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Something about Artie’s lips against hers feels superficial. She tries to enjoy the feeling of his hands roving her back but she can tell he’s tense too; she hears it in his breaths.
Betty exhales as his touch trails down to her thigh, lips parting further as he leans into the kiss. He hasn’t kissed her like this in a long time. Like it was goodbye. She waits for him to pull away first, but he’s kissing her like it’s his last day on earth.
“I’m gonna miss you.” Artie says, half into her lips, before sitting back against the bed. There’s a sort of somber tone to his voice that she’s not used to at home. She only hears it when he tries to be a man for those producers. Sometimes it works.
She forces an uncertain smile in hopes that he’ll return it. “You say that every day.”
“I mean it.”
His eyes are downcast. She sits up, guiding his face towards her to look him in the eye. He looks like he’s stifling tears.
His frown reminds her of Joe, who she swears has never cracked a smile in his life. Unless it was to be smug, of course. She tries not to allow her imagination to shift Artie’s features into Joe’s. Not on a night like this, where she won’t be in his arms the next evening. She was going to have to get used to that.
“Well,” her thumb strokes across his cheek softly, a quiet sigh escaping her as the exhaustion from the day begins to settle in. “Are you going to be okay? I mean, you could be over there for months.”
Artie shifts. She wonders if he’s thinking the same thing, wishing that there was no lingering tension.
“You’ll be waiting for me.” He says, softening a little as her arms wrap around the expanse of his shoulders. He accepts the embrace, and goes silent for a second. “We’ll call. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Betty doesn’t believe his reassurance, but it’s kind anyway. He cracks a grin, and it’s difficult to tell if it’s genuine.
“Don’t forget to water the plants while I’m gone.” He chuckles, reaching for her hand around his shoulder and giving it a squeeze.
“You’re worried I’ll forget?” She rolls her eyes playfully. “I water them more than you do.”
“Alright, alright.”
Artie’s laughter ebbs into silence again and a brief twinge of anger runs through her. Why his last night home for a while couldn’t be a normal one, she’d never know.
“So when do I say goodbye?” She says, and she can sense that he’s uncomfortable again. He’s pretty good at hiding it, and she knows expressions. She always did, ever since all of the training in her youth. At least it comes in handy somewhat.
She’s not going to miss that face he makes. The subtle discomfort. Perhaps it will be different when he’s back from Tennessee, face no longer sun-soaked or clean shaven. She can imagine a mustache, showing his newfound vanity. That is, if everything goes well.
“Do you want to say goodbye?” Artie clears his throat. “Now, I mean?”
“I don’t really know.”
Now she’s uncomfortable too. Great. Artie is a sweetheart, but he’s not as deep as Joe. This conversation would’ve gone smoother with him, save for some sardonic quips from Joe’s end; but she’s used to that by now. She had learned to tune out Joe’s remarks.
With Artie, it’s just different.
“Betty,” his brows furrow. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I’m going to miss you. A lot.”
A lot of things are wrong. Things that she can’t name or even recognize.
He releases her hand. “I’m gonna miss you too, I told you. You just seem…I don’t know. Are you upset with me?”
“No.” She curses herself for being so goddamn indirect, but she’s reading into every word that makes it past his lips and everything else she knows he’s holding back. It’s all too nice, or dismissive, or shallow. It reminds her of what she likes about Joe, aside from his inability to be shallow; and how she never noticed any of this before him.
She imagines a despondent Artie all alone in Tennessee, weary and miserable, rain battering the earth. Brooding, brown eyes perpetually narrowed, muscles constantly stiff. He looks an awful lot like Joe. Maybe she’d like it that way, and she would fall in love with him all over again, she thinks.
Those are thoughts she’ll have to sit with in Artie’s absence.
“I’m alright with goodbye. My problem is, it doesn’t feel like this should be our last night.” She says bluntly.
“Well, it’s not, really.”
“You know what I mean, right?”
Artie nods, slowly. That quick twinge of anger returns. Betty takes his hand again.
“Really, I’m fine with missing you. I’ve had my fair share of goodbyes.” She searches his gaze. “My father?”
“Right.” A silence descends in which he shifts back and forth, his head finally finding its place against the soft pillow, eyes settling on hers.
She knows she contradicted herself. She just can’t pinpoint why it’s so hard to open up to him all of a sudden. Maybe he’s afraid of returning and nothing is the same anymore, like her. Maybe he doesn’t trust her to be alone. Maybe it’s not just the plants.
The thought of him changing, at all, is terrifying. All she wants is Artie, not as he is now, probably; but the Artie from yesterday, sweeping her off her feet on their wedding day. He puts that image in her head a lot. She wants to look forward to it as much as he does. For him, it means an escape from actors talking his ear off on set. That kind of life seems distant to her. It’s hard to picture.
It’s all too much. Tennessee, work, Artie, who she loves very much; Joe. The unanswered calls.
He yawns, shifting on his side. He lets go of her hand once more and she decides to lay down too. It’s going to be hard to sleep tonight, she thinks, when there’s that lingering sense of foreboding all because of stupid goodbyes. It could mean anything.
She remembers that she was going to meet up with Joe tomorrow. A small bit of guilt fills her chest. At the same time, there’s something to look forward to.
Artie looks at her like a dog. She almost expects him to kiss her again, but he’s still breathing like he’s nervous. She knows that there’s so many words that won’t make it past his lips tonight. It’s unlike him.
“We’ll say goodbye tomorrow morning.” He offers, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, you know?”
“I’m not. It’s actually the least of my concerns. My biggest worry is sitting through another day of ‘Miss Kramer.’” A hint of a lie seeps through her words and she knows that he notices, but he’s too distracted by her Sheldrake impression. He chuckles.
“I believe you.” Artie says groggily, relaxing into the pillow. “I think I’m going to turn in.”
“Good idea.” She whispers, watching his eyelids flicker and close. Sleep sounds nice, but the idea of tomorrow was going to keep her up tonight. It’s a frustrating mix of feelings. The uncertainty is terrifying.
”Love you.” He says.
He doesn’t say anything else. It’s unusual.
Once she knows he’s asleep, she shuts off the light and turns her back to him when she lays back down. He’s probably dreaming of their wedding, or that little house with a picket fence that he always rambles about. She wishes she could get a glimpse into his mind, just to see if she’s still in the picture. Even then, it still doesn’t seem like enough.
She briefly turns around to glance at him. His breathing is even now. He’s definitely dreaming about that.
“Bye, Artie.” She murmurs, as practice. Well, she doesn’t know why. What frustrates her more is how easy it is to say that.
Artie leaves tomorrow, she goes to work, she visits with Joe. It’s a typical day, maybe even a good one.
But Artie leaves.
She’s thinking about it like he won’t come back. She’s thinking too much for this hour. She needs to stop fucking thinking.
He’s sleeping soundly. It’s much too late for this. She turns around again, and lets her mind wander, as unpleasant as that is. All of those images pop into her head again. She lets them.
He’s probably going to forget about this in the morning. Lucky him.
Maybe she’ll be ready to say goodbye, then. Maybe that’s what that kiss said.
She closes her eyes.