Back in New Haven, Bette called Ash to ask about the party.  He had left a few messages and she explained that she had slept through them. 

“I’m feeling a lot better now.”

“Really?  Is it okay if I come over?”

“Definitely.  I missed you tonight.”

That night, Bette made guilty love with him.  She should have just told him she didn’t want to go to the party; she should have said she preferred the movies that night and to hang out with a friend.  She couldn’t understand her secrecy.  Gail was a buddy, so why shouldn’t they get together?  She and Ash did have many friends they saw as a couple, but each of them had their own set of friends.  Spending time with one of them wasn’t odd.  It was perfectly normal.  She wouldn’t lie to him again.  If she wanted to see Gail or any of her friends, she’d tell him.  Tonight was the exception, but she planned on making things right between them and promised herself to work harder at their relationship.  Maybe she and Ash could connect once they were away from school.  They needed a break, alone, together. 

* * * * *

A few days later, Bette arrived at Beinecke library to study.  Bette felt at ease in a pair of worn and fashionably torn 501 jeans, a peach long-sleeved Polo shirt, and a pair of duck shoes that kept her feet warm and dry during those cold days.  These were clothes that had an endless appeal to Yale preppies.

She thought about her constantly and told herself it was just curiosity.  She’d never known a ***** woman.  Bette couldn’t bring herself to say ***** or even think it.  She didn’t know why, but it did.  She preferred to use the term ***** woman. She shook her head, thinking that she’d blown her chance to learn what two women do together.  If she had only been brave enough to follow through with their conversation. 

Bette was talking to her boss when Gail walked in and requested time in the Rare Book Collections with the work-study student seated at the circulation desk.  Bette surreptitiously watched her.  Gail was quite attractive in an understated way.  She seemed like a guy’s best female friend and the close friend a woman could count on giving her the truth, even if it hurt—there wouldn’t be any of the biting and backstabbing, none of the double-talk that Bette hated.  Gail appeared strong, confident, intensely brainy, and ready to take on any project, while being soft and open to the world around her.  Feeling eyes on her, Gail looked up and smiled at Bette and just that smile caused Bette’s heart to beat a tad faster.  Bette shook herself from the reverie and volunteered to chaperone the patron.  Her supervisor was relieved since she didn’t have to pull someone else from their position.