.

She looks at me as if she expects me to speak. I’m not sure I’d have anything to say. After all, I’m not the one who flew cross-country, unannounced, to spill my guts.

Not that I hadn’t flown cross-country recently myself, but that was for a far different reason.

“Ok, you’re not going to make things easy for me. I can respect that.”

Can you, Bette? Because I plan on keeping that respect.

“Seeing Jess, seeing you, I realized that we’ve let things go unresolved for far too long.”

Unresolved? Now I was almost ready to speak, but I choked back the words.

When I was a single parent to a three-year old, I was dealing with more lawyers and stacks of paperwork than I ever want to see again. How much more resolved does it get?

“T, I’ve don’t a lot of stupid things. Some of those hurt you, hurt us. But the most idiotic thing I ever did was letting you push me out of your life, and out of our daughter’s life.”

Ah. I understand now. I pushed. It is, of course, entirely my fault that our marriage imploded. I was the one whose time was consumed with most of the late night feedings, with teething and colic. I handled the potty training, and the first and worst fevers.

Even during the time we were technically together, I was most often, in reality, alone. And I pushed? I can’t remember having the energy.

I am not getting sucked into the Bette Porter world of revisionist bullshit.

“You know your way out.” I got up and went inside, locking the French doors behind me.

Back to the kitchen. Back to my newspaper. Back to forgetting that woman in the back yard who wants to make me the blame for whatever.

I don’t know how long she stayed out there. After a half hour of reading the newspaper, I glanced out the front window and noticed that there was a car behind mine in the driveway, trapping me without transportation.

Jess is pouting in her room. Bette’s pouting at the pool.

They are not genetically related, but they are so alike.

I had to get out.

When I grabbed the phone, I noticed Bette had yet to move. Fine. She always liked it out there. She can spend the day if she wants.

She answered on the third ring. “Alice?” Thank God she’s home. “Look, are you interested in brunch with Jess and I?”

“Sounds like fun. You guys can fill me in on New York.” Not quite what I’m thinking of for fun, but if it gets Jess to spill something, it’d be worth it.

“Al, I’m having car problems. Can you pick us up?”

“I thought you just had your car serviced.” Why does she have to remember these things?

“I did, Alice, but please, can you swing by.” C’mon, Alice, it’s just brunch, it’s not that tough.

“Sure. I’ll be there in a little bit.”

“Thanks, Al. We’ll see you then.”

I hung up the phone, planning my next attack – how to convince Jess to leave. With her in this mood, I didn’t want to leave both her and Bette here without a responsible adult.

Before I entered her room, I knocked lightly. I didn’t really expect her to say anything, so I entered.

At one point she tried locking her door, not realizing how easy these door locks are to pick. Also no realizing how poorly I was going to take the idea of her locking me out of rooms of my own house.

As Jess gets older, I’m trying to give her more space to make decisions, and more independence. But the last thing I want is for her to lock her life away from me. I don’t think I could take that sort of loss, nor do I think that at her age she’d understand.

“Jess, are you awake?”

She rolled to face me. She might have been napping, which won’t hurt her. Sometimes I don’t think she gets enough sleep.

“We’re going to brunch with Alice.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who’s ‘we’?”

I probably should get over the habit of rolling my eyes at her, but I think she’ll have to get out of the habit of being a teenager, first. “The same ‘we’ we’ve always had, you and I.”

She momentarily perked up, and then went back to a more neutral look. “Okay. Let me put my shoes on.”

Then she glanced out to the back yard. “Um, she’s still here.”

“I know.”

“And we’re leaving?”

I gave a shrug. This was possibly not the best example to set for my daughter, but until she and I really had a chance to discuss things, I don’t know that I could quickly explain it all. “We finished our conversation.”

“But, it’s okay, and everything, to just leave her?”

I’m not sure if Jess was more concerned for Bette or for the pool.

“It’ll be fine.” I held out my hand. She took it, and I pulled her up into a sitting position.

Just then, I heard a car horn outside.

“Come on, Alice is here.”

Jess slid on some sandals and followed me from the room.

We left out the front, with Jess testing twice to make sure the door was locked.

As Alice pulled away from the curb I saw that she kept looking over her shoulder. Then, as we started driving away, she kept glancing over at me.

Alice’s driving can be disconcerting enough, on occasion. I wasn’t sure what was up, but I did hope she’d keep her eyes on the road.

“Uh, Tina?”

“Yeah?” Please notice that stop sign. Thanks.

“I hate to ask, but back there at your house, out in your yard. Was that Bette?”

(tbc)