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SATURDAY MORNING

Tina awoke to the sun shining through the window, directly hitting her in the face.  “Fuck”, she grunted as she rolled over and looked at the clock.  It was 8:30am.  “How did I get home last night?”, she wondered as she placed her hand on her forehead.  She felt like hell and got up to use the restroom.  The simple act of sitting up and getting out of bed was painful, as the spins had yet to fully subside.  As Tina stumbled to the bathroom, she noticed she was still dressed in her clothes from the previous evening.  

As Tina undressed to change into sweats and a t-shirt, she cleared out the pockets of her jeans from the night before.  She found a $20 bill in the back right pocket, a bunch of singles in her front pockets, and a business card for the Bette Porter Art Gallery.  “Who is Bette Porter?”, Tina wondered….”And why do I have her card?”  Tina grabbed her cell phone and noticed five new text messages.  She flipped open the phone and tried to piece together the night.  Four of the five texts were from Helena, asking Tina to call her when she woke.  The last text was from an unknown number.  It read, “Had a great time.  Can’t wait to see you again”.  Tina stared at the phone, having no recollection of giving out her number or interacting with anyone who would want to see her again.  “I don’t remember flirting with any guys last night”, Tina said aloud.  “In fact, I don’t remember much of anything”, she chuckled.  “I am never drinking again”.  With that Tina walked back to her bed and pulled the covers over her head.  

Across town, Bette woke up to an empty bed.  She stretched her body like a cat awakening from a nap and yawned loudly.  Her date had left a few hours earlier after Bette told her she had to get up in the morning and suggested that she not spend the night.  Classic move and very effective.  

Bette lazily got out of bed and started to walk to the kitchen when she suddenly stopped.  She caught her reflection in the mirror that hung in the hallway.  Her hair was disheveled and she had bags under her eyes.  Granted, she only slept for a few hours, but there was something else that caught Bette’s attention.  Her eyes seemed hollow. They were communicating something that was foreign to Bette.  It was something she had never seen before.  It was sadness. 

Bette prided herself on her ability to stay even kneel.  She was never one to show emotion.  She always had to be the strong one, as a child growing up in a single parent home, as a bi-racial person, as a lesbian, and now as the owner of her own business.  She thought back to the one relationship in her life that had the possibility of enduring.  She remembered an argument one night when her ex-partner, Megan, expressed her frustration that Bette never showed her emotions.  Megan wanted Bette to be upset, to be angry, to just show something…anything.  Ultimately, it was this issue that had led to the break-up.  As Bette stared back at her empty eyes in the mirror, the sadness she saw was overwhelming.  Without notice, a tear formed in her eye and fell down her cheek.  It was as if someone else was crying.  Bette suddenly felt a dizzy.  She immediately looked away and wiped her cheek.  She wasn’t about to start to feel now.