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She came to slowly … drifting between a tired, dense sleep and some awareness of being in a bed. Her body was covered in sweat. Her eyes still shut, she could hear the faint noise of a shower running. Who was taking a shower? She didn’t dare open her eyes. She couldn’t, even if she wanted, for her eyelids were so heavy … as if she was paralyzed … or drunk. Loss was all she could feel. Loss and pain. Pain and loss. It had become her fate. Her rollercoaster of a life.
She lost. She lost so much. She lost her wife, the love of her life. She lost her sister. She lost her family. She lost her election. Bette Porter lost it all. And she was left with … nothing. Nothing but pity for herself. Nothing but a bed in a dark room. Where was she?
With effort, she forced herself to open her eyes. Dark. The room was still dark … but she could distinguish a few shapes. She was in a bed, on the left side of a king size bed. She turned to the right. It was empty but for a pillow. Someone had been there … the right portion of the down comforter that also covered her was tossed to the side. Who? Maybe the same person who was taking that shower. A stranger. She touched the pillow. It didn’t matter. The only person who mattered was not there. She lost her. She lost it all.
She brought her right hand to her head. It was spinning. She realized that she had a headache. Not just her head, her body ached … and her lips were dry. Water … water dripping in that shower. She needed water … Thirst was yet another realization she had.
The shower ended and the room went silent. Silent and dark. But the silence was loud … for she could now hear the noises within her head. She could hear her head pounding … her own blood running … boiling … and the noise was deafening. It didn’t matter. Whatever she was feeling, she deserved it. The nightmare that her life had become was a tragedy of her own making.
The bathroom door opened and bright sunlight invaded the room, invaded her eyes, blinding her. She could distinguish the shape of a woman wrapped in a towel crossing the door into the bedroom. Who was she? Jesus, she didn’t want to know! And she shut her eyes again.