“Bette! Hey, glad you came.”

“I couldn’t let my friends down, could I?”

Jenny walks towards them and greets Bette wholeheartedly.

“I’m so happy to see you Bette. It’s been so long since you’ve smiled.”

Bette hugs Jenny and the three disperse among the crowd. Alice and Dana have staked out a cozy little couch in the corner, and have been making out for five minutes straight, with two minute intervals. Faces pass by, here and there. Finally, Jenny’s ‘cute girl’ from school arrives. She’s dressed like a Don Juan, chocolate brown button down shirt with a stiff collar, her hair short and styled, Khaki colored slacks accentuating her masculine yet still feminine waist and hips. Her black dress shoes sparkle and shine. But the best thing of all is the innocent smile plastered across her nervous face. She knocks on the door, and Jenny comes to her rescue.

“Hi there.”

(Jenny) “Casey, I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Shane and Bette notice Casey enter the room, and slowly drift towards the door.

“Casey, these are my dear friends, Bette and Shane.”

They say their how do you do’s. Shane leans into Bette’s ear and whispers.

“Definitely her ‘type.’”

Bette whispers back, “definitely.”

The night rolls on. A few people leave, a few start to wind down, finding places on the couches or the floor. The music has slowed and everyone is laid back. Bette is in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of vodka. Casey, looking for more alcohol herself, finds herself in the kitchen as well. Bette turns around to face her, and lifts up the bottle as an offering.

“Thanks, just what I was looking for.”

“So, (Bette) Jenny tells us you are a great writer.”

“Really? She’s too kind.”

“What kinds of things do you like to write about?”

“Well, I just finished a story about these two kids, one a boy and one a girl, who run away from their hometown to get away from their parents. They end up in Hollywood, shooting up crystal meth and ***** strangers off of the street. Eventually one goes back to their home up north, and the other deals with being homeless and tries to make friends in an otherwise very cruel world.”

“That’s heavy. Where did you get the idea for the story?”

“It’s about me, really. Me and a friend. We ran away, we became addicts, we fucked a lot of strangers. Thankfully, I’m still alive to tell about it. I’m sorry for being so blunt. It was rude.”

“No, no. I’m glad you told me. It means you’re brave. It is a very, very good thing that you are still alive. Here, let me pour you a glass.”

Bette pours Casey a glass of vodka, then sets down the bottle onto the counter top. Casey has taken a few steps closer to Bette to allow her to pour her drink, and lingers there, close to her. She stares at her face. It reminds her of someone she knew. Someone she still knows, but isn’t around anymore. It makes her look deeper.

“What? What is it? Is something wrong?”

“You” Casey lifts her hand to Bette’s cheek, letting it fall gently across her soft skin. “You look just like my mother.”

Bette stands still, and Casey’s hand finally falls back to her side.

“I am so sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’mI think I should go.”

Casey leaves the kitchen and joins up with Jenny and the rest of the guests in the living room. Bette is left standing alone in the kitchen, her glass of vodka in one hand, the other resting on the counter top. She isn’t quite sure what has just happened. All she knows, is that she feels for her. For the girl. She could feel her pain in her eyes’ reflection. It makes her think of her own mother, and about how much she still misses her. And that she’ll never stop. A few tears dribble down her chin, and she raises her glass above her head. In a small, soft voice, she makes herself a toast.

“To you. May you find happiness and peace, and may you never forget me.”