So prosaic I know. I should have made an attempt to be more creative than that with my excuse.

It was however, not entirely untrue. I was tired. The stress of what transpired between Bette and myself and everything unresolved continued to gnaw at me, my work filled with empathy for the children fulfilling yet draining, the constant well meaning glances from our friends, and my mental inability to reconcile my thoughts to the infidelity, all this was exhausting.

For the most part though, my request related to the reality that I didn’t want to go back to her house – gorgeous as it was based on what I’d seen during a cursory visit, this late into the night. It would mean taking a step toward the inevitable. “Not yet,” I think to myself.

Believe me I’ve been thinking about it. Helena was beautiful and we had parallel interests in the Center’s success. Selfishly, I wanted this lovely woman to want me. Pathetic as it sounded I needed some assurance that I was still desirable. That someone wanted me physically. That I could in turn, please someone.

Still, after all that’s been said and done, I can’t bring myself to that next plateau yet. “Not yet,” I reiterate inwardly. It’s no secret Bette was with other women before me and of course the carpenter recently. For me, I can’t help but think perhaps it’s because she was my ‘only’ that I’m deferring the physical relationship with Helena.

My connection to her would be marred forever upon taking that course. Bette’s and mine I mean, our unique physical closeness gone forever. Severed by my being with another – she no longer being my sole female lover.

It’s not necessarily fair I have this feeling to contend with above everything else. Then again, nothing about this is fair.

Helena agreed to return me safely to Alice’s with an acknowledging smile. She knows about Bette and understands it seems. That makes me admire her even more. Her patience indicative of having dealt with past breakups herself I’m sure. Maybe with her by my side I’ll be able to move forward.

Buoyed by the relaxing evening, I work my way up the steps with enthusiasm to what has been one of my homes for many months now. Sadly, I’m reminded of the night I wearily took the same steps and found myself on Alice’s couch. Of all our friends I went to her then perhaps because she would best relate to my loss or provide insight into why Bette had the affair. They were together after all, friends before and after being a couple. Thank goodness for Alice. Tonight I was looking forward to her humor that was usually a comfort to me.

Tonight Alice’s exuberance and humor were missing, at the very least tempered with having to relay a message to me. It’s been quite some time since she last tried to contact me.

“Bette called, she asked if you would please call her. She said it was important. Please she said.”