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Bette couldn’t sleep.
She had laid in Tina’s bed for longer than she knew, too afraid to roll over and glance at the clock - had it been fifteen minutes or two hours? Tina’s back was still pressed against her chest, and Bette could tell from the deep, slow breaths, comforting her from soon after they had rolled into bed and had held each other, that Tina was fast asleep. However, since Tina had whispered a final “I love you” and goodnight, half asleep already, Bette’s mind had turned on warp speed.
She couldn’t believe the past twenty four hours, and could hardly comprehend that Tina was in her arms - asleep. They had rushed back to Bette’s house only to grab her passport while Tina bought a second ticket for an absurd amount of money. They had made it through security and to the gate with two minutes to spare, driven by endorphins and barely keeping their hands off each other. They hadn’t spoken about long term plans and had spent the flight waiting for the moment they could escape to join the mile high club, and the rest of the time at their seat, holding each other, and remembering every so often people they should update. Everything was such a rush that Bette had no time to process.
Now, in bed, in Tina’s expensive sheets, Bette’s mind had time to analyze the past two days and the fact that she and Tina weren’t just starting a relationship, they were essentially u-hauling immediately. Of course, it was a different situation, since they had been together from 1996 to 2004, then on and off, then 2008 to 2018. But, still, Bette had never imagined this. Funnily enough, Bette had imagined scenarios after their divorce where perhaps she might get to have sex with Tina again. She and Tina had always been hot and heavy, and when Bette had given up on Tina coming back to her, she imagined a scenario - like so many times before - when they both had been furious and somehow that sexual tension - always there at a low level, even when apart - bubbled up in their anger and they ended up in bed together.
Every time Tina came to LA, there was a part of Bette that fantasized about fighting over coparenting at the start and somehow, miraculously, ending up in Bette’s bed, sheets strewn and sweaty. Bette rarely brought people to her bedroom because she always thought she was saving it for Tina, even if that scenario lived primarily in her fantasies. It was an unlikely possibility that haunted her, that played in the back of her head with all her post-divorce relationships. Even in her fantasy, Bette knew it would only be a night. A hook up resulting from their unresolved tension, from the attraction that Bette knew she felt and that Tina felt, still, too. But Bette had thought - until two days ago - that this attraction would never be enough, that Tina needed someone who wasn’t so… Bette. So, even in this fantasy, built on the smallest slivers of hope when Bette would catch Tina glancing at her bust instead of her eyes or grazing her hand over Bette’s hips or holding her hand just a second too long - this fantasy stayed in the bedroom. Bette never let herself hope for something more. During the divorce and one year ago, when Tina came to her door, Tina let Bette know her emotional failures.
So this moment - holding Tina, asleep, at the start of a relationship - was a moment Bette never thought she would get back. Tina felt safe with Bette. The sex was just as amazing and exhausting and filling as Bette had longed for - but this was better. Knowing that Tina wanted all of Bette, the good and the bad and the growing. That she didn’t just want Bette in a moment of passion, but as a partner.
They hadn’t closed the curtains in Tina’s penthouse Toronto apartment and a nearly full moon illuminated Tina’s crisp, manicured bedroom. Rays of light from the moon landed on Tina’s head, giving her red-blonde hair a cool light. Bette gently moved her right hand from Tina’s hip to her head, stroking the silken strands. Bette closed her eyes, remembering the nearly two decades the couple had spent together, how for so long she had taken these small moments for granted. Tina felt like coming home. Bette wanted to bottle this moment up and never forget it. Opening her eyes, she took in Tina’s silhouette, trying to tattoo it in her memory. Just in case.
And then came the anxiety, the reason she had stayed awake, terrified of falling asleep and losing this moment, this person, this relationship, which she had fucked up so, so many times before. Bette’s mind raced at warp speed, vacillating between fear of losing T and wanting to never forget the feeling of T in her arms.
Bette’s head felt flushed and heavy, and she moved her hand away from stroking Tina’s perfect hair to feel her forehead. Reaching up, her hand brushed against her check, which was wet. Bette cautiously sat up in bed, but Tina was deeply asleep. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, and she felt the tears.
Bette jumped out of bed, startled both by her unconscious crying and the cold wood floor on her bare feet. She tenderly treaded to the bathroom, looking at her face in the mirror. They had arrived in Toronto, exhausted, not even taking the time to remove their makeup. Bette’s face was streaked with runny black mascara, which was surely on the pillow now too. She glanced around at the bathroom she had barely looked at before, searching for a hand towel or tissue or anything to wipe her face. Her eyes landed on a small oak side table with shelves, with perfectly organized makeup supplies in little wooden bins and a little floral arrangement on top.
“Oh, T…. of course” she whispered, bringing her head down to take in the smell of the flowers. To remember what it was like living with Tina.
Bette cleaned her face and headed out to the living room, finally admitting that she was not going to be able to fall asleep.
Tina’s apartment was regal, but not any of that modern design. Bette felt like she had walked into a perfectly preserved house from the another time - perhaps 19th century New England? Antique furniture - dark wood in matching colors and designs - braided rugs - warm, comforting furniture. Non of the angles and minimalism in style now. It felt like a home. And of course, impeccably chosen art. The only out of place design element were the huge floor to ceiling windows, sharp and angular. But the rest of the apartment was unified, and gave Bette the feeling that if she looked out the window, she would see pine trees and snow and a stone wall, not the city of Toronto. The whole apartment felt like a warm embrace, and Bette could almost smell cinnamon and pine needles from the candles lit hours before.
This was Tina’s style - Bette was seeing how much she had grown into expressing herself when independent. It was bittersweet, Bette thought, realizing how much she had dominated the early years of the relationship.
Bette walked over to the window, looking over at the city in front of her. Most buildings still shone brightly in the night. This was her new home. Even when living in LA, Bette had always had a house, a yard, a driveway.
But for Tina, none of that mattered. The anxiety rushed back up Bette’s throats. Looking out into the city, her vision blurred. She felt hot tears roll down her cheeks and into her slightly open mouth. She tasted the intense salty tears when she pursed her lips together. She closed her eyes tightly, making the tears welled up in her eyes cascade downwards. She didn’t bother wiping them or trying to stop herself from crying. She let herself truly fear the depth of both her fear and her longing.
Time passed, and Bette did not know long, but the tears had dried up. Two hands delicately wrapped around her waist from behind, and she felt Tina’s chin resting on her right shoulder. Tina was standing on her tiptoes from behind, hugging Bette tightly.
“Where did you go?” She whispered in Bette’s ear. “I miss you.”
The tears suddenly returned with a new rush of intensity, and Bette felt her body shake with sobs, and Tina’s body react by holding her tighter.
Tina rocked Bette slowly back and forth. She quietly said, “Oh, Bette, oh. shhh…. it’s going to be okay.” Tina held her tightly and Bette let her.
In the silence, Tina held Bette, occasionally taking an arm from around her waist to stroke Bette’s hair. After the sobs had decreased in intensity and Bette had caught her breath, Tina let go and guided Bette slowly to turn around.
“Bette, what’s wrong?” she said ever so quietly, Bette wasn’t sure if she had been three feet away if she would have heard Tina.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Bette said, knowing that wasn’t really answering the question. Bette was staring at Tina’s feet instead of meeting her eyes, so rarely used to letting anyone - even T - see her so vulnerable.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Bette said again, a little stronger, now meeting Tina’s eyes. Tina’s eyes were glassy, too. Eyes locked, she continued, “because I’m terrified of losing you.”
“Oh, Bette,” Tina said, cupping Bette’s face with both her hands and wiping Bette’s tears with her thumbs. “Being afraid is okay. I’m a little scared, too, but, this, this is real“ she whispered.
Tina knew what Bette was thinking, because, Bette thought, it was Tina.
“I know you’re probably thinking, what’s different this time? But B - look at you. Look at us. Look at the work we’ve done. At the work we know we need to do to make this last. I think - we’re both willing to do that now.” Tina pulled Bette in tightly, and Bette breathed in Tina’s hair, felt the love she had longed for since they had signed the divorce papers. “Look at you, letting yourself feel your feelings. And telling them to me.”
Tina pushed Bette away to meet her eyes. Tina had the softest smile when she said, “I think that’s pretty good change, huh?” Bette could hear smile in her voice. “I don’t think either of us has really been fully vulnerable from the start…” Tina’s voice drifted off as she squeezed Bette’s hands.
They stood there in front of the window, Bette unable to look away from Tina’s eyes. Even though Tina’ was no longer holding her tightly, when Bette got lost in Tina’s deep brown eyes, Tina’s love felt so overwhelming it almost felt like a palpable embrace.
Tina’s voice came out stronger now, still holding eye contact with Bette: “We’ve spent our lives always falling back into each other’s arms, no matter what pulls us apart. But now- now we are healthier.” Tina said firmly. “Now, we are ready to get through those hurdles together. I’m so proud of you Bette.”
Finally, finally, Tina pulled Bette in for the physical embrace she had been longing for. “I’ve always been in love with you.” Tina spoke so slowly, letting each word hang on her lips as if she had been waiting to say them an age. “I’ll always love you.
“And I’ll always love you.” Bette said back, letting herself trust that this moment was not temporary. That this woman who understood her and her fears, who communicated wordlessly with her, who she had been in love with for nearly three decades, was accepting her, just as she was, fears and vulnerabilities and flaws and incompleteness and all.
“Can you hold me?” Bette said, choked up. “I’m so, so tired.”
Tina took Bette’s hand, leading her to the sprawling couch and laying down, indicating Bette rest her head on Tina’s chest. Bette rested her head on Tina’s bosom and wrapped her hands around the woman whose body was home. Tina wrapped her arms around Bette and kissed her forehead ever so gently. Sleep drifted over Bette easily now as she let go of her anxieties with the safety and security of Tina enveloping her.
Bette was home.