Bette hadn’t planned on seeing Tina. She hadn’t even planned on talking to her. But when she left work and started driving she somehow ended up in front of the house. She’d actually ended up in front of the house three times before she stopped circling the block and parked the car. In was during her second circuit that Bette began considering what she might say, once she got up her nerve and rang the doorbell.

Ringing the doorbell to her own house. How completely insane was that? Bette still had the keys, she could walk in at any time. Except that she wouldn’t. At least Tina trusted her enough to know that. It wasn’t a huge flag-waving vote of confidence, but it was something. Of course, Bette mused, by now all of the locks might be changed.

Tina’s lawyer had advised them that since the house was in both of their names, they could either put it up for sale and split the profits, or one could buy the other out. The idea of selling their house, the finality behind that decision, had been so excruciating to Bette, that she could barely get through the conversation. She had merely sat on her side of the highly polished mahogany conference table and nodded, mutely, while Tina and her hired gun sat across from her. In the end, they’d left it up in the air-one of the many details still floating around waiting to settle.

“Do you want to come in?” Tina asked.

“Yes. I’d like to come in. If that’s okay.”

Bette followed Tina into the living room. She wanted everything to happen in slow motion so she’d have a chance to look at Tina, really look, noticing every curve and angle, every shape and color. Taking her in. Savoring every impression and nuance to hold her over until next time. Bette’s eyes were starving from the lack of Tina, and no matter how complicated and messy things were between them right now, there was no denying that fact.

“Can I get you something to drink? There’s juice, seltzer. Shane left some beer. Oh, and there’s Yoohoo,” Tina added.

“Yoohoo?” Bette asked.

“You know, that chocolate stuff.”