Bette’s Diary

A Short Story--Part 2 of "Look of Love"

No one, save Bette’s oldest sister Marilyn, knew Bette kept a diary for most of her life. Bette filled at least two diaries each year. Her diaries, from the time she met Norm as a grad student until shortly before she died of cancer at 73, filled much of a large built-in bookcase along one wall of her home office. Although she never admitted it, not even to Norm in their decades of friendship and as casual lovers, he was the great love of her life. Norm was not only her best friend, with benefits, but also she viewed him as the older big brother she always wanted but never had.

Before Bette died she appointed Marilyn executor of her estate, which included her home outside Boston and a cottage in a small seaside town on Buzzards Bay before it became discovered by people priced out of buying a place on the Cape. She also had a house full of books and a healthy investment portfolio.

Bette’s only family was her two sisters, one older and one younger. A third sister also died from cancer when she was in her fifties. Bette’s two surviving sisters were well off, especially after marrying well and divorcing better, so they didn’t need an inheritance. Once Bette learned her ovarian cancer was terminal, she discussed her pending death and her estate with her sisters. While Marilyn agreed to be the executor, Peggy, the younger sister, agreed to assist Marilyn in fulfilling Bette’s wishes. Her will stipulated that her estate would be liquidated, including selling her properties and physical possessions. Her sisters received a reasonable percentage and the rest was donated to several charitable causes that Bette supported during her lifetime.

There was one exception to Bette’s will, which she hadn’t put into writing. She instructed Marilyn to ensure her diaries, which covered the years she knew Norm, should go to him. Bette had preciously marked the passages, which she thought Norm should read. Before Bette’s funeral, which Norm tearfully attended with Marilyn and Peggy as a family mourner, Marilyn informed him about Bette’s diaries and handed him the keys to the storage unit where Marilyn and Peggy had put Bette’s books and diaries, among other items, into storage. Norm could either read the diaries there or read them, one box at a time, at his place. He chose the latter.

The diaries varied in size and thickness, ranging from 150 to more than 300 pages. During the time Norm knew Bette, she had filled more than 100 diaries. As he began reading her diaries, he was thankful that Bette’s handwriting was far more legible than his. He began with a passage in the diary she kept, which described when they first met:

I met this intriguing guy this morning at Buddy’s Coffee Shop near the university campus. He’s a few years older than I am, but there’s something about him that I find appealing. As it turned out,there was an empty chair at my table and he walked over and asked me if he could sit there. I told him to go ahead. He held a coffee cup in his hand and sat, saying it was his second cup and then had to leave for a job. I asked him what he did for work and he told me he was a computer IT troubleshooter at a well-known corporation, located on the Rte. 128 high-tech belt outside Boston. After he told me that, I thought he did look a bit like a dork or geek, but a lovable one—without the obligatory pocket protector or a slide rule poking out his pants back pocket. Do computer geeks even use slide rules?

Norm skimmed past the passages in which Bette wrote about her professional life, first as a psychotherapist, then after getting her PhD, as a psychologist. He sometimes chuckled and even laughed out loud at how she described the countless men in her life, often with the most unflattering adjectives and epithets. Since Bette and Norm knew and socialized with some of the same people, Norm wasn’t surprised at how many of Bette’s lovers not only included men, but also women he knew. That said, Bette was a stickler about with whom she slept. She was particularly adamant about her professional ethics as a psychologist: No Patients...EVER!

Her descriptions and critiques of the women with whom she shared her bed were more positive than those of the men, especially when she wrote about her sexual escapades.

What is about men, especially the corporate business types, who seem to think about nothing but how much money they’re worth and how they expect a women to satisfy their needy cocks? Most of them are shitty lays anyway. They come too quick and then skedaddle back to work or their fucking wives and/or girlfriends. Wham-bam and not even a ‘thank you mam.’ At least when I shack up with a woman, unless she’s a shrew of a cunt, it’s far more enjoyable. There’s tender foreplay before sex and cuddling afterward. And the sex is heavenly...more intense, often with multiple orgasms. Now THAT’S fucking!

He guffawed loudly when he read another passage in which Bette described him after he exchanged his corporate IT job as an employee to go solo as a freelancer.

Ever since Norm left his corporate job to become a freelance IT troubleshooter, he’s become more relaxed and funnier. He sends me ‘quickie emails,’ as he calls them, and signs them “Norm the g33K”

Norm spent months reading Bette’s diaries. He was humbled by her wit and insights, which didn’t surprise him because it added to her success as a psychotherapist and a psychologist. When he finished reading her last diary, he placed it on the end table next to his chair, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. His memories of their times together raced through the past as if viewing a film running on a fast-forward setting.

In another diary, Bette wrote how Norm liked to tease her about being named after Bette Davis:

So, Norm, aka g33K, thinks he’s a clever wiseass, singing off key as always, like a braying ass with his version of the hit song Bette Davis Eyes by Kim Carnes. So I got in his face and put my nose to his and stared into his eyes. “Look into my eyes carefully, Norm, I said. They may be the same color as her eyes, but the shape is much different. So, yeah, they’re Bette’s eyes for sure, but not Davis’s. They’re mine. Oh, and if you think you’re gonna get laid tonight, think again!”

After Norm read that passage, he laughed so hard he cried, but his laughter died into sobbing.

By the time he finished reading Bette’s diaries, he almost wished he hadn’t read her diaries at all because they brought back how deeply he felt about her and how much he missed her. Nothing she wrote shocked him because she pretty much told him everything that went on in her life anyway: her work, her affairs, successes, and failures. Their relationship was a friendship that superseded all others. They were, she once theorized, male and female mirror images of each other, living yin and yang. Lecherous siblings! She’d exclaim dramatically, embracing him and clawing at his clothes playfully. From the outset, sex was a convenient and essential aspect of their arrangement. As they aged, sex was less frequent yet still played a special role they treasured.

Once they retired, they spent more time together, either at his or her place, hanging out, listening to music, reading, and enjoying each other’s presence with or without sex. They also traveled together stateside and elsewhere. Norm cherished those years and was grateful they were so precious while they lasted. Just as Bette never told Norm that he was the love of her life, he also never told her how much he loved her. Instead, he often told her that he didn’t believe in love. “It’s an illusion that more often than not drive people crazy,” he’d tell her.

Then came Bette’s cancer diagnosis. Despite first chemo, then radiation treatment, the cancer spread to other parts of her body. She deteriorated quickly, too quickly Norm thought. Within a year she was in hospice. During that time, Norm spent as much time as he could with her, even spending the night, cuddling her as best he could. He was with her when she died and felt as if he died too.

Reading Bette’s diaries helped Norm realize nor only a sense of closure, but also reminded him how truly special she was to him. The more he thought about their relationship, the more he appreciated its quirkiness. He never imagined marrying another woman and raising a family. With Bette, he had his freedom and she had hers.

From the day she died until his own last dying thought, Norm believed Bette was all he ever needed or wanted. If that wasn’t true love, what was?