The streets lights were mocking her, or so she thought as the car passed by White House. Am I stupid? …over and over again Bette was asking herself that. Since she left Barbara’s house she had that feeling, the strange feeling eating her alive.

She was proud of what she just did, or didn’t do, she was happy she didn’t sleep with her butnot really. Something inside was killing her. It wasn’t just the notion, the painful reality that there was something wrong, something painfully obvious going on between her and Tina, or being precise, something painfully obvious not going on between them.

Trying to move away from that notion, from that fact, trying to see besides that, Bette realized there was something else bugging her. There was something her body was trying to tell her. She didn’t want to explore it; she didn’t want to go there. She wanted to go home and hug Angelica, she wanted to curl with her in bed, touch her soft skin and see her beautiful smile.

Walking through the Hotel lobby, waiting for the elevator, she realized that she was hoping, wishing to see, to feel, Tina’s smile too.

The real one. The tender, deep, caring one that she used to have plastered on her face all day long. She missed it; she missed Tina’s sweetness, her compassion, her tenderness.

 Riding the elevator Bette thought that she couldn’t love Tina more, she love her, she lust her too but these days she was feeling lost around her. Deep down she knew that she, Bette, was being a bit selfish, was trying to avoid, not really avoid but delay the responsibility she had with her family, she wanted to take care of Angelica and Tina, she wanted that more than anything but she wanted to try doing it her on way, she knew that she was, maybe, being immature, but she also knew that she had the right to be that too.

 Why shouldn’t she try to find a job she liked? If only Tina could be more supportive. She had to know, (if she knew her the way Bette thought she did) that at the end, one way or another she was going to do it, to find the way to take care of them, she just needed timeor support. Bette mumbled cleaning the tear that was running down her face. Opening the door to her room, a memory hit her. Shaking the head she tried to erase it; it was too scary, too real. It made her feel cared, wanted. It made her feel good.