I keep working through my remaining time trying to have some progress but my mind is not here again. I remember that I wanted to buy flowers on my way home and apologize to Tina for the way I talked with her this morning and maybe try to reconnect with her. I dial our home number. After the fourth buzz she picks up.

”Hello”

”Tina, hey… It’s Bette.” I blurt out suddenly not confident in myself.

”I know” She replies sullenly.

”Right, caller ID” Why am I saying this? ”How are you doing?” I ask from nowhere.

”I’m fine, I guess” And then there is the silence.

I swallow and say ”Tina, I wanted to apologize. I hope everything is okay between us” Great, Porter. What a way to ask for forgiveness.

She audibly sighs ”It’s all good, Bette”

I bet it’s not. I fucked up even in apologizing. I want to tell her everything in a proper way, but it’s not gonna happen on the phone. She cuts my thought off ”Is there anything else you want to say, Bette?”

Yes! I love you! Forgive my mean ass! ”Yeah… Um, I.. Well, there is a friend of mine… It’s Annie. Do you remember Annie?” I stammer and silently scold myself.

”The gallerist from New-York?”

”Yes. So she is in town and I’m going to go out with her tonight” I say and it sounded not so good to my ears.

The other line is silent and I am being an asshole again apparently. ”Are you okay with it?” I try to smooth over the situation.

”Yeah. Go have fun. I’ll be fine. Uh, I should go, talk to you later. Bye” And she hung up.

I stare at the phone for a moment and then lean my forehead against it in defeat. How I wish you were with me tonight.

Tina Kennard

Today was pretty much like yesterday. Kit dropped by in the afternoon trying to cheer me up while I was packing baby’s things into the box. I was crying softly from time to time, feeling already out of tears, but they just kept falling. Bette did nothing to ease them, actually, on the contrary, she only added them. Her demeanor this morning was nothing but her temper running ahead of her. It happens. Her mouth seems to be living its own life sometimes. I think she herself wonders how I still manage to put up with it. And then she apologises. When she called me today to do it, everything came out just wrong. The news about her going out tonight upset me. I wanted to talk with her. I miss her. She is always working. When Dr. Wilson told me about the miscarriage, she was working too. It’s no use to discuss it with her. She understands, I think, but can’t help herself. Workaholic she is. And I wonder how long am I going to tolerate this.