HELLO EARTH (Part Two)

W.S. couldn’t understand why inviting some of the most eminent men in their field, and their wives, to our apartment for a party presented a problem. “You don’t have to fuss,” he said. “They are all nice people.” “What do you mean I don’t have to fuss? Those nice people are going to write job recommendations for you. You go to the grocery store, while I find some extra seating. We can’t ask them to sit on the floor!”

I ran to the Salvation Army Store and bought a bench and three cushions, and prayed that none of the people coming weighed more than 80 pounds; because I didn’t know how much weight the bench could hold. I jammed it into the living room, and arranged the seating as best as possible. I figured that once everyone arrived, I could put a couple of folding chairs in front of the entrance. Since our windows were inoperative, we could open the other door if we needed oxygen.

After he returned from the store, W.S. took one look at me and decided to stay out of my way, which wasn’t difficult since only one person could stand in our kitchen at the same time. I prepared the food while W.S. set up the bar.  He had purchased wine, beer and a large bottle of cheap vodka. “Who drinks vodka?” I asked.  “I don’t know,” W.S. replied. “But, I figure we can put out orange juice and tomato juice and that will cover the teetotalers too.

Everyone arrived on time, except Professor Nutting and his wife. I tried my best to keep our guests on their feet until the Nuttings arrival by conducting tours of our apartment, because once everyone was seated, we couldn’t open the front door. I could only take two people on tour at a time, so there were lots of ups and downs until the Nuttings finally entered, shaking snow off of their coats. Mrs. Nutting was a stern looking woman, who wore granny glasses with braids tied across the top of her head.

“Would you like a glass of tomato juice?” asked W.S. “Hell, no, Sonny,” she replied. “It’s cold out there. Give me a martini.” “She wants a martini,” he whispered into my ear. “What do I do? We don’t have any vermouth.” “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll fix it.”  I poured a slug of vodka over ice, dropped in two green olives and handed it to Mrs. Nutting, “I hope you like your martini dry.” She downed it, asked for another, and told me that I made the best martini she had ever tasted.

The bench was holding, people were talking to each other, and the food was a hit. Even though it was cold outside, the little apartment was heating up, so I opened the back door. Snow was beginning to pile up against the screen. “It’s really snowing out there,” I said, but everyone ignored me.

Two hours later, they decided to leave. Snow had piled up against the front door, so they had to exit out the back. By now, the snow was pretty high against that door too. Mrs. Nutting gave it a little push, but nothing happened. “Here let me do that,” said Professor Nutting.

At that he shoved the screen. It fell out. Mrs. Nutting fell out, and Professor Nutting fell on top of her. W.S. stood frozen against the wall. Horrified, I asked, “Are you both all right?” Professor Nutting stood up, brushed himself off and said, ”We are obviously better off than your screen door.” Mrs. Nutting just sat in the snow laughing. The other professors and their wives gingerly stepped over her on their way out. “Don’t worry about me,” she said as he helped her up. “That’s the most fun I’ve had in years.”

W.S. and I watched them disappear into the night. As I closed the door, W.S. looked at me and said, “I hope she didn’t strain herself.”

I punched him in the arm.

Esther Blumenfeld, CROSSING WITH THE BLUE LIGHT, Blumenfeld c. 2006