Bette Porter

Swirling on my chair in the office of the California Art Center, I understand that there is no space in my mind for work today. A stack of papers lies on my desk, James brought it to me a couple of hours ago, maybe more. Excel document with the work of art’s shipping schedule on my laptop screen stares at me and waits patiently for the further filling. Franklin would have been furious to learn that I twiddle my thumbs at the workplace, when Provocations left one and the half month. The weather outside matches my mood. Gloomy sky covered with gray clouds, the sun’s rays do not squeeze through them. It’s going to rain.

Yesterday we learned that Tina had a miscarriage. She was on the fourth month of pregnancy. During this time we managed to arrange a room for our future baby. I bought various things, ranging from diapers to powdering and ending with toys. I get up from my chair to go to the window and at the same time I think, where we are going to put all this stuff. Our attic was not being visited for years. I have no clue about its condition, but it doesn’t matter. We have Sonya for this. Sonya … How much she’d seen over the years. Our loyal maid. And then I realize that I don’t really know her as a person. From time to time Tina tells me about their brief conversation, but I usually don’t pay attention to such things.

I look out the window and try to imagine what Tina is doing now. Probably preparing dinner, which I usually skip because I’m swamped at work. Or she is reading a book. As always her favorite Paulo Coelho. Never did I understood what she finds in his silly stories. Or perhaps she is still in bed. Tina never rests up that long though. My thoughts were cut off by a knock on the door.

”Bette? Alice on the second line”  My assistant James informed me and, without waiting for my answer, disappeared.

Sighing, I pick up the phone ”I am listening, Al”

”Hey Porter, we’re going to have lunch at the Planet. I called Tina, but she didn’t answer. You need to bring your ass here in 20 minutes”