Jodie had spent most of the day working on her sketches joining them only for a short while to cool off in the pool.  They did however sit and have dinner together.  Although Bette had made good progress on not overstepping the boundaries of trying to interpret for Jodie when they were in adult company she did struggle not to provide Angie with a running commentary of everything Jodie signed.   It was an issue that they had not really discussed as they actually didn’t spend all that much time together.  Jodie tried to time her weekend visits so she was in town the weekend Tina had Angelica.  Perhaps this was not the healthiest way to carry on as surely at some point they would be living together full time and they were allowing themselves off the hook in many ways.  For the moment though it suited both women and so they avoided discussing it.  Unbeknownst to the other however the integration of the three of them together as a unit of some kind was something which often played on both their minds.  The conclusions they each came to however were entirely different.

On returning to the kitchen having put Angelica down for the night, Bette was greeted with a smiling Jodie offering her a large glass of red wine.  She gratefully accepted it and they went to sit on the couch.    After the emotional drain of this morning Bette desperately wanted to spend her evening talking to Jodie while safely cocooned in her arms. As she realised the impossibility of this wish, Bette sighed regretfully and was immediately filled with a feeling of guilt.  On the few occasions that Jodie’s deafness had become something Bette felt even the slightest bit resentful of she was immediately consumed by guilt.  As frustrating as certain things might be for Bette they were surely much worse for the artist.

Bette was startled by Jodie’s index finger gently lifting her chin to meet her eyes which were emanating concern. “What’s wrong?” she asked.  The emotion of the morning which she had kept in check during her day with her daughter suddenly washed over Bette and she could no longer hold it in.  With tears threatening to fall she put her wine glass on the table and hurriedly signed “This morning was wonderful and awful all at the same time.  Alice wanted us to meet because she had a box from Dana” Bette suddenly hesitated unsure whether Jodie remembered who Dana was.  They had talked about her but she wasn’t sure if she’d remember her name.  That realisation alone of the possibility that Jodie might not even know who she was talking about ensured Bette lost all desire to discuss this in any depth with Jodie.

“I remember.  You told me about her.  She died from breast cancer right?” Jodie answered in response to the hesitance. 

“Yeah, well anyway she left some letters and things for us which we didn’t get until now – long story-and I wanted to sit here and tell you about it but I wanted to do it wrapped in the comfort of your arms and then I realised that we can’t because you won’t be able to see what I’m saying and now I feel overwhelmed with guilt for even thinking that.”  As Bette finished signing her gaze was rooted to the floor, embarrassed to even be thinking so selfishly let alone sharing it with Jodie.

Bette sensed the artist moving closer to her and then felt her arms encircle her waist. “You’re right, we can’t do both at the same time but we can still do both.  Which is more important right now to talk or to lie here in my arms? ” Jodie asked compassionately.

Bette answered the question with a kiss relieved at not having to discuss this with Jodie, yet pleased to accept the physical comfort she could offer.  The remainder of the evening was spent in each other arms before they withdrew to the bedroom.  Later, as Bette lay next to a sleeping Jodie she once again allowed the nagging question that had been playing on her mind for some time now to return once again.  For how long could they sustain a relationship in which the only real intimacy they shared was physical?