The Roses Were Lavender

The pink ones smelled the best. But looked a little worn. Red was classic. The dark red ones, with yellow streaks, exotic. The yellow ones were the freshest. But clinical and devoid of scent.

The bouquet in the bottom caught her eye. The roses were lavender.

* * * * *

She called from Denver. Talked over normal things. Missed him. He'd been home from overseas for less than a month. She was still traveling for business, only seen him for 12 hours on a layover in Atlanta, between her flight from Baltimore back to Denver. She wasn't scheduled to be home for another four days.

"I was supposed to get my period," she mentioned on the phone. "I expected it three days ago."

He hesitated. "You worried?" His voice was nervous.

"Not really," she said. Although, truthfully, she was like clockwork. "I'm probably just stressed about the merger and everything we have left to do. Besides. My boobs feel funny. Nipples ache. Probably means its coming in the next day or two."

"Don't say that!" he exclaimed.

"Say what?!" she responded, surprised.

"Every woman who comes into the hospital and says her nipples hurt . . . it means she's pregnant." His excitement was evident now, even over the phone.

"I don't know honey . . . I'm pretty sure my boobs get sore like this when I get my period." Although now she wasn't so sure. She laughed. Said her goodnights. Lay awake for hours.

* * * * *

Four days later, he met her at the airport. Hugged her, but carefully, like she was fragile. Looked at her, afraid to ask. She looked at him. Shook her head. He took her hand and they walked to the car.

At the apartment, he opened the door for her. Carried her suitcases in.

"Welcome home."

She walked in to the familiar surroundings. Could smell the cinnamon scent the maid service used when they cleaned. The dining room table caught her eye. A big bouquet. The roses were lavender. Unusual color, she thought. Then she noticed the package beside them. Lavender box. Picture of the little white stick. Just like in the commericals.

He hugged her. Urged her into the bathroom. Stood outside the door. Then burst in, unable to wait.

"Three minutes, sweetie . . . it takes three minutes," she said. But she looked down. Could already see the little plus sign forming. He saw it too. Beamed. As if he was the first man to procreate. Hugged her hard.

* * * * *

She contemplated the lavender roses. Smiled.

Then two bodies crashed into her. Four arms hugged her, laughing. Two heads of tousled brown hair - one at her shoulder, already, one still tucked nicely at her waist.

"Hey, Mommy. I like those." Pointing to the multi-colored bouquet.

She picked up the multi-colored bunch, sniffing. One last look at the lavender bouquet. Then she ushered her offspring toward the checkout.