Bette: Hello?

Voice: Where’ve you been Porter???? It’s been nearly 12 hours since you’ve been back and I still have no missed calls from you.  I feel so neglected. I feel so unimportant I

Bette: (smiles and sighs aloud) Hi Alice, I was going to call you, but

Alice: Yeah yeah, no excuses Porter, so tell me how was L.A., did you get any?

Bette: Alice, is ***** all you ever think about, I mean I went for business I had to keep myself professional.

Alice: Ohh bullshit Porter, are you telling me that you didn’t go after any hotties in L.A., c’mon besides New York, it’s the ***** dreamland, a brunette here, a red-head there and someone who has a friend who’s willing to do almost anything.

Bette: Alice you really need to get out more and for your information, I did go to one of the bars, but I just didn’t feel like picking anyone up.  The atmosphere didn’t seem right.

Alice: Oh I get it, that’s Porter talk for, I had the dream again and I couldn’t make myself put another notch in the old belt.

Bette just stared at the phone: Am I that transparent? I had it again last night; it seems to be occurring a lot more frequently Alice the entire time I couldn’t see her face.  I know how she feels, how she smells, I can even remember the sound of her voice, but I never see her face.  I don’t know how much more I can take.

Alice: You know what I think, I think you’re getting old and you need to find someone to settle down with. I mean how long can you keep suckering those young trinkets to your bed and then break their hearts?

Bette: Hey! I don’t do that; I care about some of them.

Alice: Bette Porter, you haven’t had a steady girlfriend since well, since me actually. I know I’m difficult to get over, but you need to put aside those feelings and move on.

Bette just smirked at Alice’s comments, but while Alice continued babbling on about a new girl she met while Bette was away, Bette considered her friend’s point. Alice really was the last true girlfriend Bette had; she’s always been a bit of a player.  Bette knew she and Alice were better friends than they would ever be as a couple, but maybe Alice was the blond she kept seeing in her dream.  Bette shook her head and knew it wasn’t true, but she continued to wonder why she managed to stay uncommitted for so long.

Alice: So what’d ya think Porter?  Drinks tonight and meet my new honey bunny?

Bette: Huh? Oh, Alice, um, no I can’t I’m too tired Al I need to get some rest.

Alice: Bettttte, C’mon, you never hang out anymore and we haven’t seen you in soooo long and you need to make up for not calling me or for not getting any in L.A. so I could write about it in my column. Please Pleassssseeeee.. Please

Bette: Errgg, alright alright, I’ll come, but I’m leaving early Al, I need to be in my bed by 11pm! Promise?

Alice: (very excited) Sure, Sure anything you say Porter, okay drinks tonight at Eugenes. Ohh I can’t wait. Later.

As Bette hung up the phone she reflected on her last week in California.  Bette never needed to do too much to get people to see her vision; she was one of the best curators in the country.  She was born so smooth that all her success came easily. Her general intelligence got her a nice spot in the top 3% of her class in Yale, but her love for art made her the best choice for the curator position at all the finest art museums around the country.  Born in Philadelphia, she knew that New York would be her home so after Yale, she quickly secured a position at the Guggenheim.  Some years later, she moved to the MOMA offices where she rapidly climbed the corporate ladder becoming one of its youngest curators.  At 27, Bette was not only highly successful in the art world, but she also learned to use her connections to invest in some of the best stock options available at the time. Bette became another one of Manhattan’s self-made millionaires under 30.  However, just like many busy members of New York City culture, success did not equal happiness.  Bette was financially secure, she had wonderful friends, but the emptiness she felt since childhood never disappeared. Bette realized the only time she could suppress that empty sensation was at night when she dreamed of her faceless angel.  The woman who made her have feelings of  security and love.