“Do you want breakfast?”

“Hmm.”

“Is that a yeah-hmm or a no-hmm?” She kept poking.

“It’s a…” I opened my eyes. It was still dark, despite the feeling of the sun on my back. “*****. Why is it still dark?”

“What? Oh.” Bette chuckled. “You have a pillow over your head.”

Oh. I removed the pillow and tried to get a bead on my surroundings. The bondage painting Bette likes to pretend she likes for its composition rather than its nakedness clued me into the fact that we were at Bette’s place. I rolled over and looked at her, perched on the edge of the bed, showered and dressed. She had a tired smile on her face that made me want to go back to sleep.

“Hey,” I said, yawning. “What time is it?”

“A little after one,” she said, and then explained, “I let you sleep.”

I stretched. “That was nice of you.”

“I’m nice.”

The pillow I buried my face in muffled my laughter, but she must’ve seen my shoulders shaking because she got all offended and started trying to push me out of bed.

“Okay, I’m up, I’m up.” She was staring off into space. “Are you okay?” I asked her, pulling some clothes on.

“Yes.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, only succeeding in making it look stupider. “How come your yes’s always sound like no’s?”

That got at least a small smile. She leaned back against the headboard of the bed.

“Bette, what’s wrong?”

If I didn’t know her better, I’d wonder if there were tears in her eyes. But it was Bette, so there couldn’t have been. I drifted closer to the bed and gave her a minute.

“I, uh…” She shrugged and spread her hands helplessly. “Kit took off again. Her son called this morning and said he’d been having trouble getting in touch with her, so I tried calling her and it said the number was disconnected.” She shook her head; she looked faraway. “I went by her apartment and, uh… yeah, she’s taken off.”

“When did you do that?”

“This morning.”

“While I was sleeping?” She nodded. I cocked my head to the side. “You know, you shouldn’t have had to go through that alone. You could’ve woken me up.”

Another shrug. “I wanted to be alone.”

It wasn’t about me, I knew that, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Of course I knew she never depended on anyone-I knew that. But I wasn’t just anyone to her, was I? Was I?

I stood there, being useless. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Alice.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be alone now.”

It was another of those moments where I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be seeing her this way-hurt, vulnerable, just a little bit broken. I was torn between wanting so badly for her to trust me enough to let her guard down and a desire to never see her as anything more than a pillar of strength.

“Okay,” I said. I climbed on the bed, maneuvered myself into her lap. Her arms came tight around me, hard, the slightest bit desperate, her head against my shoulder. “Okay?” I said again.

She nodded.

It seemed stupid of my mother to try and break relationships up into such straightforward categories, as though it was always give or take and the two never merged. I could take care of Bette. I could take care of her just fine.

“Bette,” I said. “Maybe Kit just moved and she hasn’t given anyone her new address yet.”

Bette was silent.

“Or maybe she checked herself into a clinic again and she’s too embarrassed to tell anyone.” She squeezed me tighter. “Right?” She was still silent. “Or maybe-”

“Alice,” Bette said softly. “Don’t you ever want to just sit and not talk?”

I quieted down and listened to her breathe. I’d give it a try; seemed pretty useless to me.