When It All Became 8


“You did it.”

The voice came from the darkened living room.

“You went out with that Helena Peabody while you’re living in our home.”

It wasn’t the accusation but the tone that signaled just what mood Bette was in. That, and from the slight slur, Tina was certain that she had been drinking all throughout the party.

Not wanting to have this discussion, but also not wanting to hear the words, Tina continued towards the guest room.

Bette caught her outside the door, placing an arm over the jam and blocking her from entering. “You can’t want her. You’re living here.”

Tina felt Bette’s breath on the back of her neck, and the warmth of Bette’s body. She turned, and found herself looking into cold brown eyes. She tried to squeeze back against the wall but couldn’t help but brush her belly against Bette as she moved.

“I’m staying here.” Tina hoped that she sounded neutral, attempting to keep both fear and anger from her words. “I’ll be moving out as soon as I can.”

Bette winced. “For her? Is that why you want to be out of our home?”

“Bette, please, I want to go to sleep.”

As Bette’s eyes travel up and down Tina’s body, her free hand tentatively reached out towards Tina’s abdomen, fingers remaining inches away. “Our baby,” she whispered.

Tina pushed the hand away. “My baby, Bette. There is no ‘our.’”

Bette’s eyes narrowed. She slammed her other hand against the wall, trapping Tina between her arms. “Our baby, Tina. That’s our baby.”

“You made it clear what you wanted when you went sneaking around, Bette.”

“I never said I didn’t want our family, Tina.”

“Not with words.” Tina could feel tears coming to her eyes. She knew that this was not what she wanted. She didn’t even think this was what Bette really wanted. But she’d be damned if she was going to be made the villain in all of this.

Bette remained anchored in place.

“How many others, Bette. How many were there.”

The gesture was subtle. Bette’s flinch barely registered. As well as Tina knew Bette, it was not something she could miss.

“And you accuse me, when I’ve done nothing. Yet.” Tina bit off the last word.

She was unprepared as Bette moved in. Suddenly, Bette’s mouth was over hers. Bette’s body, pressing closer.

Tina turned her head away and tried to push Bette back, but the other woman would not be moved. “No,” she wimpered. “No.”

Bette, undeterred, grabbed one of Tina’s hands and lifted it over her head, pinning it against the wall. Tina was pushing with the other hand, but Bette clenched the door jam and wouldn’t be moved. She could feel more of Bette pressing against her, pressing against the baby.

In an instant, it all flashed back. That night. The fight. Tina knew she what demons she had unleashed in herself. She couldn’t do that again. Not now. Not with the baby.

Tina submitted.

She slumped back against the wall, and let Bette paw at her. She dropped her free arm, and stopped fighting with the other. She let Bette force her tongue into her mouth, but refused to return the kiss.

Tears ran down her face as Bette continued, her mouth on Tina’s neck, shoulders. When Bette fondled her breast she tried not to react to the touch against the sensitive nipples. And then Bette’s hand moved lower, onto the swell of the abdomen. “I love you, T.”

And it all stopped.

Bette pulled back. Tina didn’t care. She didn’t want to look into Bette’s face. She didn’t want to see who this woman was, because she was certain that it was not the woman she loved.

As Bette stepped away, Tina let herself slide onto the floor. Her tears were coming in great sobs. She rolled to her side, and curled up as tightly as she could.

Tina could feel someone touching her, but she didn’t care. The sounds were tender, but the words didn’t make sense. Bette helped her to her feet and guided her into the bed. There, she resumed the position, lying on her side, curled up as much as her current state would allow.

Someone was there, and not there. Someone wiped her face, removed her shoes. She remained in the dress from the party.

To Tina, it didn’t matter. After tonight, it didn’t matter.

Perhaps no one could ever love her like Bette, but no one could ever hurt her so completely, either.

The memory of that night, the night of Provocations, was again a raw wound. The tears could not wash it away.

Someone was in the room, sitting beside her bed. She knew it was Bette. She was too numb, too tired, to care.

As Tina fell into an uneasy sleep she wondered. Was this night when it all became over?

(the end)