Bette. Hit. The. Roof.

“Why is there such a difference?” Helena asked. “Cheating is cheating, you both seem rather chronic on that issue.” She could not understand why Bette and Tina still had so little tolerance for one another’s quirks, after all these years. 

Her honesty was rewarded with a giant hissy fit, involving a bottle of extremely expensive wine and Helena’s vintage Chanel skirt.  They were in Helena’s London flat, which was actually six two-bedroom flats that had had many walls and fixtures torn out and numerous fun things installed throughout it. Helena was supposed to be introducing Bette to a bunch of European art world titans that night, as a favor, but instead, she threw the fuming American out into the streets until she bloody well calmed down. 

Bette returned from England to find that Tina had not moved out.  This surprised her.  It also confused her. So she left, walked to Alice’s, and installed herself in Alice’s guestroom.

“Ummmm…Bette?” On the fifth day of Bette’s sleep-in, Alice prodded her gently on the shoulder.  She held out a steaming cup of coffee, made Americano style just the way Bette drank it these days. “Hey, uhhh…” Alice paused, sweeping a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Maybe we can go to yoga?”

Bette showed a bit of interest at the suggestion, so Alice led her to the shower, remembering how she had been when her and Dana’s relationship was tossed aside as easily as Bette and Tina’s now was.

They went to yoga almost every day after that.  Once Bette found herself again, through all that deep breathing, she couldn’t stop trying to find herself.

“Not that damned ‘Thoughts without a Thinker’ book,” Tina awoke one morning, after she and Bette had had another round of hot make-up-maybe-we’ll-get-back-together sex for the third time that month, to find that Bette was reading those books again.  “White dude Buddhists.” Tina laughed before rolling over and pulling Bette close. “Relax dear, it’ll all come out fine in the end…”

It would, but not for another year—at least not for them. Why the Bette and Tina saga had to drag on for that extra year before they found themselves again, no one could say. 

Helena said ‘it’ll all be ok,’ even after her own failed relationship with Dylan (yet again) left her in an uncharacteristic state of bitterness.

Alice helped Bette to re-arrange and re-decorate her house.

Two weeks later, Alice and Bette stood in a remote corner of town.  The night seemed oddly silent, all pale blues and purples, as they watched the taillights disappear on the Porsche that Tina drove out of LA. She preferred European cars these days—especially ones that cost her an arm and a leg and announced her newfound status as an elite executive. 

Angelica went with Tina, much to Bette’s alarm.

Helena swept back into town when she heard the news from Alice, who sent her a short text on the matter. It took all of half an hour for Helena to arrange her flight, but much longer to actually fly.  When she arrived at Alice’s, Bette answered the door.

“I’m sorry I ruined your skirt.” Bette said shakily, already tearful upon opening the door.

Helena muttered something that sounded like ‘need sleep’ and ‘old skirt anyway’ before hugging her friend.  She slept for three hours on the couch while Alice and Bette made dinner.