“Jesus Christ woman” laughed Imogen pushing the opposite chair out for Bette to sit in.

The student obeyed, slumping into the chair and pouring sugar in the coffee that had already been ordered for her.

“What’s the problem?” asked Bette nonchalantly as though she hadn’t noticed her current state.

But her company wasn’t going to bite that easily and gestured the thought away with her hand, causing her large bracelets to bump against each other in a hypnotic rhythm.

“Forget it, I’ve organised something of a play date for me” began Gen as she leant toward Bette over the table lazing her head on her hands

“A play date?” came Porter’s somewhat uninspired sarcastic response

“That’s right with one of the new artists in residence”

Bette was surprised and flattered- for a first year to be placed in that sort of regard was, well unheard of and it was then that she began to doubt Lambert’s intentions.

“Why?” her voice was cool and firm, the beginnings of the Bette we know today.

Before she gave any verbal response Imogen sent Bette a rather knowing long smile that settled into a smirk, and disappeared as she began to talk.

“It’ll be great practice for you in terms of a future in the arts and well, I think you two will get on”

If Dean Porter were having this conversation in place of her freshman self the bush the two were dancing around would be quickly circumvented and the preposterous notion of what was essentially a blind date would be quickly extinguished. However circa 1980s Yale undergraduate Bette was content in the land of denial where her mentor and late night fantasy could not have guessed at the recurring thoughts that troubled her.

“It doesn’t really seem like I have a choice”

“I’m glad you feel that way, because you don’t!” declared Imogen as she sipped on her coffee triumphantly.

**

Professor Lambert was not taking any chances with Bette, the meeting was scheduled for that afternoon- which denied the student even a chance to change or run a background check on this Victoria Mack, the only other facts she had been offered were that she was a New York native with no formal artistic training, 22 and a woodcutter. Woodcuts as an artistic discipline didn’t hold much interest to this Arts Major but she had already agreed and Imogen wasn’t about to back down.