Ch. 3

               For Helena to observe Bette in an environment where there were no interruptions, like her apartment, was rather revealing. This evening her company seemed reserved and yet willing to engage herself in the activity of making dinner, though the assertive English woman knew that Bette’s silence was more than just because her child had been taken. Helena found that not much needed to be said in order to communicate with the stoic woman close at her side. And so the two moved around the kitchen as though they were doing an intricate dance, Bette followed Helena’s every instruction and spoke only to ask if she was doing her task properly.

               Meanwhile, the tan woman focused on trying to figure why the Brit had extended the invitation in the first place. She was utterly confounded. It took mere moments after entering the kitchen for Bette to find an apron, not willing to get much on her clothes in the cooking process, and asked what needed to be done. Interested to see how Peggy’s daughter handled herself in front of a stove, the dean busied herself with cutting some vegetables and when she’d turn away Bette would cast a sideways glance to study the younger woman. The discomfort Bette had been feeling slowly dissipated as the minutes passed and Helena still hadn’t revealed herself to be the woman she once knew. The dark skinned woman was well aware that she was holding onto a grudge that may have been long since forgotten by the rest of her friends yet she still couldn’t quite push the sinking feeling that the ugliness in her still hadn’t been reprogrammed. Remembering how she and Tina had fallen apart and how Helena, with her manipulative actions and her cutting words, did everything in her power to ensure their separation made Bette’s anger flare. Was it possible that Helena had changed her attitude? Was the once home wrecker truly trying to be a person that she could respect?

               “Now I’ll just grab these shrimp here…,” Helena thought aloud while carefully pouring her sizzling pan of shrimp over the pasta and her help cut the last of the purple onion for their salads. “And we’re done, ay?”