THE DINNER PARTY
She folded the dinner napkins for what seemed like the umpteenth time; she wanted everything to be perfect for the first dinner party she had ever hosted. It really wasn’t her idea, in fact she had strongly resisted it the first time her psychiatrist, Dr. Mueller, had suggested it; she thought she just wasn’t ready. Not yet, anyway.
The past two years had been incredibly stressful, so stressful in fact that she wondered how she had even survived; first the divorce, then losing her job, her career and, finally, her family. She really hadn’t actually “lost” her family but whenever her two teenage daughters spent the weekend, there was a palpable tension that made everyone uncomfortable and they had even started calling her Mary. Perhaps that was something that teenagers did nowadays. At first it really bothered her, but she never complained; what good would it do anyway?
Although she really couldn’t afford it, she had rented a three-bedroom apartment so that each girl could have her own room when they stayed with her and she had worked really hard to furnish them the way she imagined her daughters would like them. Perhaps that had been a mistake; perhaps she should have let them furnish them themselves as their reactions were rather mixed the first time they had visited.
For the most part, she and her “ex” seemed to be on good terms although they didn’t see each other very often and ever since her “ex” had begun a new relationship, they very seldom spoke. It wasn’t that the divorce had been messy, it just seemed a natural thing to do under the circumstances and they had parted friends, if that’s ever possible in a divorce.
Stopping in front of the mirror as she walked from the dining room to the kitchen, she once again checked her lipstick and pushed a stray hair back behind her ear. Lately it seemed as though mirrors had become a large part of her life. Oftentimes she would stand in front of her bedroom’s full length mirror, turning this way and then that way, checking herself from all angles and she never seemed pleased with what her reflection always revealed; a little too pudgy here and there, an uplift needed here, a tiny tuck needed there – it always seemed as though she never quite recognized the image in the mirror; like another person was staring back at her and she was never satisfied with what she saw, no matter what she did. Dr. Mueller had warned her about that.
Her self-imposed exile after what she called her “natural disasters” seemed the only way to put the pieces of her life back together. Mutual friends had rallied around her “ex”, her former co-workers seemed to melt into the distance whenever they happened to meet, often apologizing for not recognizing her and now her daughters treated her like a casual friend rather than a parent.
Her only relative living nearby, “Cousin Sheila”, had never been one of her favorites; she was someone who always spoke her mind regardless of the circumstances whether her remarks were appropriate or not. She was the type of person who made people cringe when she walked into the room as they never knew what she’d say and it almost felt as though the air was being sucked out of the room, leaving everyone feeling lightheaded and uncomfortable. Whenever Sheila was present, the conversations seemed as though everyone needed to walk on eggshells; if you asked her how she was doing, she was just as likely to answer that she was feeling like “fucking shit” regardless of who was present, so conversation with Sheila in the room was always guarded, at best.
If it were up to her, Sheila would have never been on her guest list, but Dr. Mueller had strongly urged her to include her without adequately explaining why it would be a good idea. That seemed to be his style; sending her down unknown paths without revealing her destinations. Let her discover them herself.
As hoped, the dinner party had been a lovely affair from the moment the doorbell announced the first arrival until the last guest had left. Conversation was lively, the food was perfect and had elicited generous compliments and even “Cousin Sheila” seemed to be in perfect form as though she had known these total strangers all her life; everyone seemed to enjoy her presence.
In fact, Sheila was the last to leave as she and Mary sat on the couch and reminisced about old times amid great laughter as they finished their last glass of wine and, for the first time, Mary really enjoyed her company and looked forward to spending more time with her.
Long after midnight as Mary walked her to the door, they stopped and hugged as “Cousin Sheila” stepped back and looked her in the eyes. “I had a wonderful time tonight and I really appreciate you inviting me and I hope that we can spend more time together but I do have to be perfectly honest with you; I liked you better as Scott,” as she turned and walked out the door.
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