Rows of grapevines stretched as if they had been planted right to the edge of the world, only bothering to stop at the foot of the mountains, which had been turned into a patchwork quilt of red and orange. There was always something atmospheric about the height of Autumn, and that evening in particular happened to fit the mood perfectly, with the dimming sun giving way to a mass of navy clouds that had begun to creep in from the north.
It had been hot and sunny in the few days which preceded this one, back when Liz had asked if she could join me to visit the new sandwich shop around the corner on our lunch hour, and invited me to see about joining a local women's club between bites of her Italian hero.
"It'll be a great chance to get out and meet some new people. You probably get a little lonely, since you moved all by yourself across the country, and you don't know anyone here. You're pretty brave, I would never have the guts to do all of that."
I've been hesitating to admit it to myself, but she was right. Especially with Halloween in a week, it became clear very quickly that I had nowhere to go out, and even if I did, I had no one to go with. All I seemed to do ever since I took the job teaching literature at one of the city's colleges was go to work and come straight back to my cozy studio apartment, too exhausted from the day to do much else. If I didn't change something soon, I'd be on the burn out list by Thanksgiving.
"And you'll love the other girls. They're really a lot of fun. It's a dinner club that meets once a month just outside of the city at an old vineyard and tavern. We get dressed up and eat a nice dinner together, talk. You know, the usual stuff. Nothing too crazy. And of course we also do a lot of charity work for the community in between those meetings too, so you'll be able to meet a lot of new people. And who knows, maybe you'll find yourself someone special," Liz scrunched her button nose and chuckled. "Sometimes one thing leads to another..."
"All right... It's good to try new things I guess, and that actually sounds like fun. I'll just go and see what's going on for a bit, and if I like it, maybe I'll join. Thanks for inviting me." I could feel my jaw starting to relax a bit. I rolled my shoulders, "What's the name of the club again?"
"It's called the Black Stays Dinner Club. It sounds kinda weird, but the club is super super old and I think the name comes from the corset looking thingies the members would wear over their dresses to meetings back in like 1707 or something. I don't think they really cared a lot about the specific name of the club back then, so here we are. What can ya do?" She shrugged.
"Huh. I knew you said it was old, but I didn't know it was that old." I fought the urge to avert my gaze from her face.
Liz quickly put down her lemonade, "Oh, but the other girls aren't stuck up or anything! Don't get me wrong, of course there are some members who have had their grandmas and great-grandmas or whatever also be members back in the day, but it's definitely not like one of those clubs."
"Oh! Ok. That's good. I got kind of scared when you first said that, but if it's not really like that, then we're probably fine." She had almost made my heart sink at wasting my time on a prospect that wasn't going to happen, or worse, something potentially traumatizing.
"Yeah, no, no it's not like that at all. But listen, just make sure you come to the Fox & Lamb Tavern and Inn at 6:00 Friday night to meet them and see for yourself. I'll text you the details so you don't forget." She paused, her voice growing a little softer as she gently placed her palm down on the table between us, her slightly watery eyes finding mine, "I think you'll like them." Then she brightened back up,"Oh and wear a plain white dress, something with long sleeves preferably. Who knows, they might even give you your first stays that night, and that's what usually looks best underneath."
So, I did go see for myself. That's all I had to do was go see, right? And if it wasn't for me, then I could always just make my excuses and leave.
Around 5:00pm I set out, driving to the tavern Liz had described, out in the country. I had looked at the menu ahead of time, and apparently it was quite a popular place to stop for dinner, an old pub a mile off of the bay that had been running for over two centuries.
As the darkening clouds up above continued to swirl and fly past me, picking up the damp wind and moving it through the fluttering leaves of neatly-planted rows of grapes, droplets of rain began to hit the windshield, hard. So hard, I thought it might crack the glass. Ping! Ping! Ping! Was it hailing? Nah, couldn't be. My weather app said there might be a short shower but nothing much to worry about.
I started to regret settling for the old white summer dress that had sat at the back of my closet instead of just buying a newer, warmer one. The afternoon had been almost unseasonably balmy, but the temperature was starting to dip and now it seemed the dampness was beginning to reach my bones. The muscles in my arms tensed, trying to fight off the chill that was slowly seeping in through the car vents.
In all honesty, I thought to myself as I barreled down the highway, something about just the idea of this club, with its black corseted uniform, and its pedigree, seemed a little...unsettling. But only a little, and maybe that was because it felt simply too elitist for my usual tastes. In any case, every time I went over each detail that seemed to bring up a question, there was often a good answer that followed. Weird club costume? Just physical proof of initiation, lots of social clubs all over the world have those: hats, garments, banners, you name it. There's probably a box at the clubhouse with a bunch of those ordered off a website for ten bucks each before tax. Member pedigree? Well the city is small enough, and quite a few large families have been here for generations, so this is only natural. I'd even asked around the college about the club, only to be met with claims of complete legitimacy. It's even known throughout the city for its charitable works. When broken down into the details, the whole situation checked out.
Other than that, something about being a part of this semi-secret club with its peculiar traditions was exciting, intriguing even. The group seemed to be rather normal underneath all of the oddities. From the outrageous club gossip Liz would occasionally hint at, to the audacious characters that seemed to feature in every story, I just couldn't stop thinking about it all week, wondering about it, no matter how hard I tried. It was like watching a train wreck, but instead of having a front row seat to the spectacle, I was behind twenty rows of people. Even if they didn't end up accepting me into the club, I still got a full social calendar for the next month, and some sort of twisted verification that there did in fact exist a group of women as messy as the ones Liz whispered about.
Pulling into the gravel parking lot and cutting off the engine, I sat for a minute before going in. "Make some new friends, Julie. Just make some new friends tonight, and soon your social dry spell will be over and you'll finally be able to settle in. Be yourself, be nice, and make some new friends." It was a chant I always did as a kid when I was forced to enter a new social scene. It usually worked.
It was five minutes to 6:00 by the time I entered the warmth of the old tavern. The mood was cheery inside, with a steady hum of people laughing and talking, huddled around rickety wooden tables. A handsome young bartender was busy pouring pints while telling stories to a couple of animated college students sitting at a rough wooden counter, and a roaring fire was crackling in the far corner of the room over an indie rock soundtrack. The smell of roasting beef and potatoes mingled with the clinking of cutlery and glasses that seemed to bounce off the suit of armor at the back of the room, next to the fire.
"Welcome to the Fox & Lamb. How many?" the bartender shouted over the din from his post.
"I'm meeting with the Black Stays Din—"
"Oh. Right." His smile fell a little, but then he regained half of it a beat later. "Walk right up the stairs at the back, they're in the upper private room." He gave me the once over, knitting his brows, his frown deepening the longer he looked at me, before turning back to his storytelling audience, a full smile plastered back onto his face.
I stood frozen for a minute and looked to the side before thanking him. That was odd. Maybe I shouldn't...
I turned to walk back out the door.
No. You need to meet some new people, you're calling your mom too many times a day, and you're already here. Don't let your fear ruin a fun thing.
I forced myself to turn back around and do just as he said. One foot in front of the other. I needed new friends. I couldn't go another weekend sitting in my room alone, exhausted. I needed to fill up my cup.
So, I made my way to the back, tiptoeing slowly up a set of stairs so narrow and so steep, a moment's loss of balance would send even the strongest of us tumbling back down what was already a dark tunnel of old wood.
The only light at the end was the door at the top of the stairs, left slightly ajar, a dim glow filtering out and heating up my face as I gripped the doorknob. Holding my head up high and smiling brightly, I pushed it open and walked in.
A floorboard creaked under my foot, and all at once, the few overlapping melodies of feminine chatter halted abruptly as everyone's head whipped toward the entryway. They stared sharply, and I dared not move under the weight of their collective gaze.
I recognized Liz in the group of five women, and for some odd reason that I had never considered before, she seemed to fit right in, elegantly holding her glass of wine with delicate, well-manicured fingers. They were all wearing white dresses with long sleeves under what I would assume were the black stays, the strings tied so tightly in the front, it gave them all an almost ramrod straight posture. It would have been funny if it didn't make their already rather tall and slim statures, look even more imposing. They were all very attractive women though, almost uncommonly so.
"There she is. Finally, we can eat," the nymph-ish looking one spoke flatly, heading to the ornate wooden table in the center of the small room.
"Don't be rude to our guest, Charlotte. I'm glad you could make it, Julie. Come, sit. You can sit here at the foot of the table as our special guest, and I'll introduce you to everyone." Liz's usual bubbly nature was able to at least put a dent in the room's oppressive atmosphere.
The room was small, and sparsely furnished in an old English manor style, with smooth, dark mahogany paneling, emerald damask chair cushions, a pewter pitcher full of dried flowers on the mantle of a blazing fireplace, and a worn Turkish rug. Candles on top of candles were the only objects illuminating the room besides the fire.
Everyone else seemed to know exactly where to sit, and once the woman at the other end of the thick rectangular table rang a bell, a rather dull looking young man—whom I could only describe as being... or perhaps I should say... well, something about him was incredibly gray and almost lifeless— knocked on the door and entered, bearing a tray of soup bowls, and began to go around the table serving each guest and refilling wine glasses, silently.
Once he left in the same silent manner, the woman who rang the bell gave an almost unnoticeable tilt of her chin, and the others immediately lifted their spoons to the bowls of pumpkin bisque, the clinking of dinnerware being the only sound to break up the lack of conversation. The raucous laughter and music from the floor below was a constant hum in the background. I'd give my first paycheck to be down there at the bar, with a pint and a funny story from the bartender guy right about now. Liz told me these things weren't all that formal...
The clinks of porcelain against steel cutlery were deafening, and as the minutes crawled by, five pairs of eyes shot hidden messages back and forth across the dinner table. They slithered around and around the table, often stopping to settle on me, until finally returning to the meal in front of them, as if we were all riding some sort of unnerving merry-go-round.
Head permanently bowed over my soup, the base of my neck prickled. Why was the fire in here so hot? It was almost unnaturally warm, far surpassing cozy, and the excess of candles obviously didn't help. Couldn't they get someone to blow some out or open a window? I remembered the room when I first walked in, and there was no window, just the single, closed door behind me. Don't they feel the heat too? Some of them were even wearing sweater dresses more fit for the cooler weather than my thin linen dress. I knew they must be hot, but no one else around the room seemed to fidget. The air was still, and I tugged at the collar of my dress a bit as a bead of sweat trickled down my spine.
"Ah! Sorry about that, Julie, I told you I would introduce everyone, didn't I? Just a few of the ladies could make it today," Liz laughed to my right. She smiled brightly with the palm of her hand faced down on the table, the ring finger tapping a slow but silent rhythm. One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four...
"Uh, sitting on the other side of you is Mary. She is a vintner, along with the rest of her family. A few generations, I think. She gets us the good stuff," Liz pointed to the young woman sitting on my left, a brown-eyed redhead with a milky face and a pleasant smile. So, I smiled politely back.
"Then on the other side of Mary, that's Charlotte." Oh, the rude, nymph-ish one. She didn't even bother to look up from her glass, instead opting to raise her eyebrows a millimeter in acknowledgement with the wine still in her mouth. How nice. I nodded.
"Next to me is Veronica. She's a seamstress who runs her own shop. Actually, she makes the black stays for the new club members. Quite talented," Liz pointed with her thumb. Oh, so maybe the club costumes weren't ordered online for ten bucks each.
Something about this woman in particular was interesting to look at. Tanned with dark, thick eyebrows and curly hair to match, her eyes were oddly the most mesmerizing I had ever seen. There was nothing unusual about them, they were a dark brown, just like her hair, but something about them was sharp and soothing all at once, I struggled to look away from them.
"And at the foot of the table is our president, Helen." The woman who rang the bell was elegant, with inky hair neatly tied back, and an air of authority about her, though she too gave me a pleasant smile.
"It's very nice to meet you, Julie. I'm glad you could come. Liz has been telling us all about you, and it seems as though you might be a good fit for our little organization. I promise we have more members than just the five of us, but some of the girls couldn't make it out tonight, I hope you don't mind," she apologized smoothly as she finished her soup amidst the silence. By her tone, I could tell that it didn't really matter if I minded or not.
I gave her a tight smile and a stiff shake of the head. Honestly, what time was it? It seemed as though our silent dinner had been going on for hours in this sweatbox. At least I could still hear all the excitement happening downstairs, with chairs scraping the floor, a crash of silverware, and more drunken laughter, muffled by the door behind me.
As if hearing my thoughts, a quiet knock sounded on the door and once again the young waiter with the tired face entered bearing a roast dinner of beef, potatoes, carrots, asparagus, and a loaf of crusty brown bread on large platters. It was a wonder he could carry it all. The door remained open as he served the dishes to each guest, letting in the fresh, cool air and sounds of conversation from below. Taking in discreet deep breaths before he could leave and close the door again, I wished for this terrible dinner to be over. At least we were at the main course. All that was left after this was maybe dessert, and then I was back at my cozy apartment snuggled in my favorite blanket, watching Singles Island.
Once he left, closing the door behind him, the secret glances continued. No... I thought they would stop with that! More beads of sweat ran down my back and I looked up from my plate. The glancing around the table had ceased as everyone ate, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Mary had been running her forefinger around the rim of her wine glass for the longest time. Around, and around it went, with her staring into the crimson liquid, mouthing something. There was something in the bottom of her glass. The remnants from the bottom of the bottle? What was that? And what was she saying? Was she talking to herself? Even though I sat next to her, the table was too long to make out any words. At least nothing in clear English.
The more I studied her out of the corner of my eye, the more my stomach began to twist, the roast beef turning rancid and sour in my mouth, unwilling to be swallowed. Nevertheless, I forced it down my throat, as my shaking fingers gripped my knife and fork.
Perhaps she was just giving thanks for her food.
The muscles in my thighs were tightening though, as if begging me to spring up out of my seat and dash to the door. The steel knife felt so hot in my hand that it almost burned, and by now, beads of sweat begun to collect at my temples.
They haven't even said anything yet, and group dinners were always awkward affairs. Don't let your social fear ruin something that could turn out to be nice.
"So, Helen, you're the club's president? What sorts of things do you all do? I hear you do quite a bit of charity work. Are there any events coming up soon?" I asked. Anything, absolutely any sound was better than the nothingness of the lavishly decorated cell we were sitting in.
Before Helen could answer, Veronica cut in, in a low voice directed down at her plate, "That's why we asked you to come tonight. When one leaves, we get someone new to make up the numbers. One in, one out. She won't be the president for much longer, she's... moving on."
How cryptic.
"I see. Where are you going to, Helen? Did you get a new job opportunity? If I may ask," I questioned politely with a forkful of potatoes heading toward my mouth.
Apparently, it was taboo to ask, because all five pairs of eyes slid down the table toward me in the silence. Something was slightly sinister about the way they looked at me, each pair of eyes matching the one beside them, even Liz's. They all looked exactly the same.
Then, Helen's gaze flew to Veronica, who returned it and gave a minute shake of the head, almost regrettably. The other three followed, shaking their heads slightly, as if thinking they could remain discreet about it. Helen sighed, as if tired. "Perhaps not. But on the other side of things, even though she's timid, she has great energy," she muttered. An uncomfortable minute passed, the tapping of Liz's long nail against the hardwood table, the only sound. One. Two. Three. Four.
I set down my fork.
Get up, Julie.
Wait.
Where was the muffled laughter? The conversation and music from downstairs?
What time was it? If I walked in the door precisely at 6:00pm and the tavern closes at eleven, then what time was it for downstairs to be so quiet all of the sudden?
The heat in the room had become maddening. There was no water to be had anywhere on the table, so I picked up my wine glass by the top and drained the remnants, hoping for some sort of temporary relief. It was as if the last of the good air in the room was being rapidly sucked out through the dark crack under the door. Had everyone downstairs truly gone home?
After apparently coming to a consensus, they all turned toward me again, faces sullen, as if they had suffered some great inconvenience, and immediately all of the candles and the blazing fire in the hearth, were extinguished, save for only the few candles running down the table.The room plunged into semi-darkness, and with it, the temperature.
Get up and run, Julie.
I wanted to kick my chair over and get out of that dark and silent tavern, and just go home. I should have just stayed home. I just want to go home.
But I couldn't get up and leave. My thighs tensed in preparation to rise, but couldn't seem to shake the sluggishness that had come over them. It was as if someone was sitting in my lap, holding me down to the chair, strapping me to my seat. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingers as they gripped the arms of the chair. And as I struggled to—
What was that?
What was coming up off of the floor from Helen's side?
What was that?
Some thing, and I could only call it a thing because it was neither person nor animal, was crawling—no, slithering up onto the table next to Helen. Some sort of...some sort of snakelike man, large with its limbs attached at odd angles and bent close to its sides, was slithering up onto the table and dragging itself toward me. Inch by awful inch, it slithered down the long, ornately carved table, its withered nails and crooked gray arms jerking its body forward at an agonizing pace.
Liz's finger continued to tap quietly, for it had never truly ceased the entire dinner.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Now that thing had passed Veronica, the candle in front of her plate sputtering and flickering, leaving the room in a disturbingly undecided state of half darkness, half light. Just enough to see what must be seen but not enough to truly see.
I struggled against the chair, against myself to get out of the chair, tipping it this way and that, but it simply would not budge.
Or was it me who would not budge? Was it me who was too frozen to run? The door's so close, it's right behind you.
GET OUT OF YOUR SEAT AND RUN, JULIE!
I could not run. I couldn't focus enough to do it. For some reason I could not will myself to run, like I could force myself to do so many other things. And still that thing kept slithering, inch by terrible inch down the table as my hands shook, my arms thrashing at the sides of the chair to rip my body out of it.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Now it had reached Liz and Mary, inch by miserable inch as it slithered, dragging its emaciated torso down the table toward me. Liz pressed her lips together and blankly looked past Mary, at the wall.
One. Two. Three. Four.
"Liz, help me! Liz! YOU BROUGHT ME HERE, DO SOMETHING!"
Hot tears were streaming down my face as I choked on the frigid air, the despair starting to set in, my body shaking all over, as still the thing dragged itself toward me inch by dreadful inch, down the long table.
One. Two. Three. Four.
It had passed Liz and Mary now, their faces bathed in the half darkness of flickering candlelight, as it continued to drag its body by the fingernails, inch by wretched inch.
Until, with one final sapless grunt, it reached my chair.