"It doesn’t have to be perfect" she soothed. "A point of conversation?" 

After Bette’s lecture a few weeks back claiming the need for Tina to acknowledge their being a couple, this instant allowed the use of the word of choice.  By then, practiced to perfection, "It just has to be ours."  She smiled to ease her partner’s frustration. 

–

So here it stood still. 

Her eyes traced the line that margined the stained wood.  Upon reaching the point where the pursuit started, she looked up to stare at Tina intently.  In remembering she acknowledged that was yesterday.  As a couple they were but a memory.  ‘Our’ no longer at her leisure to claim.

The morning had just started yet a weariness of profound measure settled its demands on her mind.  Her spirit.

Bette sighed heavily.  "Then again, if I knew where we’d be soon after, I wouldn’t have ignored the attempt."   Certainly she wouldn’t take that reserved time for sharing for granted now.  Bette contemplated silently. ‘The need to remind myself to be inclusive toward my partner of both worries and dreams.’

"I didn’t approach it as you did with an open mind.  Instead I focused on fucking Yolanda.  And of course everything at work was always more important.  More in need of my…immediate attention."  She paused then ended cheerlessly,  "My time." 

Even in the everyday, beyond the therapy sessions her occupation was always present.  Would Tina view this as the first excuse?  Work.  Perhaps more detail would help.

"When I closed my gallery to take the position at the CAC, I felt it would bold well for us."  As a couple, and for their planned family.

They had agreed, Bette recalled.

"More stability.  Better hours."  She let out a sober laugh.  "I thought."  Her face turned left, a lifeless gaze focusing on the shades that had been let down half way. 

"I know how important your job is to you Bette."  Tina said softly.  "Naturally, it was for me too." 

The darker skinned woman dismissed the tolerant viewpoint with a shrug.  "I was so busy making sure everything was running smoothly there that the fact it took just as much effort to maintain a healthy relationship went by unnoticed."  Burying herself in art.  Her passion.  A world that in many ways sustained isolated reflection while supporting them in practical terms.

"I just wanted to take care of our finances."  A lengthy audible breath was let out.  Followed by whispered words marked with feeling, and regret. 

"Of you."

"Then…then we drifted apart."  Indeed they had.  Not overnight.  Slowly the space between them was amplified by their inability to connect.  Soon, arguments and silence were taken as a matter of course.  Becoming part of their relationship landscape.  Becoming arguably, normal.

The slight grimace didn’t go unnoticed.  Expectations of self were brimming to the surface. 

"It wasn’t just you."  Tina interceded the contemplation. 

They had agreed, the blonde remembered.

"You were to support us financially while I took care of things at home."  She wasn’t quite ready to reference the family they wanted.  The child they lost.  The life that was, then wasn’t.

Yes, they had agreed. Yet…"It wasn’t our best decision." Tina confirmed.

She’d felt, inadequate.  To some extent attributable to how much Bette identified with her work.  Almost feeling unremarkable because evidence of accomplishment was then limited to a clean home.  Dry cleaning neatly stowed.  Stocked shelves.  Dinner warm on the stove.  Polished floors.  Laundry washed, pressed and folded.  Plants watered.  Coupons clipped.  Household chores attended to. 

Waiting for Bette.  To live vicariously through her workday.  To allow her to vent.  To stay silent while her self-confidence ebbed.  For that, by and large there was no one to blame but herself.

"Look at me," she urged. 

Tina called Bette’s name.  To pull her back.  From the self-recrimination she knew was fiercely brewing within.  The willingness to confirm ownership.  Taking fault…at times to a fault. 

When eyes met she held their gaze.  Again Tina stated simply.  "It wasn’t just you."