I sat on the chaise opposite Bette’s and watched as she ate. She had offered me some, but I was happy enough to drink my brunch. I’d eaten earlier, anyway; going out was a way to escape what I now was determined to face.

“I’m sorry, about leaving,” I said, finally. “I guess I didn’t want to hear you assigning blame after all these years.”

She stopped eating and looked up at me. “I’m sorry, too.”

“For what you said?” Maybe? Let’s be a little more specific here, please, Bette.

She started shaking her head no. I clenched my fists tighter, but remained seated.

“For what I didn’t say.” Bette set the take-out container aside. “I should have told you what a mistake it was for me, too, to give up so easily.”

“After I pushed.”

Bette rubbed at her empty ring finger.

“You pushed, I let myself be pushed. Face it, Tina, we were both pretty absorbed in our own lives at the time.”

The deep breath that I sucked in and exhaled did nothing to relieve the tension. “I was absorbed with our daughter.”

“I know.”

Well, it’s good to have some level of acknowledgement.

“So absorbed that I felt like a stranger here.”

Back to the revisionist view. “You were the stranger, Bette. You were spending months at a time away from us. She was changing so quickly.”

“And I regret that,” she said, her voice soft.

Then she cleared her throat. “I was working, Tina. For us, for all of us. Something I was unable to do here.”

The way my leg muscles felt, I knew it wouldn’t take much for me to spring from the chair. Maybe that’s what I needed, really. To walk, to move.

I stayed on the chaise.

“Did you try, Bette? Or did you just find it easier to be away from us?”

Now she looked away. “I suppose there was a bit of that, too. If I was going to be feeling alone, it was easier to do that when I truly was alone.”

At least she’s willing to concede that, from her point of view, it wasn’t just me.

Then she gave me the oddest smile.

That made me curious. “What?” It was almost infectious.

“I know this sounds odd.”

Try me, Bette. “But?”

“But, I’m really happy to hear your voice.”

In spite of myself, I couldn’t help but smile.

How could this woman do this? What had it been, about 25 years since we first met? How did that happen, where did that time go.

And still, she’s unable to disarm me with that smile.

I can keep lying that I have no feelings for Bette Porter, but no one has ever believed that lie. Not even me.

I’m conflicted about seeing her, but part of me cannot help but be happy. Still, what does that mean, exactly.

And what does her being here mean for us? For all of us?

“You could have called,” I offered.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to see you, also.”

While it would have been an almost unthinkable concept a few hours before, I actually felt a blush rising on my face. “Bette, what are you doing?”

“Seeing you, Tina, seeing Jess, reminded me that maybe I didn’t do enough towards us.”

She leaned forward, forearms on her knees. “I’m here because we came back together at possibly the worst possible time for both of us. That was when we were both emotional. With Melvin, and the work I had to do to settle his affairs. With Jess. With my job, and trying to ensure a steady income.”

It did seem like more than either of us could handle. All were items that affected both of us, as well as each of us.

“We stopped talking, Tina. That’s what I remember most when I look back. The messages sent through the lawyers, and through Alice, and Shane, and Dana.”

“That was always the easiest,” I agreed.

“There were a lot of things we never discussed, never resolved before we came together.”

Ms. Porter, you do have a gift for understatement.

While I would like to blame our first separation on Bette, I know that there were many things at the root of our troubles. Her cheating was a symptom, but it wasn’t the cause of our demise at that point. Similarly the miscarriage brought to light issues that were already present.

On top of Bette’s infidelity we had our fight, my actions during that still cause me deep shame. We had Bette’s continued affair, even after I moved out. We had my relationship with Helena, and what a head case she turned out to be. We had Bette’s job stress, and eventual firing. This all happened at the time when Bette’s father, a man to whom she was always quite close, a man she held in singular regard, died here in this house.

“We never did,” I agreed.

There was a silence between us, but it was a comfortable one. For the first time in over ten years, we were just sitting. I don’t think either of us had any particular expectations of the other.

We had each seen the other at our worst. We had seen each other at our best. Perhaps now, we could just accept each other for who we each were, not for who we thought we had to be.

“T, at one time, you mentioned wanting to see what happened if we spent more time together.” Bette had a slight grin as she spoke.

I remembered that time. “The awards dinner. I was so nervous to bring up that topic.” My words came out in a rush. At first I think Bette took the idea as an insult, but then it appeared to amuse her.

What I really remember most, though, was the time just before that when we came back together, physically. How easily that mode of communication and connection worked for us.

“We never really did that, though, did we.”

She was right. With Melvin, with the baby, our reunification seemed to jump to the fast track. “No, we didn’t.”

This time the silence held more of an air of expectation. “And now?”

What exactly are you asking me Bette? “Now?”

“Now, if I were to ask you, would you like to see what would happen if we started to spend some time together?”

Sure, Bette, let’s start small. No impediments to that plan. “Well, I might remind you that you live three thousand miles away.”

As she spoke, I could see that air of smug confidence growing in Bette’s eyes. She knew she had me hooked, and she was using her words to play me. “And if that weren’t an issue.”

“If that weren’t an issue?” Dammit Bette, why do you have to play me so well? Why do I so respond?

This reminds me of the time we met ten years ago, when I had a trip to Boston. We spoke of it as a chance to reunite, to reconnect away from Jess.

What it became was four days in bed. Four glorious days, but still, an extended *****-fest was all that it ever was. Our follow-up was minimal, and unsatisfying. From that time we had let things drift fully away. Until last week.

“If that weren’t an issue,” she spoke slowly. She knows that she has me now, “then I would say perhaps we should see what would happen.”

Bette, confident smile and all, leaned forward as if to kiss me. The fact that I stood up and walked a short distance away did nothing to remove the smile from her face.

“But, I have terms this time.” Time to speak before my reserve weakens.

“Yes?”

“This time you really will date me, Ms. Porter.”

“Really, Ms. Kennard?”

She leaned back. Damn, how does she look so good? I swear each day is a struggle for me. The extra workouts, the more sensible choices in clothes and meals. But Bette, her proximity stirs many things.

“We know there are some aspects of our lives where we have most always been compatible.” I could feel that blush rising again. But never mind, this was too important. If Bette wants to play, this time, we’re playing for keeps.

“Lets try to work on the items that aren’t quite so easy.”

“Such as?”

Oh no, Bette, you do not get to play innocent. “You tell me.”

Bette picked at a lint speck on her trouser leg. “You mean it’s finally time to communicate.”

That would be a primary issue. “I concur.”

“And I’ve got the distinct impression, Ms. Kennard,” she drew out the ‘Ms.,’ somewhat like Melvin used to do when he was goading her, “that I’ve got some work to do to be accepted by your daughter.”

My daughter? Interesting. Not our daughter this time.

I was so lost in the moment I had, for the briefest of instants, forgotten Jess’s unexplained moods. She could be edgy enough when I started any relationship. Given her current state, how would she feel if the woman that I was seeing was Bette?

“That’s something we should discuss.”

(tbc)

(Is this getting boring and predictable? You guys would tell me, right?)