“So did you get the artist?”

            “What artist?” Bette wrinkles her forehead in bewilderment.

            Charlotte takes a sip of her wine, peering over the rim; she studies the woman in front of her. Bette’s shoulders are ridge with constant tension. Her dark brown eyes held a dullness that seemed out of place. Those are eyes that were meant to sparkle with intensity for all of life. It seemed as if the spirit had left Bette’s body, leaving an empty shell in its place. Bette’s laughter of a few moments ago appeared to have come from a different person; a person that when she smiled the world became a better place for it. A person, Charlotte was willing to bet, that had walked out of Bette’s life the same time as Tina did. Maybe smiling Bette had left a little before that. The laughter was the first positive emotion out of Bette, that didn’t involve the memory of Tina that is, that Charlotte had witnessed. Everything else Bette did was filled with sadness or a sense of obligation. Bette’s world was one of shadows and darkness. She was in desperate need of someone to push, or drag kicking and screaming, her back into the light. It would have to a spectacular person. There was only one person in Bette’s life that seemed to match that description. Charlotte wondered what the chances of the spark returning to Bette’s eye were. She hoped they were in Bette’s odds. Smiling Bette was a person everyone wanted in their lives. Charlotte was no exception.

            “Junior.” Charlotte stated.

            “Yes, I got him thanks to Tina.” Bette smiled, lost in memory.

            “Of course,” Charlotte‘s tone was missed by Bette.

            “It was a good trip of me.”

            “Of course, you met and swept Tina off her feet.”

            “What?” Bette looked startled. “No, I didn’t. Tina was involved with some guy. It wasn’t going well. There were many times that I wanted to scoop her into my arms and make her mine. However, she was seeing someone. I had principals back then.” The last sentence was filled with self-loathing.

            “Oh, sounds like a good story.”

            “It is but you will have to get it out of me another time.” Bette lapsed in to a silence as she ran her finger around the base of the wine glass. Her eyes fixed on a point beyond Charlotte, beyond this house and beyond this moment in time. “There was such a connection it took every ounce of my will power not to touch her.” She pauses, shakes her head, “It was a coup of me, to get that artist. It was a great week. We went to the festival and had a great time. I didn’t get to go to a lot of carnivals growing up. This was a small town festival so feveryone knew each other but they were so friendly to me, for the most part that is. Tina’s family was great. Her dad and younger brother are such southern gentlemen. Her mother,” Bette chuckles,” is a drill sergeant. Definitely not someone you want to cross but if she likes you there is nothing she won’t do for you. Her family is like I always thought families were like when I was little. You know before I found out that they are the exception not the rule.” Her smiled fades, she continues in a whisper,” we would have been a family like that. How could we not be with Tina as the helm?” Bette focuses on Charlotte, like she expected to be challenged.

            “I came from a family like that. Well for the most part.” Charlotte gives Bette a lopsided grin. “My aunts, uncles, and cousins are where it starts to get a little bizarre.” She finishes her wine once again taking Bette in, “Are you going to be alright?”

            Bette stares blankly at Charlotte. She opens her mouth to say, ‘Of course not! I’ll never be ok with out her and I don’t deserve to have her. So no I’m not going to be ok!’ Instead she closes her mouth and nods, not trusting herself with words.

            Charlotte nods back. She leans forward putting her small hand of top of Bette’s, “It will get better.”

            Bette stares down at Charlotte‘s hand on her own. For some reason at first all she could think of was how small that hand was, so much smaller than her own. Charlotte squeezed, Bette looked at Charlotte really seeing her for the first time. She is so small. She doesn’t seem like a small person. What does that mean? She doesn’t seem like she is 5 foot nothing. She has a presence that makes people not notice that she is so small. An authority, the authority she had just spoken with. Bette nodded. It will get better. Something told Bette that Charlotte knew. It will get better.                

            “I have to go to practice.” Charlotte raised an eyebrow in question, “You want to come?”

            “No thanks. I think I will take a page from Alice‘s book and retire early.”

            “It has been a long day. I wish I could go home and curl up in bed. Alas, I made plans with the band before I knew the wrath of shopping with Tonya.”

            Bette walks Charlotte to the door, where they exchange a moment of awkwardness. Charlotte ended it by giving Bette a quick hug. Bette was taken a little aback by the gesture. Recovering quickly she returned the hug.

            “Thank you for listening.”

            “It was my pleasure.”