"Okay, guys, this is bad," Alice said late that night, dumping an empty vodka bottle into the trash can in Bette’s kitchen. She turned to Dana, Lara and Shane, who had followed her to the kitchen and leaving Jenny, Carmen and Kit outside with Bette. "I’ve never seen her drink this much, even after…"

She couldn’t bear to finish that sentence. She did not want to finish that sentence. The fact that Bette continued to fall apart despite the support of seven different women had proved her theory that Bette only needed one.

"Don’t you think we should call Tina?" Dana asked. "I mean, I know Bette told us not to, but…"

"And what? Tell her to come here because Bette’s a mess and ready to fall apart?" Shane asked flatly. "What can we possibly say that would make Tina come here?"

"That we’re not the ones who can help Bette?" Lara suggested.

Alice turned and smiled at her patiently. "Lara, we don’t question Yoda."

"Guys, she’s drowning." Dana insisted.

Alice hesitated, and glanced at Dana, then Lara, then finally at Shane. Making a very quick decision, she took a deep breath. "Give me the phone."

Dana dashed off, and immediately returned holding the cordless. She gave it to Alice, who promptly dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Hey! TK, it’s me, Alice. Yes. Alice. Pieszecki. That one. Uh huh, listen, um, Bette’s dad died. We would’ve told you sooner but we were sworn to secrecy, and everything. So, well, she needs you. We need you." Alice paused. "I know, you’re busy and everything. But you loved us once, remember? Okay. Uh huh. Bye."

"That didn’t sound good." Shane noted.

"What did she say?" Lara inquired.

"Is she coming?" Dana asked eagerly.

"***** if I know," Alice shrugged. "I got the machine."

Bette crawled into her bed, wishing to God the alcohol she’d consumed helped how she felt, but knew it really didn’t. She wished she was stronger than how she felt right now, but as much as she just wanted to fall apart, she had to keep it together. This was what was expected of her, and her father would not approve of this sign of weakness.

As Bette curled into a fetal position on the bed that seemed to have grown in size, she wished for two women who were not here. Her mother, who was stronger than what her father had believed her to be.

And the other one. The one whose name still pained her to say. The one who left her and she continued to miss.

Lying here now, on this bed, her emotions in complete disarray, Bette grabbed the pillow on the left side of the bed and hugged it tightly.

Was this what it was like for her father? When her mom left, did he lay in bed and feel like the bed was just too big without her? Did he lay awake at night and wonder if he should follow, if he should try to make things right? Did he wonder if she was better off being gone, being away? Did he sometimes spray her perfume on her pillow, in different areas of the house, to suddenly be reminded of her scent and feel for one split second that everything was fine? Did he sometimes bring her dress to bed, knowing a part of her, some skin cells, remained on that item, and believe that a part of her was there with him?

As these thoughts ran through her mind, Bette was thankful Alice and the gang were camping out in her living room, providing what support they can for her, because she genuinely felt she could not do this alone.

I really wish you’re here right now, Bette thought, addressing both her mother and Tina, both of whom were not there with her. As she fell asleep, Bette wondered why she was here, why Tina was in New York, and why weren’t they together.

to be continued