Previously:

    Bette silently sighed in relief but outwardly simply
smiled. Sometimes, she thought, sometimes having a reputation for
dense-ness is nothing short of a divine blessing.

    They finished their light meal of salads and soup,
paid the bill, then left in separate cars, both shaking their heads
slightly at the prodigy that is Bette Porter.

     Paradise, Bette mused. What might paradise be
for me? I’m sitting here in front of my window, looking out at
artificial lights, concocting silly analogies. “Paradise for me would
be a dictionary opened to a picture of the Garden of Eden,” Bette
laughed quietly to herself. “And it is a snapshot in time, with no
tomorrow in sight…  No tomorrow to scare me sleepless tonight.
Oh God what am I saying?” Bette suddenly stood up and paced to the
opposite wall.

    “Listen,” she addressed the wall, “I’m going to be
pacing here all night. Feel free to fall on top of me anytime.” Bette
commenced pacing. “Okay,” she started trying to sort things out. “Okay,
so tomorrow night, some random woman, some woman I know nearly nothing
about, is going to come in here… going to come into my home… Oh
God… and she’s going to eat my dinner… then, and then…” she took
a deep breath as she felt her heart rate speed up, “Then, uh… well, I
don’t know,” Bette giggled helplessly to no one. “Yeah so anyway…
Goddammit! Alice you crazy *****… ***** ***** *****!!! She hired a
***** escort for me! Oh God!”  she took another deep breath.
Closed her eyes. Took another. And another. Until she felt reasonably
calmer.

    This woman will come into my home, take one look and
leave. That’s it. Bette stared at her collected artwork, at the little
knick knacks she’d collected from her travels abroad, at the sofa, the
book shelves, then finally at her bare toes.

     “So leave,” she declared fiercely under her
breath, “Everyone leaves me anyway. But I don’t care. I’m fine being
alone. I’m a successful career person. I have friends, some, who love
me. Uh, I’m close to buying a house! If only it weren’t such a bother
to look for one. I’m going to Italy for a meeting with the biggest
artists’ group there! If only I wasn’t going just because my boss wants
to get me into bed. I’m pretty! If only… if only Candace didn’t leave
me…” At this point in her impassioned speech, Bette’s voice faltered
and she slumped down on the couch, suddenly ennervated. “Bette, who are
you kidding? This woman will take one look at you, spin around on her
heels, and leave. And you’ll be glad. Wouldn’t you? Yeah,” Bette stared
hard at the coffee table’s polished wooden surface. She noticed how the
sworls had a pattern where the darker hues seemed to swallow the
lighter mahogany.

    Yeah, Bette. You’d be happy to get rid of her… wouldn’t you?”

    Exhausted and beaten, Bette walked to the bedroom,
took a couple of sleeping pills from the bedside table, and lay down on
the bed. She carefully popped the pills one by one. She tucked her
favorite blanket around her, the one with the jagged lines at the edge.
Closing her eyes in defeat, she fingered the lines one by one, counting
as she sunk into sleep.

    She dreamt of falling into water. She dreamt she had
turned into a salmon. She dreamt she was swimming upstream, frantically
beating her fins against the heedless current. She saw the flash of
scales that moved further and further away, leaving her gasping and
tiring, always, inevitably, behind.

TBC