"Regardless of who asked who first, that was definitely a memorable first date ever," Lena recalls.
"Was that a date?" Stef asks. "You consider that our first date?"
"Well? Yes," Lena says confidently. "I mean, it didn't seem that way at the time because it was just coffee. But…yes I do consider it our first… regardless of how it ended."
- Flashback -
Two white ceramic cups – one filled with tea, the other coffee – steam up their fragrant contents between the two talking women. Lena leans forward with her hands clasped together on the table. Stef sits back in her seat, hands on her lap, taking in the wide angle view of her company. Then she leans forward and clasps her hands on the table, then she puts them back on her lap again. Stef desperately tries to feel comfortable in Lena's presence. A subdued chatter of clicking laptop keys and occasional conversation hovers over the background jazz music sifting through the surround-sound system. As she speaks, Lena crosses her legs, then uncrosses them. Stef leans forward to hear Lena better. She suddenly feels too close – she can smell the sweet tea on Lena's breath – she sits back into the chair again and crosses her legs.
Lena eagerly speaks about the different PTA committees. Diagramming with her finger on the table – moving around random grains of spilled sugar – she explains each committee's functions, how they communicate with each other, and how they share information with both the administration and the parents.
"You should come to the next community engagement committee meeting," Lena suggests. "The parents have strong connections with local business, social service agencies, grassroots groups, and faith-based organizations in the area. I think public safety would be a welcome addition."
"I could get a couple of guys from the precinct to hold a 'Safety Day," Stef says. "And I have a contact at the fire house who could bring a truck over."
"The kids would love that," Lena says with a joy-filled smile.
"Teacher, parent coordinator, future principal, party planner," Stef looks at Lena admiringly. "What don't you do?"
"I don't fight crime and I don't sing…yet. I've always wanted to take lessons."
"I definitely appreciate music," Stef says. "But fighting crime is overrated."
They talk about how long Stef has been in law enforcement and why she chose the vocation. Lena is engrossed by Stef's motivation and how she handles fear and stress and what she does to decompress from a challenging assignment. They both learn that they like to read and happen to have read some of the same books. They talk about the neighborhoods they grew up in and about their parents and about the schools they went to. They talk about baseball and piano music, child psychology and government spending on education and community corrections. They laugh about embarrassing moments at year-end work holiday parties and agree about the importance of EQ in any relationship and they disagree about disposable paper plates versus dishwashing liquid.
"Look at the time," Stef says with a start, "I have to get Brandon."
"That was the fastest hour ever," Lena says.
"We should do this again," Stef suggests extending her hand across the table. Stef isn't wearing her wedding ring.
Lena tentatively slides her hand into Stef's and tightly squeezes it. Stef's eyes are so blue. A discrete smile crosses Lena lips.
"I'd like that," Lena says. She gives Stef's hand a firm and formal shake. "We could discuss more ways you could get more involved…with the school."
But Stef doesn't hear Lena. Stef's gaze has moved past Lena's enchanting eyes over to the coffee shop's entrance. The color in Stef's face disappears. Her eyes, which were so fervent a moment ago, stare blankly. She is transfixed; paralyzed in an eternal handshake with a stunning woman.
Lena turns around to see a police officer caught in the entryway, similarly stunned, unmoving. He's handsome, dark, and rugged. He has a presence about him, an air of both strength and brawn. But Lena sees something else; a fury in his eyes that only serves as a thin guise over a lot of pain and betrayal. His silver engraved name tag reads, "Foster".