Tina turned the ignition key and pushed a CD into the slot in the dash. She pushed her sunglasses up her nose, looked in the rear view mirror and pulled the car away from the curb. She cranked up the volume sending the music ricocheting inside the car. Then she ejected the CD and threw it into the back seat.

“Goddamn her,” she thought as the CD that Bette had made for her bounced to the floor board. Tina drove in silence, aware of her growing cotton-mouth and her accelerated heartbeat. She strangled the steering wheel with enough force to cause he hands to shake, her breathing becoming more and more shallow, and her throat began to constrict.

“*****,” she said as she pulled over on Santa Monica Boulevard. Tina rummaged through her bag looking for the orange bottle. Her right hand shook as two Xanax tumbled into her palm. She popped them into her mouth and took two gulps from a cup standing in the cup holder. The old coffee tasted bitter and cold, but was enough to force the pills down her throat.

Tina leaned her head on her hands that were folded around the steering wheel. Hot prickly sweat began to dot her forehead. She thought about making love to Bette for the first time since she lost the baby. “It could have been so perfect,” she thought. Tears began to well up in her eyes and roll down her cheeks and hands. She had expected their late afternoon lovemaking to wind into the evening, the way it used to. “When was the last time that had happened?” she thought.

Tina’s mind reeled back through the few times she and Bette had made love since Tina had quit her job. She thought about Foxworthy’s comment, that their love life was *****, and how shocked she was to hear him say something so blunt about something so personal. “*****, *****, *****” rang through her mind. She decided that Foxworthy was wrong.

She thought about how lovemaking with Bette was never *****, but rather how it had changed over the years, trading intensity and urgency for trust and an intimacy she never thought possible between herself and another person. She wanted that intensity back sometimes, though, but was aware of the burden that Bette had agreed to take on for her and their family, and so never pressed Bette, especially when she felt overwhelmed. Tina thought about how Bette had felt continually overwhelmed since joining the CAC.

Tina pictured the CAC, the main gallery and then Candace walking into Bette’s office earlier this afternoon. Tina’s face flushed with anger at the thought of Candace daring to kiss her woman, knowing she was in a committed relationship. “Bette wears a ***** ring,” Tina thought. Then she wondered if Bette had removed her ring at some point. “Was this the first time she had taken it off?”

Tina pictured Bette alone with Candace yesterday while she was in Palm Springs. She could hear Bette’s office door slid shut and the certainty of the lock latching. She saw Bette’s gaze, the one she held for Tina, directed toward Candace, and then Bette’s hands moving over Candace’s shoulders, around to her head, Bette’s lips parting slightly, her head tilted a little to the left, pulling Candace in for a kiss. “How long did it last?” Tina wondered. Her eyes burned with tears and her breathing became sporadic and short.

Tina thought about the first time that Bette had kissed her when she returned to the gallery for her earring. She felt mesmerized by Bette’s presence and focused desire. It was intoxicating to be on the receiving end of Bette’s wanting. Tina thought about how she had never felt so taken by another person, how she wanted to be completely joined to Bette from their one lingering kiss. She remembered feeling afterwards that if Bette had made any gesture or suggestion, Tina would have made love to her that afternoon. Tina sniffed her nose and wiped her eyes with a napkin she found in the glove box. She opened the car windows and leaned her head back on the head rest.

“Candace must feel that way too.” Tina thought, and then realized that she didn’t sleep with Bette immediately because of Eric. “Did Bette say that Candace is Yolanda’s girlfriend? God, did Bette have ***** with her right there in her office?”

The thought of Bette directing her passion toward Candace, kissing her, touching her skin the way she touched Tina, made her stomach roll. Tina took several deep breaths, as the Xanax wasn’t relieving her escalating anxiety. She felt lightheaded and her stomach hung in her throat as if she were falling down an elevator shaft. “Jesus, I’m going to be sick,” she thought. She opened the car door and stepped out onto Santa Monica Boulevard. She was surprised to feel how rubbery her legs had become. She hugged the car and walked around to the passenger’s side and bent over the curb.

“*****,” she said, realizing she was going to throw-up on busy Santa Monica Boulevard on a late Sunday afternoon. As saliva squirted under her tongue, Tina felt puny as if Bette’s confession and her own realizations had pounded her into the sidewalk. She waited for the first heave but it didn’t come. She bent her head back and looked at the Los Angeles sky that had become a hazy bruisy blue. She turned around and leaned against her car, her legs hot and trembling. She knew she couldn’t drive, but didn’t want to call Bette. Alice passed through her mind, she would come get her anywhere, but Tina didn’t want to complicate things between herself and Bette by calling Alice for help.

Tina opened the passenger door and found her cell phone in her bag. She pressed and held the “1″ key until the phone dialed her home number.

~~~

Bette laid on the bed long after she heard Tina’s car pull away from the house. She felt relieved that Tina told her she wasn’t letting her go over this. Bette thought about how angry Tina was when she left the house and how she didn’t like not know where she was going. Bette knew how to dismantle Tina’s anger. It was a skill she had practiced and perfected over the last seven years and it had served her well. Bette knew that she would probably need to let Tina rant some more before she could give her that look that started with her eyes wide and focused, her head bowed a little, and her lips slightly parted. A faint smile moved across Bette’s face as she pictured Tina coming home tonight.

She twisted a lock of her hair around her right index finger and thought about Tina wanting to take care of her, wanting to make love to her. Bette sighed and rolled over on her side and closed her eyes. She could feel the weigh of Tina’s body on her as she worked toward her ***** that was never a chore to achieve, but today she battled the image of Candace lying on top of her, doing to her what Tina did. She thought about how she shuffled between focusing on Tina, fantasizing about Candace, and the guilt and pleasure that each created.

“Tina knows, so it’s over,” Bette thought. “I need to get Candace out of my mind.’ She pulled the comforter in around her chest. Bette’s breathing became slow and steady and sleep came quickly.

“I forgot something,” Bette heard her say.

“You did,” Bette said and handed Candace her tool bag, but it was a baby car carrier with a crying baby inside. Candace took the car carrier and turned away from Bette, walking out of her office and down the CAC hall, the baby’s cries fading as Candace left the art museum. Bette felt relieved that she could give Candace her crying baby. She turned back to the file folder that she had been reviewing.

“Where’s the baby?” Tina asked.

“Hum?” Bette said, surprised to see Tina standing in her office.

“The baby, where is he?” Tina asked panicked, looking around the office.

“I don’t have the baby, T, you do.” Bette said, a little perturbed at Tina’s accusatory tone and question.

“Bette, I gave him to you,” Tina screamed.

Tina’s scream jolted Bette awake. She sat straight up, clutched the comforter to her chest, and instinctively looked for Tina on her side of the bed. She rarely remembered her dreams, but this one stuck with her as if she had just lived it. “*****,” she said as she swung her legs over the bed, her heart racing and sweat accumulated on the back of her neck. Bette took several deep breaths before leaving the bedroom for the kitchen.

The smell of olive oil and garlic hung in the air as Bette opened a cold bottle of Pellegrino. She took three deep swigs from the green bottle and leaned against the counter, her heart beat restored to normal. The pasta bowls and wine glasses sat where she and Tina had left them before Bette lead Tina to the bedroom. She thought about how she really wanted to be with Tina tonight, but not because she felt turned on when she saw Tina this afternoon, but because she needed to reconnect with her to repel against the growing attraction she felt for Candace.

Tina’s eagerness surprised her. Bette never talked about Tina’s miscarriage with her as she didn’t want to make Tina feel sad. “Maybe she’s over it,” Bette thought, her mind racing back to the night she found Tina sobbing from Dr. Wilson’s news. Bette thought about how hollow she felt around Tina’s miscarriage and how the effort to conceive and carry a baby was trying her patience when she needed to focus her energy toward building her reputation as an art museum director at the CAC and within the art community.

Bette tried to remember if Monday was Sonja’s day as she cleared the pasta bowls from the dining room table. She decided she would clean up the kitchen anyway so that Tina would have one less thing to be irritated about. Bette stood at the sink, her hands submerged in hot soapy water, washing away the remnants of the dinner Tina had prepared for them. “I wonder if Candace can cook?” Bette thought, and then huffed out a breath, annoyed with herself for allowing Candace to creep back into her mind. She reached for a dish towel when the phone rang.

Tina’s cell number displayed on the phone. Bette hesitated to pick it up, but then decided that maybe Tina had ended up at a place where she wanted Bette to join her.