Chapter 4

Sitting down on the couch in her suite, Bette, bending slightly forward, rests her elbows on her knees and buries her head in her hands. Her brunette curls covering her face. She can’t get her head around what had happened with Jodie. Her thoughts are scrambled and her head is throbbing. Her entire body aches. If she feels this miserable, how must Jodie feel?  Although alone, she talks out loud half expecting someone to answer. “OK Bette, what have you done? God, what do I mean what have I done. I didn’t know. I just didn’t know. Should I have known? Am I just so self-centered and self-serving that I am not even aware of what people are doing and saying around me. I’m a FUCKING bitch.”  I’ve got to call her. I can’t just leave it like this.”

Taking her cell phone out of her bag, she dials Jodie’s cell phone.

Tom answers in caution mode.

“Hello”

“Tom it’s Bette, please wait before you say anything to Jodie.”

“OK.”

“Is she ok?”

“Other than having her heart ripped from her chest, she is still standing.”

“Tom, I need to talk to her. You have got to make her listen.”

“Bette, all I can do is relay the conversation. Has anyone tried to make you listen lately when you did not want to. How’d that work out for  them?” Tom’s voice trailed off his sarcasm dripping. He knew stubborn had met bull headed and they were about to go into round three.

“Tom, please tell her it’s me and ask her if she will talk to me.”

Signing to Jodie, “It’s Bette and she wants to talk”

Jodie, very animated at this point signs, “I knew who it was Tom. I don’t want to talk!” Tom relayed Jodie’s comment.

“Ask her to please accept my apology. She never said that she would accept my apology!”

Searing eyes watch as Tom signs Bette’s words.

“I accept your apology. I am not talking to you anymore today about this.” Tom verbalized those stinging words and when he finished, Bette’s phone fell silent again.

~~

Sinking into a bath of hot water with essence of lavender, Bette tried to relax and put together her thoughts to convince Jodie not to hate her. She was so consumed by her anguish that her tears fell like the slow rush of the water filling her bath. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs and held on tight. She needed to hold on. She needed someone to hold onto. She cupped her hands to draw water into them and slowly opening her hands she let the water fall over her head. Repeatedly she cupped her hands and let the water fall over her. The bath water and her tears fell together. Pushing her hair back away from her face, she opened those beautiful brown eyes and started to regain her composure. She had to get herself together. She was after all the strong, willful, driven, powerful Bette Porter and she needed to start acting the part. That was just it, she needed to act the part. Everyone on the outside needed to see her as the successful art collector, critic and educator that she is. However, those who know her intimately know the vulnerable Bette Porter. The one who lives and loves so completely and openly. The Bette that can be hurt and can succumb to her pain at hurting others. She can be so tenderly attentive to her daughter and almost ruthless in her drive to get what she wants. The yin and yang of her life are misunderstood by those who do not know her like Tina does. Like her sister Kit does. Like her friends Alice and Shane do. They know her better than she knows herself sometimes. She has her own fears of pain and disappointment. Her intimate life is something she wants to protect. Don’t invade her space without her invitation.