Inevitably, the conversation shifted to more personal matters steered by my inquiry as to her current involvement.  Mutual juvenile giggling and teasing followed, given her at times self-deprecating take on romance.  Then of course, her eventual mention of Helena.  A topic that ushered the change in mood. 

No one knew as of yet although some time had already passed.  She would be the first.

There they were again.  The scenes.  Some in motion, others frozen.  Like static flashbacks.  Static and unrelenting.  And in the stillness of the memories they felt so real. The scenes and images impressing upon the background of darkness that resulted from closed lids.  The same apparitions that filled my mind even while eyes were open and focused elsewhere. 

 â€œIt doesn’t matter where I am. Or who I’m with.” I’d blurted out suddenly.  ”It’s just…the scenes keep playing in my head.”

Kit was confused at first.  She looked at me oddly yet I persisted. 

Pausing, I took a cleansing breath.  Letting it out slowly I continued.  Releasing the pent up emotion that had become my constant companion.

A pensive quiet took over our earlier easy dialogue.  Until my confession prevailed upon Kit to opine upon. 

“And the images become so real.” I confessed out loud.

By then, even though remembrances processed remained only in my mind she knew exactly what I was talking about.  Who it was that kept my thoughts. “She’s there.” 

In the present, I confirm gratuitously.  “Bette is always there.”

“And Helena?” Kit asked gently.  A rhetorical question – as I’m sure she already knew.

Mutedly I confirmed, “I ended it.”

—

“There’s no easy way to say this.”  I started slowly. 

Sighing in acceptance Helena answered evenly, “I can’t say this takes me by surprise.”  Reaching for her glass, she swirled the red liquid before taking a sip.  Blinking deliberately, she took another before setting it back down on the patterned tablecloth. 

“I thought we were progressing nicely.”  Her voice was warm.  There was a hint of expectation.  A trace of hurt. Wrapped in an understanding of what our relationship had been. 

“Tina, I knew there was a part of you I couldn’t touch. We were ‘together’ but not quite…” she stopped to find the right word “…entirely.”