It wasn’t so much that she said it-I can’t say I didn’t expect it, after everything she’d said-it was the way she said it, like I was a dumb kid who couldn’t possibly understand her big, bad art-world, and oh, I was getting my comeuppance.

“Yes,” I said.

She opened one container after another. I backed off from the counter.

“You can still stay here,” Bette said with a kind smile, or some approximation of it. “Until you can figure out what you’re going to do.”

I don’t know what made me say it or what made me say it in such a hostile tone, but the words, “Don’t do me any favors,” had passed my lips before I could stop myself.

Bette looked startled for a brief second, and then that sarcastic smile that had intimidated me the first night we met appeared on her features and she shook her head. “Don’t do you any favors? This whole set-up was just one big favor, wasn’t it?”

I stepped back from her again, further this time. “I just-I fucked up, Bette, and I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t fire a qualified assistant for making one mistake, would you?”

“That’s the whole thing,” she said calmly, opening containers. My hands were shaking. “You’re not a qualified assistant and it was a mistake to hire you.”

“Then why did you do it?”

She looked at me in disbelief, and I felt like a dumb kid again. “Because I was doing you a favor.”

“Well, I don’t want your favors.” My back was against the refrigerator. “And I’ll leave in the morning.”

She scoffed. “Alice. Don’t be ridiculous. You can stay, just-”

“No.” I moved past her toward the guest room. “I’ll start packing now and I’ll be gone tomorrow-”

“Al,” she said, following me. “Where are you going to go?”

I flicked the light on, moved toward the dresser. “My mom’s in town. She’s, uh…” Bette was leaning against the doorframe, watching me as I emptied my clothes out of the dresser. “She’s doing this mini-series for CBS or TBS, maybe, I’m not sure. Uh, anyway… I can stay with her.”

Bette regarded me seriously for a moment. “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” I said without hesitation. “That’s what I want.”

“Fine.” She made a move to leave and then turned back. “I’m having dinner now, if you want-”

“Yeah, I’m not hungry or anything, so.”

Bette shrugged, clapped her hands together and turned away, shutting the door behind her. And it was actually the last time I saw her for awhile. I loaded my car up at eight in the morning and drove off before Bette woke up.

And so, yeah, anyway-that was the third thing.