Wednesday, October 19, 2005
It was Alex’s last night in town, and as Pa’s been desperate for a dinner invite, Zoe and I threw a little dinner party. Dick, Joanne, Alex, Judy, Dani and Richard joined us last night and for the past week or so, Zo and I have been planning the dinner menu.
“You know what would be fabulous?” piped up dear Zoe. “Like, a rhubarb pie.”
“Okay. Great. No problem.”
The house was as immaculate as it gets, spectacular food smells wafted from the kitchen, and every candle within a 5 block radius was lit. The wine was breathing, our hair was bouncing and we enjoyed a pre-party drink before our quests arrived.
“I can’t wait for that rhubarb.”
The gang appeared, my mother’s laughter providing the doorbell, my father handing off an array of pumpkins, wine and sunflowers. Mom and Judy marveled at how adorable everything looked, Zoe and I agreed, and Dad and Richard engaged in a bizarre discussion no one else paid attention to. Alex found me and asked how Dani was doing. “She’s on her way!”
“What? She’s not in New York?”
“No! She’ll be here momentarily.” Delighted, Alex found himself another glass of wine and enjoyed some brie. Our party was a smashing success.
We gathered around the dinner table, laughing, eating and drinking for hours. It was marvelous. I felt like such a grownup, having my family over to my house with my fabulous roommate and my expensive wine glasses.
After dinner, we popped that rhubarb pie in the oven and Richard took a Vanity Fair photo shoot of “The Trifecta”, which is how Zo, Dan and I refer to ourselves. We were thrilled as we served up pie and coffee and conversation, and I surveyed the dining room. Filled with people I love and adore, I could not have been happier.
The gang piled out and Zoe and I attempted to clean.
“We did awesome.”
“I know! How fun was that!”
I snuggled in my cozy bed, full and drunk and felling wonderfully blessed. As I drifted off to sleep, there was a timid knock at my bedroom door.
“Beth? Are you asleep?”
“No. Come in here. What’s going on?”
“Something’s wrong. Richard’s on his way over.”
“What are you talking about?”
You won’t believe this, but Zoe ended up in the emergency room at 4am this morning. Why?
She’s allergic to rhubarb…
at 10:20 AM