Bette was pacing her living room rapidly. Sat down on the sofa, Tina was looking at her quite anxiously. After they had finished their dinner in a relatively awkward and painful silence, Tina had gone to help Bette clean up the kitchen, making a hazardous comment about how sorry she was to have broken down the news on her so unexpectedly. That’s when Bette had finally snapped, unable to keep her facade much longer.
– How could you think it would not fucking break my heart? Bette asked. I don’t blame you Tina, but how can you expect me not to be devastated? And this has nothing to do with whether or not I’m happy for you, of course I’m happy for you. You know I’ve never wanted anything else for you than to be happy. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be that person for you, and it drives me insane to see that I still can’t be.
– You can. You were that person for so long.
Bette stopped pacing to take a look at Tina.
– You can’t say that now, she said, insecurity and tremor audible in her voice.
– Why? Don’t you think it’s driving me crazy too, that we can’t seem to figure out what’s wrong, that we keep loosing and finding each other again? Tina asked, her voice raising too.
– No, listen to me ! I had to make a choice. At some point, I had to make a choice. I love you Bette. So completely. But the same things kept happening, the same problems kept repeating, I kept feeling hollow inside and I had to make a choice. I still don’t know if I made the right one, I don’t even know if I ever made the right choice. All I know is that I don’t understand how it can feel both so right and so wrong to be with someone, and I need to figure it out.
Bette stayed silent for a while, taking in her words. Hearing Tina say that being together felt wrong stang, and she tried not to dwell too long on this part. Of course she knew Tina must have felt this way, to go as far as divorcing her, but it still hurt. What was even worse is that she never really noticed, back when they were still together, she never really understood how Tina felt, until it was too late, once again. How was it possible, to love someone that much, to feel so fulfilled by someone’s mere presence, only to realise that something was missing to the other? How could this kind of love not be utterly and irrevocably reciprocal?