(The Riddle of the Sphinx)

Wendy knew just what she wore to that dinner because it was the last time she ever spoke to her friend Minnie Carter and everything about that night stayed with her.

She wore a short silver lace dress lined with pale pink and ice green and beige satin sling back shoes with long toes that came to a sharp point.

Her friend Sandra, who never complimented her, ever, had admired the dress and so did the army captain Sandra brought along just to throw everyone off balance. Wendy had already tried that once by having a Jesuit priest from St. Anthony’s Academy at one of her dinners.

It was a small dinner, seven couples, all of whom knew each other or had known each other long ago except for the captain, whom Sandra was writing about for some magazine. Sandra also brought her fiancé so that made the group fifteen.

The cocktail hour went on and on, so Wendy finally sat herself down on one of the sofas and, in the most anti-social way possible, watched everyone drink and chat, drink and chat, laugh and drink and chat, drink and, when the chatter ran out, look towards the dining room where the double doors remained shut.

Minnie Carter was drinking rum, straight. She banged her glass down on the waiter’s silver tray and picked up the new drink he had brought her. Spotting the real drinker of the group, the waiter was most attentive to Minnie who long ago had been a beauty, famed for her Hollywood mother and her 20-inch waist. That was in the wonderful era of wide belts, her heyday, when she had hair down to her waist and kohl around her large staring eyes, and a big reputation for breaking hearts and rudeness. Now, she was some sort of decorator and, with her husband Sam in tow, had run out of hearts to break.

Rum, even disguised in tropical drinks in faraway places, had always given Wendy a headache, and she looked on with wonder at Minnie Carter.

“Oh, pardon,” she said to Sam, who was next to her now on the sofa texting surreptitiously. “My stomach rumbled, I’m afraid.”

“Believe me, I understand,” he looked to the dining room and rose to go over to Minnie who was lifting a fresh glass.

“No,” she said when he tried to take it from her. “Stop!”

There was a pause in the room at the slight intimidation of drama to break up the boredom clinging to the dun colored walls.

What bad paintings, and are we ever going to eat, Wendy thought. Living on Park Avenue, even if it was a back apartment, they might at least have fixed that crack in the ceiling. From the hors d’oeuvres, and a cabbagey haze aloft, she had little hope for their dinner.

Finally, a hand reached out and opened the double doors to a long long table covered by the kind of old fashioned cloth one used for the holidays.

“Fantastic!” Minnie said, “Soup!” She was carrying her glass and, shaking it, nodded to the waiter.

The dining room was in fact the library, and they were surrounded by the coziness of old leather books. The captain with a lot of medals and bars on his uniform was seated between Minnie and Sandra who had her fiancée on her other side. Wendy looked across the table at Sandra’s ring now in full prominence. It was a seven carat rectangular stone turned horizontally. Why? Just because it was a trademark of some famous jeweler, she supposed.

Thom, the host, was on his feet welcoming everyone. He thanked the captain for his service and congratulated Sandra on her engagement, her third if anyone was still counting. All of them had counted.

Wendy turned to her right and began talking about the show she had seen at the Frick that afternoon just so she might have something to discuss at dinner.

Some kind of chicken dish, already plated, was being lowered. It was covered with mushrooms and bits of what Wendy hoped but doubted were truffles.

“Let’s all go around the table and say how we met our husbands and wives.” Minnie was saying.

A silence pregnant with misery fell over the table.

“Oh, no, I think we would all like to hear from Captain Carr about his time in Afghanistan.” Sandra said.

“No, I insist.”

“Really Minnie, no one wants to…” said Sam.

“I’ll start. Or maybe we can tell riddles. I’ll start with one.  What is it that has four feet in the morning, two at noon, and three at night?”

No one seemed to know until the Captain said, “I believe that is the famous riddle that the Sphinx posed for Oedipus. Am I right?”

“You sure are, honey.”

“Oedipus answered it correctly and then the Sphinx went off and killed herself. The answer is man, who crawls on four limbs in the morning…

Minnie started to get up from the table. Holding her glass, she went over to one of the bookcases and pulled out a thick volume covered in red leather.

“Tristram Shandy by Laurence Sterne.”

“Those are my mother’s books,” Leana, the hostess, said in a tone of warning. She sounded panicked. Her mother, who had gone to book auctions all her life all over the world, had just died and left her the books.

“I collect and so did my second husband.”

“That is a very valuable book, a Golden Cockerel edition. Would you please put it back.”

“It’s not really valuable at all,” Minnie said.

Sandra was twisting her ring. Under the table Wendy crossed and uncrossed her legs. All the men were silent. Among the easily bored, this was becoming an evening to be retold.

“The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, with fifteen engravings on copper by J.E. Laboureur… “ Minnie read out.

“Man, who crawls on four limbs as a baby…” said the Captain trying.

“We have three editions of this book at home. Believe me, it’s not important.”

From the other end of the table, Thom watched his wife’s face folding up, as it did when she was close to tears.

“Leana’s mother bought most of Maurice Wertheim’s collection, she traveled to many auctions. All the books have great worth, especially to Leana,” Thom said.

“Well, bully for her.”

“Man, who walks upright on two legs as an adult,” the captain continued, thinking of drones whistling through the desert nights, and his boys fighting for all that was home to them.

“I wish we had some adults here,” said one of the men.

“Fuck you. Let’s go back to how we all met. I met Sam at Mortimer’s or maybe it was P.J Clarke’s. He picked me up off the floor literally. It was so amusing. Your turn, Wendy.”

Wendy remembered her speech class when she would pray for the bell to ring before the teacher could get to her. She had willed everyone ahead of her to go on and on and had watched the clock with her hands tingling and her mouth drying up. Often, she would have a coughing attack and, choking, have to leave the room. She felt her face flaming up and looked to her wine glass which was empty.

“It sounds bad, but we met when Michael was …

“Quite married,” Minnie said.

“Yes, married but we didn’t see each other until he separated.”

“If you are going to lie…”

“Let’s hear from Michael.”

“This is unpleasant”

“I think it is really fun. Let’s continue around the table.”

The Boorstins, who were a bit older, had met when Florence’s brother took her to Henry Boorstin to buy an engagement ring for his fiancé. Henry, a bachelor of thirty four who until then had only dated show girls, had a large wholesale diamond business but was doing a favor. He thought Florence was her brother’s fiancé because she was trying on all the rings and she seemed so excited. The brother asked Henry when he was going to get married and he said he would right away if he could only find a girl like Florence.

“I had another boyfriend and I said I would marry whichever one of them asked me out first for New Year’s Eve,” Florence said. “Well Henry did and he arrived with a 4 ½ carat diamond. We were married that January 16^th and I managed to have all my clothes made in that time.”

“Ver’ sweet,” Minnie said and burst into tears.

Some kind of giant desert bombe covered with halved strawberries and blueberry dots was making an appearance.

“We didn’t finish yet…” Minnie said wiping her eyes with her napkin while still managing to hold her glass and the book.

“Man, who in the evening of his life, when he is old, walks with a cane, so on three legs,” said the Captain. “The Sphinx killed herself when she no longer could strangle the men who failed her.” And he stood to take the book from Minnie and put it back very carefully where it belonged on the shelf.

 

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