1 Year before Present Day

            “Alright Boss, I’m taking off,” James said, poking his head into Bette’s office. 

            “Okay, James, have a good night,” she smiled, momentarily removing her reading glasses.

            “You better be right behind me,” he warned.  “Come on, Bette.  Go out and enjoy your birthday.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off.  “I’m meeting the girls in an hour or so.”

            “Good.  If you feel like getting a late start tomorrow, I’ll hold down the fort,” James said, backing out of the doorway.

            “We’ll see.”

            Forty-five minutes later, Bette was finally wrapping up for the day.  Her desk was slowly gaining some semblance of organization and her briefcase was all but packed.  She had no real desire to go out and celebrate the turning of another year, now 35 in total.  But there was no evading her friends.  If she didn’t leave now, she would certainly be late.

            The phone rang, as if on cue.  Bette cursed under her breath before reaching for the receiver.

            “Alice, I’m leaving right now, literally I have one foot out the door,” Bette said. 

            She was met with silence.

            “Alice?  You can’t honestly be pissed, I’m not even late yet.”

            Still nothing.  She looked at the phone, as if for clarification.

            “Hello? Porter Art Gallery” She quickly changed tacks, hoping that she wasn’t currently scaring off a potential buyer.  There was clearly someone there.  Besides the fact that she hadn’t heard a dial tone, there were the soft sounds of breathing on the other line. “Hello-o” she said, this time with a bit of annoyance.

            And then she had a thought.  Maybe it was crazy.  But it was enough to weaken her knees to the point of sitting down.  Her body made a thud against the leather desk chair.  With her elbows on the desk, Bette leaned one hand down to cradle her head while the other held the phone tightly to her ear.

            “Tina?” she whispered hesitantly. 

            There was no reply.  What could she expect?  This was the first phone call she had received from Tina in almost 15 years, and it might not even be her.  Had she really remembered her birthday?

            Bette sat quietly at her desk, not speaking for fear of scaring the caller off.  She sat for minutes on end, hanging onto the silence.  She listened to the distant breathing and let go of the tears stinging her eyes.  After 15 minutes, she heard a small sigh, just a puff of air, and then the click that signifies the end of a phone call. 

            Even knowing that no one was there was not enough to make Bette replace the phone to its cradle.  She held it tightly in both hands, a tangible object to which she could pin her feelings like so many thumbtacks on a corkboard. 

            She cried for what she didn’t have, for what she lost, and for the 15 minutes of life that had just been breathed back into her.