She paused for a minute. I watched her glance behind her and then speed up, and once she’d changed lanes, she said, “Definitely. Someday.”

“Oh.” I leaned back against the smooth leather of the car seat. I watched the road for awhile and scolded myself for having the conversation with Bette that breaks couples up all the time. I think that, for the past twenty or so years of my life, my brain and mouth have been in a fight and refuse to cooperate with one another.

“I didn’t mean that I never want to have kids,” I said. Bette quirked an eyebrow and stayed silent, so I plowed on, “I definitely do, some day when I’m more settled and like, stable.” And don’t hate kids anymore, I finished silently in my head.

With an indulgent smile, Bette said, “Okay, Al,” and then ruffled my hair playfully. Great. That’s just what I need, for my mom to comment on how I don’t brush my hair.

My girlfriend and my mother get along on a weird level.

It’s totally unanticipated. I mean, Bette’s an impatient realist with almost no tolerance for people like Lenore, who seriously lives on an entirely different planet that is not like our own. Bette is serious, hard-working; my mother’s one of the more flighty and frivolous people you could ever meet.

Of course they got along like a house on fire.

I think Bette finds her charming. She is not the first person I’ve dated who finds my mother charming. Everyone seems to find her charming, which I guess is a good thing for her career, but honestly. I mean, I’m not trying to say I grew up in some sort of Mommie Dearest type of atmosphere, but the woman can be an absolute nightmare sometimes.

“Oh, good, Alice, you’re back!” the nightmare woman shouted as soon as I walked into the apartment. I had run to the store to pick up some stuff for dinner and left Bette with Lenore. The two of them were lounging around on my couch, an open bottle of wine on the coffee table and a glass in each of their hands. “I was just telling Bette about the time you and Nelson snuck onto the set when I was filming the Gavras picture-and we opened the wine, sweetie, I hope you don’t mind.”