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some flowers.
    Sara was out of the market and on her way home in record time.
    The blinking light on the answering machine caught her attention as she opened the door. She pushed the play button on her way to the kitchen.
    “Hi, Sara. It’s Cynthia. I just wanted to let you know how much I am looking forward to tonight. Give me a call when you get home.” 
    Sara unpacked the groceries and picked up the phone. She was shaking so bad she could hardly dial the number.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi Cynthia. I just got home. I had to stop by the store and pick up a few things. How has your day been?
    “It’s been okay. Not as hectic as I thought it would be, thanks to you.”
    “I am glad it went well. I need to get started on dinner so let me give you the directions to my house,” Sara said as she started opening cabinet doors looking for pots and pans.
    “Great,” Cynthia responded after writing down the directions. “It should be easy to find. I’ll see you about seven.” 
    Sara had to hurry. Everything that she did was a blur. It was a good thing that she remembered how to make the F ettuccini A lfredo and did not have to look for the recipe. Once the sauce was ready, she poured it over the chicken and turned it down to a slow simmer. After putting the pasta into the boiling water, Sara ran down the hall to shower. 
    Fumbling through the closet for the perfect outfit, she nervously picked out white pants and a baby blue button down shirt. She dressed quickly, slid on some sandals, and headed back to the kitchen to check on dinner.  Everything was just fine. She slid the breadsticks into the oven and drained the pasta. 
    The table was perfect. She had placed the flowers in a vase in the center. Two pink tapered candles were on each side of them. Her grandmother’s china had not been used in quite some time until now. It had an elegant pink and lavender pattern that matched the candles. A dinner plate was placed in front of each chair. A salad plate was placed gently on top of each dinner plate. A wine glass was placed above and to the right of each plate.  The linen napkins were the final touch. The silverware was placed on each one. The wine was chilling in the ice bucket on the side of the table.
    Taking a deep breath, Sara pulled the breadsticks from the oven.  She placed them carefully in a basket and wrapped them in cloth to keep them warm. She set them on the table and lit the candles just as the doorbell rang. 
    Cynthia was cradling a bottle of wine. She looked radiant in her faded jeans and white shirt. “You are right on time.” Sara said as she motioned for Cynthia to enter. 
    Sara closed the door behind them. She reached for the bottle of wine and leaned in to kiss Cynthia on the cheek at the same time. Cynthia turned just a little and their lips met. Flashes of the night before consumed Sara for minute.
    “Make yourself comfortable. I already have a bottle of wine chilling. I will pour us a glass and we can save this one for later. I hope you are hungry.” Sara disappeared into the kitchen as she spoke. When she returned she saw Cynthia looking at the pictures on the fireplace mantle.
    ‘That’s my mom,” Sara said handing Cynthia a glass. “That handsome fellow in this one is my dad. This one is the three of us at Christmas this past year. That was one of the few times that we have all gotten together since their divorce.”
    “Are you close with them both?”
    “I guess so. I am the only child. They know as well as I do that I will be the one to take care of them, should they ever need it.”
    “Do they know?” Cynthia asked shyly.
    “About me being a lesbian? My mom does. She’s cool with it. She is constantly trying to fix me up. She is terrified for me to be alone. I have never told Dad. I don’t think he would be too accepting of it. Since they don’t see each other often, I don’t worry too much about Mom telling him.”
    “Neither of my parents handled it too well when I came