~~~~~

     "Exactly what have you and Tina discussed about the future?"

     "Not much, really. We spend the night at each other’s houses, but sidestep discussing any real plans."

     "After all that’s happened, all the things you both went through to get here … " Dr. Foxworthy trailed off, alluding to the obvious.

     She answered softly, "Being with her again – that was easy enough. But talking about our future … there’s still that element of doubt, mistrust."

     "Does Tina think you’d have an affair again?"

     Bette replied immediately, shaking her head. "No – God, no. When I was with other women … afterwards … " She gestured her hands in the air. "I just felt so empty. It wasn’t like that at first with Jodi, but after awhile … all I could do was compare her with Tina. It’s different with her – it’s always been different – when we’re together, everything else just goes away … Ever since she came back to me, it’s as if I’ve forgotten who I am or what I’ve been doing my whole life … " she ended in a whisper.

     "Then don’t you think she should be the last person to be afraid of? She knows you. What’s left to say?"

~~~~~

     "My college art professor."

     Tina propped herself against the pillows and played with Bette’s hair. "Was she gay?"

     "No. Husband, kids, house with a white picket fence. I enrolled in every course she taught. Her lectures on figurative art, postminimalism, Tachisme … " Bette’s expression became placid. "They were amazing. Her knowledge was expansive and she spoke with such passion … She was the reason why I chose modern art."

     Tina smiled as she listened to the wistfulness in Bette’s voice. "She must’ve been beautiful."

     Bette nestled closer with a contented sigh. "She didn’t have your eyes." Playfully, she nudged Tina’s foot with hers. "So are you going to tell me about the tattoo?"

     "Got that back in Durham when I was a senior in high school." Her lips curved impishly. "What about you? Surely there’s something the accomplished Bette Porter can’t do."

     She laughed. "I can’t cook. You?"

     "Of course, I’m a Southern girl. Didn’t your momma teach you?" Immediately, Tina felt Bette withdraw. "I’m sorry," she said softly. "What happened to her?"

     An old, familiar shame came over Bette. "She left when I was nine. I never saw her again. She died when I was in college – alcoholism. My father, he – he raised me by himself." She stopped, unable to bring herself to speak of his affair.

     Tina rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "My dad – the sperm donor – took off after I was born, so it was just the two of us. Mom never forgave him – or me, for that matter – we always had this passive-aggressive thing … Sometimes she’d just collapse and lean on me; sometimes she’d lash out. Grandma reined her in a lot, but then she had a stroke. She moved in with us and I took care of her too, until she died. After that, things between us … " Tina’s voice trailed off and she sighed bitterly. "Mom never understood why I had to move away for college. Haven’t been home since."

     There was a long, awkward moment while they were lost in mutual sadness. Finally, Bette reached out and laced her fingers with Tina’s.

     "I’m claustrophobic," she admitted shyly, breaking the silence. "I get panic attacks if I feel like I’m trapped."

     Tina smiled and stated authoritatively, "Psychology 101: Behavior Modification. You just have to think of something else."

     "Oh, yeah?" Bette gazed at her expectantly. "Like what?"

     Tina turned back to Bette and started stroking her hair again. "I’m falling in love with you."

~~~~~