“But then her mother says, Helena, if I give you any of the family finances, it’s with the condition that you go back to, you know, your art and shit.”

“Art and shit? Did Peggy Peabody say those exactly words, Alice?” Bette smiled, sitting down with a cappuccino and placing it on the table in front of her.   

“Bette, that’s not the point! The point is that Helena is a frikkin artist! She’s shown her stuff all over Europe! She does weird stuff with photographs, paints them and whatever. Like you know, in that movie about the student and her teacher, how the teacher does that thing where she paints on pictures.” Alice interrupted her frantic descriptions of Helena’s activities by swatting her ex-girlfriend on the arm, “Bette, you should be all over this!”

Tina leaned forward, adding her two cents: “Actually, she sculpts as well. And paints.”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaat?” Jenny’s face was scrunched in disbelief. No one but her could possibly be a real artist. She was a writer. She was very profound. And blahblahblah.

“I think it’s cool. I always thought Helena had some hidden talents.” Shane shrugged and sipped her coffee.

Bette turned to Angelica who was on Tina’s lap beside her.  She played with Angelica’s feet, trying to get her daughter’s attention.  For some odd reason, the little girl always fixated on the ceiling when she was around her mommies and their friends. 

After a moment’s pause, Bette spoke. “Well, Alice, what do you want me to do about Helena’s hidden talents?”  

“I don’t know, Bette, jeez, give her a grant or hire her or whatever.” Alice sat back, looking up at the ceiling to find whatever it was that Angelica was so interested in.

Bette smiled, lifting her coffee cup to her lips. Shane joined Alice in her search for profound things up above. Jenny continued to think weird thoughts.

“Well, gang, I have to get to work. Bette, you’re ok with Angelica’s things?” Tina lifted herself from her chair, revealing a pile of stuff for Bette and Angelica’s weekend together.  It was Friday morning and Bette had taken the day off to have a long weekend with her daughter. It had been two days since her dinner with Peggy and Helena, and three days since her night with the woman—a night which the gang still knew nothing about, or at least she hoped that this was the case.