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In the days that followed, a weight lifted from my shoulders. It was as if I dove from the orange cliff at Navajo Falls into the spring waters of Lake Havasu. Our relationship had begun again with a fresh start. Tonight, I skipped my evening swim to stop at the grocery because I’d invited Richard for dinner. Since cooking took unnatural effort for me, I kept it simple and planned a meal of pasta Alfredo and a salad. I’d even bought new plates to serve dinner on.

On the way home, I stopped at a liquor store for a bottle of white wine. The clerk talked me into a pricey California Chardonnay. It was more money than I had ever spent on wine. But I wanted to impress Richard, whose knowledge of wine far exceeded my own. And though he didn’t drink, I would. With alternative rock music playing, I swept the floors and wiped the counters. I straightened stacks of books and lit a few candles. I washed vegetables and shredded lettuce for the salad.

At seven o’clock precisely, the phone rang. Th