Tina stuffed her notebook back into her bag, irritated that she was going to be late for her lunch date with Bette. Well, it wasn’t really a lunch date, as neither she nor Bette had planned or agreed to it. But Tina believed in spontaneity so she was going to surprise Bette at the Pacific Design Center. She’d called James earlier and confirmed that Bette was scheduled to visit the MOCA there. Tina smiled as she recalled that morning. For the first time in a long while, Bette had been relaxed and seemed happy. The thought of Bette being unhappy weighed heavy in Tina’s heart. Somehow she just knew that it had something to do with them. Tina was determined that no matter how tired she was from work or school, she was going to put in the extra effort to bring them back to the comfort and joy of their earlier times. Their second anniversary was coming up, and Tina felt equal parts excitement and dread of what the next year with her beloved will bring.

"Maybe we’ll get a dog," she mused as she buckled her seatbelt. A minor adjustment to the rearview mirror and she was off, humming softly to the song on the radio. Traffic was surprisingly not too bad, and she got the the Center with ten minutes to spare. She decided to wait for Bette inside the museum, sure that it wouldn’t be too hard to find her. After all, how large could the MOCA be?

Thirty minutes later, Tina had her answer. Very large. Three thousand square feet large. With too many showrooms and exhibit areas. Tina’s feet throbbed with every step she took on the slippery marble floor. She’d tried to call Bette’s cellphone twenty minutes earlier, but was pissed that her call went to voicemail.

"This is impossible. Either I missed her or she’s suddenly turned invisible!" Tina fumed silently. She just knew that her feet would not be forgiving her any time soon. She cursed her inner vixen for convincing her to wear four-inch heels paired with a short red dress. Why couldn’t I have listened to that other voice, the one that told me to wear sneakers and cut-offs?

Sneakers and cut-offs to MOCA? Are you fucking insane? It’s a place of art, not the neighborhood YMCA. Besides, you want Bette to remember the early times, before you started worrying about your textbooks more than your looks.