“His sister, huh? That is complicated.” he said, not missing a beat. He continued to walk, while I struggled to keep up. Suddenly this tiny bags got heavier and I knew that I had entered the twilight zone. He continued to walk ahead of me, but not before he yelled back: “Don’t dawdle girlie. I want to get my luggage.”

“So do you love her or him?” he asked while we continued our way through the airport.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Well judging by the way that you flipped him the bird, I’m guessing that you two have a comfortable arrangement, but not much else.”

“It’s com…”

“Complicated. I know. So if you don’t love him, do you love her?” Wait a minute I thought we were talking about him. How did this get turned on me? And…hey why is he staring at me like that?

“Tina?”

“Yes?” I say breaking from my inner dialogue.

“Do you always drift off when someone asks you a question? Why can’t you just answer a question without all the analyzing?” I couldn’t answer him immediately. Instead I just walked ahead. Well I tried, but I couldn’t because for the second time today someone grabbed me by the arm.

“If you can’t answer that loaded question, then why don’t you tell me about her.” He added with a sincere voice. What the hell. Why not? How often am I gonna get the chance to talk about how I feel about Bette without someone judging me?

“Well,” I begin while we resume our walk. ” She’s a gallerist at an art museum here in the city. I met her the same night I met Eric, that’s her brother.”

“Ok so, what about her? What drew you to her?”

“At first it was her eyes. You see when we first met, I couldn’t stand her. But her eyes.” I take a moment to go back into my head. To memorize what has always been at the forefront of my thoughts. Before I know what I’m saying, I’m telling Derrick my life with Bette.

“They told me everything. When she was disappointed. How excited she was when I told her I loved her, when we made love. She just is so fucking luminous. I mean she walks into a room and all the eyes go to her, without her saying a fucking word. And when she speaks my heart does sing. Because it’s like she was given this sensual voice just for my ears. I mean I have never, ever reacted so carelessly for someone because of their voice. But she just… she….” and just as soon as I realized all the things I described to an old man, I also began to remember that all that I had thrown away because I was afraid of my family. And I want to be here? To what? Pine away for Bette? Beg her forgiveness? Make her understand that I love her and we should be together again?