a tale of roasted figs

Thursday, September 19: Creative writing day: write a (very short) fictional story that starts with this sentence: "To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century."

   

To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century.  Why on earth had I decided to plan this event?  It started innocently enough, I swear.  As I started getting things ready, I was certain it was destined to be a train wreck.  With carnage. 

I tugged on the thickest socks I could find and put my heels on.  I started clunking around the house, standing on my tippy-toes and basically trying to turn my feet every which way.  What was I thinking when I bought these?  Yes, they were amazing shoes.  But yes, they were also way too tight.  This wasn't going to be the sort of party where I could kick my shoes off once people got comfortable, so I knew I had to break them in if I wanted to wear them.  Sure - I had other shoes I could wear, but let's face it... appearances counted tonight and everyone knows that shoes can make all the difference. 

 

I hobbled my way into the kitchen, stopping to turn up the music along the way.  "Alight, already we'll all float on...." It doesn't matter how many times I hear that song, I always sing along to the top of my lungs.  

 

I  poured myself a glass of wine and propped my iPad against the tile back-splash.  I ignored my crumpled toes and scrolled to the roasted fig and goat cheese appetizer recipe I had "pinned" to my recipe board.  Her voice echoed at the back of my mind.... "Don't do anything fancy for us!  We are veggie and dip type of people!"   Yeah, right.  I'm sure she would have loved to see some Cool Ranch Doritos and crackers with a tub of spinach dip.  If I was being honest, that is what I wanted to do.... unwrap some Slim Jims, have one of those giant tubs of cheese balls and maybe something else that she would find unappealing - something chock full of GMOs, high fructose corn syrup and preservatives, just so I could hear her go on and on about how she would never put that sort of crap in her body.  But I'd gone to three different grocery stores to get the EXACT variety of figs (plus they looked delicious in the picture) so we were going to have roasted figs with goat cheese.  I had to admit that the menu I'd planned was pretty impressive, - especially on such short notice.  I only wished I would be enjoying with anyone other than this group of people.  

As I finished prepping the figs and got ready to stick them in the oven, my phone rang.  I tried to rinse the goat cheese off of my hands so I could grab the phone, but I don't move very fast when I'm wearing wool socks with 4 inch heels so I didn't get there quick enough.  I wiped my hands on the dishtowel and touched the screen to see whose call I missed.  When I saw his name, I couldn't believe it.  Why on earth would HE be calling?  "Maybe he'll leave a voicemail," I said out loud.  The 10 seconds it took for my phone to indicate that I had a message seemed like an eternity.  I had that weird feeling in the pit of my stomach and almost tossed the phone aside - why deal with it now if I could deal with it later?  But I knew I had to listen to it.  I dialed into my voicemail and prepared myself for the worst...