"So you’re not accepting gifts from me now?" she asked dully, stubbing out the joint.

     Dana shook her head quickly. "No, no, it’s not that … umm … the engagement’s off. Tonya is, uh, in love with somebody else."

     It took Bette a few seconds before the information sank in. She moved to embrace her. "Oh, Dana … "

     She returned the hug gratefully. "I’m okay," Dana said quietly over her shoulder.

     Bette pulled back and nodded toward the box. "You can keep this, y’know, it’s not a big deal."

     "I didn’t put it on the register." Through gritted teeth, she admitted, "To tell you the truth, pretty much everything on there was what Tonya wanted, not me. How is it that everyone else had her figured out?"

     All of the bitterness left Bette as she petted Dana’s hair. "Honey, I know it seems bad now, but you’ll get over it. Someone special will find you."

     Dana smiled ruefully. "I think she already did. I just hope it isn’t too late … "

     She assumed that she was talking about Lara. Bette sighed inwardly: even in her inebriated state, she knew that Dana was holding something back. And that knowledge was yet another reminder of her current status as a social pariah: no one would ask her to help them pick out a paint color, let alone request advice.

     Among their small circle of friends, Dana was everyone’s favorite. Tina had a special affection for Dana because she sympathized with her insecurity and tried to help Dana accept her true feelings. Tina always had the right thing to say, her quiet strength able to allay any fear or uncertainty. Bette knew all of these things because Tina used to do that with her. And no amount of alcohol or cigarettes or meaningless sex could make her forget how badly she wanted her life back – all the familiar and mundane routines that comprised the last seven years of their existence – and Bette discarded it as if it were nothing.

     Even with Dana standing right next to her, Bette had never felt so lonely. She and Tina rarely parted for more than a week or two at a time, and these few months were unbearable. And now the baby … Bette had been so devastated by the news – and to have heard it from Helena-fucking-Peabody – that she didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. Did she have the right to ask?

     Bette reflected briefly on her and Tina’s heritage: both of their parents were left alone, unwillingly saddled with the added responsibility of single parenthood. How cruelly trite is it that we followed their paths? Bette was weary from feeling helpless – she had all but given up on trying to understand her affair or attaining Tina’s forgiveness. She had driven the light of her life away and watched her walk out the door … but Bette wasn’t going to make the same mistake with her child.

     Lost in thought, Bette didn’t notice Dana with her head tilted, studying her oddly; after a moment, she gestured toward the front door.

     "Well, I gotta go. Got another Cuisinart to return."

     She stopped her. "Dana? I have something you could use." Bette opened the freezer: she pulled out a large box and handed it to Dana, who took it and read the label.

     "Steaks?" she asked quizzically.

     For the first time in a long while, Bette felt a semblance of her old self again. A serene smile spread across her face. "Don’t give up: maybe you’ll get meat-tagged soon."

~~~~~