A minute passed. “Tell me more about that,” Tina whispered, afraid to push too hard but also a little afraid of what Bette might say. She said it softly, kindly and hoped it would be enough to get Bette talking. Nothing she had tried before had ever worked.

Bette sighed heavily. She put her head back on Tina’s chest, listening to the fixed heartbeat of her wife. Steady, constant, reliable. So much time went by that Tina thought the moment had passed when Bette spoke again, a little louder so that Tina could hear her, her voice a little muffled by Tina’s shirt. Her hand reached for Tina’s, but her head stayed where it was. It was easier for her to start that way.

“When I was little my father wanted answers quickly, he didn’t have a whole lot of patience for little girls who struggled to tell him why they were crying or upset. I stumbled over my words then too and cried easily. I was too sensitive he would tell me, too fragile. Porters are strong, Porters don’t cry. Most of the time the best answer to give him was “nothing” so that he would not get more upset if it took too long for me to tell him the truth. Not crying worked too, holding it in so he couldn’t see that I was crying inside. I learned to hold the tears in until I could make it to my room but even then, I had to make sure he didn’t hear me. Such foolishness he would say in a deep voice”.

“It was easy when I was upset over stuff that happened at school or with my friends. I could handle that. I could isolate myself in my books or my piano, my dancing. But with Mama… I could never tell him that sometimes Mama was too quiet… when she was quiet…” Bette stopped. Tina swallowed, holding her breath for Bette to continue. Bette turned her face into Tina’s chest and took a deep breath. She made a decision.

“Tee, her leaving made me feel so…empty and numb inside”. Softly spoken, the yearning unmistakable.