I dont care to recount all the delineations of dispute, desires, desperation. I stepped out of Alices Mini-Cooper unraveled, uncertain, uncannily unsure of everything. So my motions were mechanical and I reached out for the umbrella that Tina held, in the way that chivalry decreed.

Let me take that, I said, only to see that she pretended not to hear, closing my door decisively and gesturing that this here, this space that Alice owned and that which she had run to, was as far as she would go. She handed me a separate umbrella and said, I trust youll return this to Alice when you can.

Of course I will.

A brief movement of her lips that held no intimation of joy, a simple, Take care of yourself, Bette and a courteous effort to wait until I got to the porch. That was all.

I was disturbed when Tina lingered by the car, holding out an umbrella just for herself, both of us enduring the silence as we looked up to find the other gazing: one in longing, the other in studied haste.

My jaw had tightened at the image of her, suddenly without me, suddenly that, which held meaning, softness, beauty and grace even when lucklessly written out of the annals of Bette Porter. She was, for her own sake. It frightened me not for its sheer weight in ego, but for its growing idiosyncrasies.

Alices umbrella pittered and pattered as though giving ticket to the time, shaking to every thrust of heaven come in drops of water. Some higher power was apparently hurrying me along and I gazed up, as though to be heard,

Oh God, what have I done? What the ***** am I doing?

Leveling my gaze, I found her with no endurance for this fortuitous script, without a notion of how I wanted this all to end as she entered the car and held a hand up in a wave that strangers gave to another.

Was it possible to fall in love again? Because then, I desperately wanted to. She drove away without a second glance and I felt a yawning gap more aptly, this emptiness that possessed me to speechlessness. I couldnt have known then that a more instinctive self-loathing disallowed me the use of my affection.

The rain couldnt have possibly fallen any harder but it did and I was forcibly taken to my living room in a daze.

Dammit. Here Im given one, gigantic piece of a chance and I ***** it up like the rest of my life! was my violent confession to my front door. It received a slap from my palm to convince it of my exasperation before I angrily ditched my clothes into the laundry without bothering to separate the materials.

Was it that the day wept for me? The streets had been washed by the ennui of gray, stalks of descent that found itself in this same City of Angels and dampened it to monochrome. The pain of post-Provocations was dulling into this self-same vision and I desperately needed to feel again.

But at that moment, the phone rang.

Bette? You okay?

Yeah. Ill be fine. I had a hand on my forehead, rubbing a familiar throb that had its roots in pretense, deceit, and furtively, infidelity.

Hey listen, Im thinking we should get dinner down at this Cuban place I found out about just a few days ago

Sounds good.

Great. Ill be there in an hour.

I nod as the woman hangs up, tears in my eyes burning as I waited in vain.

~*~*~*~


We breathe gratefully, surfacing and catching the last remnants of pleasurable air.

You have no idea how happy I am to have you here, she tells me, gazing down in apparent worship of my body and, I dare to hope, of my mind.

I keep silent, content to smile in response, to give minute signals of eye, lip, and cheek; all this that she would accept completely, without wanting more than another ritual beneath the sheets. The message comes across like a well-writ letter and she kisses me with avid attention, edifying in its response. My lips harvests hers and soon, the sensations of unpredictable rhythm paint my town a subtler shade of red.

~*~*~*~

Hello? I glance at the time-piece beside my bed and sink back into the pillows, holding the phone with hands weak from waking.

Silence. Hello? I repeat, louder this time and bothering with exasperation at the silence of the other. Dammit if nobody ***** answers, Ill ***** disconnect the line!

A cough then, Fine! God, youre such a prick!

Sleep catches its breath and in that time given to me, I escape a trail of dreams and enter the waking world whole and without shame. Sitting up, I turn on one of two lamps and carefully prod my reading glasses into place.

Do you know what time it is? I ask, caring less and less that it is three hours before dawn.

Yeah, unfortunately, Alice says, whispering and sounding rather conspiratorial.

Spill it Alice.

I wanted to talk to you about my upholstery

I put a fist on my forehead, trying not to laugh by smiling my cheeks to aching. Bring them over to Bills and tell him to charge me.

Annoyed, she hissed, Thats not what I meant!

Lifting a brow and trying hard to sound solemn, I say, Okay. Care to be less obscure?

I cant! I hear her throw me one of many obscenities in her extensive repertoire, trying to gather her stillness before she literally loosened into her louder, forthright self. Okay, Bills it is then. Be there. Around ten oclock? Great. And do not call the apartment. Or my phone.

You cant get any weirder than this, I say.

***** you Bette. She self-consciously lowers her voice. Just ***** remember, Bills at ten oclock.

Bye Alice, I reply slowly, as though coaxing her to annoyance.

Youre insufferable. Good nightmorning, whatever. I am never calling you at this time again.

The phone is dead and I stare at it, as though peeking the countenance of friendship strengthened a hundredfold. I sigh, close my eyes, and surrender my soul to sleep because loneliness is such that when it hears from an ally, it coincides with consciousness to let slumber tally the time instead.

~*~*~*~

(To Be Continued)