“I’m fine Tina…I’m fine, don’t worry ok?”

It had been two months since the ‘incident’. Bette had been court-ordered to attend counseling for at least one session, and then she was supposed too, technically, keep going. But she didn’t. She felt weak for going. The truth was in that hospital lying on that bed, Bette had buried herself deep inside. She didn’t think about Paxton that much, didn’t think about anything related to that day. She went back to work as soon as possible. That was probably the hardest of all, enduring the looks, the questions, the shushing of people to other people to stop bugging her. She endured an evaluation from the Board of Directors to see if she could even continue working as a curator. She passed.

And then there was Tina. Bette knew without her, she would be truly lost. Lost inside herself. But they had their own set of problems. Bette though she was doing well, she was working, getting back into routine…taking walks. Her neck had healed; it was only sore a little bit. Tina didn’t believe Bette when she told her she was feeling better, cured in fact. “Bette, of course your going to want to move on, but it’s important to deal with the issues now…you heard what that therapist said, post-traumatic stress disorder occurs usually to a few months to a year after the incident?”  Bette slammed her coffee mug down, some spilled on the beige wooden table, staining her newspaper. “Dammit Tina I know all about than shit ok? And I’m fine, I’m fine…I’m not so stupid to say im PERFECTLY fine, but I’m getting along ok?”  Tina cocked her head, frustrated…”You know that’s not true…Bette…” Tina leaned forward, her shoulders tightening. Bette felt her head spin, shit Tina knew. “Bette, you know…I’ve noticed that almost every night you have nightmares, you cry in your sleep then wake up, check that I’m sleeping then go back to sleep. Sometimes you have nightmares again sometimes you don’t. Kit called too you know, she’s still kind of on her way to recovery but she said she’ll be here in a few days. I don’t know about your father but you talked to him right? And what else, your paranoid when you drive, your always turning on all the lights, even at night. You scope the room out before entering; you always jump when I touch you unexpectedly. And your not talking, not even to me…about what happened? Doesn’t that tell you something?”  Bette sighed, sipped her coffee…checking her watch. “Yeah it tells me I’m fucked up and need help, but I won’t I can’t…I can deal with this on my own, im already dealing with it, im writing in my journal (lie) I’m reading self-help books (true) and im going to go to a therapist when I feel ready myself (lie)” Tina crossed her arms. Bette spoke again…”?I just need to deal with this on my own, I don’t want anyone’s help, im fine” With that she stood up and walked to the kitchen, filling her mug with water and leaving it in the sink. She was such a liar.