Stella
I'm nervous as Dad clears the table of the dinner dishes. My hands actually shake as I smooth the skirt of the dress I wear over my thighs. “Do we want some dessert?" I ask with what I know is more exuberance than is needed.
“I got a chocolate cake at The Café today," Mom says from where she sits.
“Great, I'll make some coffee to go with it."
The thing is, I need something to do with my hands, need something to keep me from blubbering like an i***t. If someone were to ask me why I'm so nervous, I can't really say. It just feels as if a big part of my life hangs in the balance of this outcome.
“You don't have to be nervous," Dad tells me as he loads the dishwasher and I start the coffee pot.
“I shouldn't even be." I shake my head as I open the cake container, cutting us all p
