Chiaroscuro

Chapter 28

They walked silently out to the car together.

Bette opened the passenger door and turned to find that Tina had walked a few steps away and was looking out at the ocean.

“Tina?”

Tina turned toward her and held out her hand.  “Please come here for a moment.”

Bette walked over to her.

“I need to tell you that I understand how unexpected this is.  I know how important tomorrow night is for you and if you would rather wait until after the show to talk, that’s alright. I can wait.” She paused.  “Angelica is with Kit.”

Bette watched Tina’s face in the moonlight; her own face reflected the uncertainty that she felt.

“What I mean is, nothing will change between today and tomorrow night, Bette.  I have the legal papers at the inn that I had drawn up to give you full parental rights and guardianship. I can give them to you tonight and leave tomorrow, if that’s what you want. Or we can wait and I can stay until after the show.  Whatever makes you more comfortable. But I need to tell you some things.”

“Why now, Tina? What changed?”

“Everything.”  She looked at Bette, “Everything has changed.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you want to talk tonight, let’s go to the inn and we can talk there.”

“I don’t know, Tina.  This is coming out of left field right now. I don’t know how I feel about talking to you, I don’t know how I feel about your being here for the show—I don’t know how I feel about anything.”

“Are you telling me that you don’t want Angelica in your life?” 

“God, no. That’s the only thing that I am sure of. Timing is everything in life, isn’t it? I decided a week ago to come back to LA. I was coming home to try to reason with you—or beg if necessary.  I thought perhaps that time had helped change your mind.” 

“It was more than time, Bette.  It’s been a long battle for me—learning to regain my life. I’m not making excuses for any of my behavior, Bette—I just need to explain some things to you.  But if you don’t want to hear them, that’s ok too—it’s your choice.”

Tina walked over to the open car door and turned back to Bette before getting in. “Should I get someone else to drive me back to the inn?”

Bette stood and looked at her waiting for the answer.  Tina’s stance was relaxed—there was no challenge in her question, none of the impatience she remembered so bitterly.  Bette walked over to the car and got in.  Tina waited a moment then got in.  Bette pulled out onto the coast road and drove silently. 

“Bette…I think you passed the turnoff for the inn.”

“I know.  I’m driving to the house. Do you mind? If you are going to stay for the show, I think I need to show you something first. Plus, I haven’t eaten much today and I think I’d better eat something.”

Tina watched Bette drive; her posture, as always, reflected her mood. Tina saw that she was coiled tight.  She remembered how relaxed she had looked walking into the restaurant; now her shoulders were up around her ears, her arms stiffly holding the steering wheel.

“Bette?”

“Yes?”

“That’s fine. But can you please try to relax?  I’m not going to change my mind about this.”

“I’m fine, Tina. It’s just hard to find the turnoff in the dark.”

Tina felt Bette slow the car down as the road changed from pavement to dirt; she drove slowly and then pulled up onto a narrow drive.  Tina saw a small house and Bette pulled behind it and parked.

“We’re here.”

They climbed out of the car.

“Be careful—it’s very rocky.” Tina stumbled as Bette spoke; she grabbed Bette’s arm to steady herself and Bette held her to stop her from falling. Tina’s scent filled her head for a moment and she felt seared with memories.

They walked into the house through the kitchen and Bette opened a cabinet to take out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. She waved the glasses at Tina with a questioning glance.

“Not for me. I’m not drinking.”

Bette poured herself a quick shot, drank it down and then poured more into the glass.  She shrugged at Tina, “Dutch courage.”

“I thought you wanted to eat something?” Tina walked over to the small refrigerator and opened it. “Not much in here.”

Bette laughed.  “I told you, I had decided to go back to LA so I haven’t done much in the way of food shopping.”

“How much weight have you lost?” 

“It’s not much—I’ve been running so I just look thinner.”

“Right.”

Tina scanned Bette as they stood in the kitchen; she was at least twenty pounds lighter and her body was honed tight.  Tina watched as her arm raised the glass to her lips and noticed the sharp muscle definition.  Her cheekbones were sharply etched in shadow under the overhead light and the cords in her neck stood out as she pulled her head back to drink.  Bette had never been this thin as long as Tina had known her—there was an asceticism to her that Tina found disconcerting. 

Tina followed Bette into the main room of the house and sat down. 

“Tell me what changed. Tell me why I should trust you.”

Tina knew that she would only have this one opportunity to explain and wasn’t happy that Bette was drinking. “I will sit here all night with you to explain, but not if you keep drinking.”

“You have a lot of nerve, you know that?”  Bette stared at her, put the glass down on the floor and brought the bottle back into the kitchen.  When she came back, she nodded at Tina. “I’ll finish this—it’s too expensive to throw out.”  She sipped the scotch and said, “Go on.”