There was a lot of chatter going on among the Anatomy secretaries that afternoon. When I checked my mail, I found out why. There was an invitation in everyone’s mail slot. I opened mine and it read:
You’re invited to the
Annual Anatomy Christmas Party
at Yancey and Lily Roberts’ house
609 Rue Gourmandise Place
December 21, 6:00 pm to 8:00 pm
Please give your beverage donation to Dina Strong and
let her know what food you will be bringing.
(All faculty are expected to attend; spouses are welcome).
I had received many party invitations over the years, but this one sounded more like a command than an invitation. Why was I not surprised? I was beginning to get it that Roberts was in to dictatorship, not leadership. And what was this ‘beverage donation’ business all about? Before I committed to anything, I wanted to talk to Amy and get a better handle on what kind of Christmas party this was.
Amy was in her office working on her exam.
“Hi. Did you see this yet?” I asked, holding up the invitation.
“Yeah. I picked up mine earlier today,” she said. “I had forgotten all about the infamous Anatomy ‘Pot-luck’ Christmas party. I wish Roberts had forgotten about it, too.”
“Can you tell me about this?” I asked. “It sounds like more of a command than an invitation.”
She laughed. “Smart girl,” she said. “That’s just what it is. You’re required to go. All of us are.”
“Okay,” I said. “But I take it everyone is supposed to bring something to eat. And what’s this ‘beverage donation’ thing?”
“Let me explain,” she said. “In the usual ‘Roberts’ fashion, the only thing he’s providing is a location. Nothing that costs him money. No food. No drinks. Just a house. Everyone brings some kind of dish. And the faculty pays for the drinks – alcoholic and non-alcoholic. The usual ‘donation’ is ten dollars per person.”
“So I guess that means that you’re going?” I asked.
“By the hardest,” she said. “Nobody really wants to go, but they’re afraid not to. Trust me, it’s not what you would call a ‘festive’ evening.”
“What do you wear to something like that?” I asked.
“Oh, you’ll see a variety of outfits – from casual, to Sunday best, to cocktail dresses,” she said. “I usually opt for the slightly-dressier-than-Sunday-best style.”
“Well, since I only have one outfit that fits that description, my decision is simple,” I said.
“The evening won’t be a total loss for you. At least, you’ll get to meet all the spouses,” she said.
“I’ve already met several of them,” I said. “Will you be bringing your mother?”
“No,” she said. “I did that once a few years back, and she was so miserable the whole evening that she told me if I ever even suggested that she go again, she’d disown me.”
She kind of giggled, remembering something. “In fact, what she said was that she’d rather I take her for a root canal instead.”
I laughed and said, “Sounds like something Mary would say.”
###
I’m not really what you would call a ‘party girl’. I feel very uncomfortable in a group of people – even people I know. I’m much more relaxed in a one-on-one situation. So I definitely was not looking forward to the Anatomy Christmas party, especially after what Amy had told me about it.
With the exception of the spouses or significant others that I had already met, I knew the people who would be there. It was bad enough that I had to be around them at work, but hanging out with them on a social basis was not high on my priority list. At least, Amy and Kate would be there. I’d just stick close to them. Kate’s husband had to work, so he wasn’t coming, which was disappointing because I was looking forward to finally meeting him. I told myself that I’d just stick around long enough to be seen, grab something to eat, have a drink or two, then leave.
Not being a very good cook, I had opted to bring something that didn’t require much time and effort on my part and, more importantly, that I couldn’t screw up. So I brought a veggie tray that I picked up at the local Walmart. Of course, I had to pay my ten dollar ‘beverage fee’, which really irked me because I don’t drink alcohol, and I can’t conceive of downing ten dollars worth of diet soda in two hours.
When I finally arrived at the address on the invitation, I just sat in my car, gawking at the house I was about to enter. Did I say ‘house’? I should have said ‘mansion’. First of all, it was located on a private street with a guard at the entrance gate. I had to show my invitation to even drive down the street. The house itself was huge, and the façade was made of stone. It looked like a medieval castle, complete with turrets – but without the moat.
I rang the bell, and a maid in a white and black uniform answered the door. She showed me to the ‘parlor’ and took my veggie tray. When I walked in, I was surprised at how many people were already there. In New Orleans, no one ever arrives on time. Being fashionably late is a tradition. But obviously that didn’t apply when you were summoned to the Roberts’ house for a party.
The inside of the house was as impressive as the outside – antique furniture, oriental rugs, oil paintings on the walls. I kept thinking, ‘How can he afford this on a medical school professor’s salary – even a department head’s salary?’
“Glad you could make it, Dr. Whitley,” a voice behind me took me by surprise. It was Dr. Roberts – all smiles – oozing Southern hospitality.
“Good evening, Dr. Roberts,” I said. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Please, make yourself at home,” he replied. “Food is in the dining room and the drinks are in the kitchen,” he said, indicating the next room where several people were making their way slowly around a massive dining table, sampling all sorts of dishes.
As he turned and walked away to welcome the next person coming into the parlor, I heard my name called, “Sarah. Over here.”
It was Amy and Kate. They had managed to find a corner of the parlor with some chairs, and they gestured for me to come sit with them.
“You look great,” Kate said.
“Thanks,” I replied. “So do the both of you.”
And they did. I’m always a little surprised at what people look like when they’re not at work. Not that Amy ever looked bad, but usually she was dressed more business-like. That night, she had on a colorful outfit that really showed her more feminine side.
It was Kate that I almost didn’t recognize. At work, Kate dresses like she would if she were home working in her garden. Sweat pants, T-shirts, running shoes – all of which are usually stained with some chemical from her research lab. But that night, she had on an attractive dress with fitted lines that showed off her figure. Up until then, I didn’t even know she had a figure. Her hair was clean and styled, and she even had on a little make-up.
“Anyone here I don’t know?” I asked.
“Well, let’s see,” said Amy looking around the room. “I think you’ve met Dr. Roberts’ wife, Lily, over there.”
Lily Roberts wasn’t dressed exactly as I expected after having seen her at the Anatomy Get-together. Her floor-length dress was very simple and rather dull when compared to the lavish surroundings of her home.
“And you know Janet and Tommy,” Amy continued, indicating the couple on the other side of the parlor.
Janet and Tommy were – what can I say – Janet and Tommy. They had certainly not spent much time thinking about what to wear. I guess you’d call their style ‘shabby hippy’.
Amy nudged me and said, “That’s Johnny Welsh’s wife, Georgia, over there. The young woman with the blonde hair.”
“His third wife,” Kate interjected, and the three of us smiled.
Georgia Welsh was definitely younger than her husband – maybe in her early thirties to Johnny’s late fifties. She was fashionably dressed in an outfit that emphasized her figure and youth. Trophy wife? I couldn’t help wondering if there would be a fourth wife when this one started to get a few wrinkles.
“There’s Omar and his wife, Veronica, talking to the Welshes,” continued Amy.
Both Omar and his wife were middle-aged, and their Hispanic heritage was obvious. At work, Omar liked to portray himself as a ‘macho hombre’ by making crude jokes and leering at the female students. I noticed he was behaving himself in front of his wife.
“And there’s George Wang and his wife, Lulu,” Amy said, indicating a couple just coming in the door.
In contrast to her tall stately-looking husband, Lulu Wang was a small Asian woman. I guessed she must be in her early sixties the same as George, but she certainly didn’t look it. She was dressed in a beautiful, but simple, Chinese-style silk outfit that I would have killed for.
“Have you met Bill Orrick’s wife, Muriel?” Kate asked. “She’s the woman by the table talking to Lily Roberts.”
I saw a frumpy-looking, middle-aged woman, who looked older than her years. I think I could have picked her out as Orrick’s wife anywhere because she had the same ‘life’s-a-bitch-and-then-you-die’ look on her make-up-less face.
“Who’s the tall brunette by the fireplace talking to Ronald and Marilyn?” I asked. “She looks like she’s posing for a camera shoot.”
The woman was in her thirties, almost six feet tall, and very athletic looking. She was attractive with an avant-garde hair style that fell over one eye. She was the only one in the room, other than Lily, wearing a long dress. It was made from a flowery flowing material, draped over one shoulder – very high end, very over-the-top.
Kate and Amy looked at each other, and Kate answered, “That’s Maxine – Sam Douglas’ wife.”
Just then, Sam walked up to his wife and held out a glass of red wine. Maxine looked at it, then up at Sam and said loud enough to insure that everyone in the room heard her, “What’s that? I told you white wine. Take it back and get it right this time.”
She turned toward Ronald and Marilyn and said disgustedly, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with that man. He never does anything right.”
Sam said nothing. Just turned and walked back toward the kitchen, holding the glass of red wine.
Needless to say, I was taken aback.
“Is she always like that?” I whispered to Amy and Kate.
“Pretty much. At least the few times I’ve been around her,” Kate said.
“I was going to feel sorry for her,” I said. “Married to a womanizer like Sam. But now I don’t. Now I kind of feel sorry for him – married to a shrew like her. Maybe that explains why he acts the way he does around other women. Explains it – but doesn’t excuse it.”
“Yeah,” said Kate. “I think there’s a name for their kind of relationship – pussy-whipped.”
I almost choked on my drink when she said that, and the three of us burst out laughing.
Trying to stifle her giggling, Amy said, “I think it’s time for us to get something to eat. Maybe if we stuff our mouths with food, we’ll manage to stay out of trouble.”
The food was wonderful, and the diversity of the dishes boggled the mind. I had to sample everything, even if I didn’t know what I was putting in my mouth most of the time. I have to admit, I overdid it as I struggled to find room on my plate for a little bit of everything, including a few veggies that I had brought.
The three of us had just got back to our seats in the parlor and were beginning to enjoy our food when Lily Roberts entered the room and announced that the party was now over. Please eat up. It’s time to leave.
I abruptly stopped with my spoon half way to my mouth. I checked out the mantle clock, and, sure enough, it was eight o’clock on the dot. They weren’t kidding when they said the party’s over at eight. Amy, Kate, and I looked at each other. We had two choices – eat as much off our plates in thirty seconds, or throw it all out on our way to the door. I opted for a third choice. I quickly took my plate into the kitchen, managed to find some paper towels, wrapped my food in it, paper plate and all, and stuck it in my purse to take home. When Amy and Kate saw what I did, they did the same thing.
Lily and Yancey were at the front door waiting to say goodbye and usher everyone out as fast as possible. The thought came to me that if we didn’t get out of there immediately, they might turn the water hose on us and wash us away down their very private street.
When we got outside and were walking to our cars, we heard Maxine Douglas’ voice behind us say, “Well, don’t just stand there. Go get the car and bring it to the front of the house, Sam. Do you expect me to walk half way down the block in these shoes?”
Amy turned to me and said, “Congratulations! You just survived your first Anatomy Christmas party.”