Alien in the House

Eugene clumsily shoved me into the table, he accidentally banged against Brewer, which ended up rocking the table. Fortunately nothing much went over, though Reyes’ water slopped around and Brewer had to catch Eugene who almost fell over onto the table.
    Eugene blushed, but was still intent to help me get properly situated. “Kitty, I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he moved my chair back so my stomach wasn’t shoved into the side of the table.
    What was it about this party that everyone wanted to whisper to me? Were all Washington dinner parties like this and, if so, could I hope to avoid them in the future?
    But once Eugene had stumbled back to his table, things went more smoothly. Being between Reyes and Brewer wouldn’t have been my first seating choice, but Brewer was always good for winery talk, and Reyes was big on New Mexico’s wineries. I was able to add in here and there, but the men were doing the conversational heavy lifting.
    Camilla was chatting with Senator McMillan, Jeff was chatting with Senator Armstrong and Kelly McMillan, Nathalie Brewer was engaged with Elaine Armstrong. So far, so good.
    Glanced around. The other tables all seemed fine. I spotted Caroline and Michael close by and they were the only A-C insiders at their table. How we’d missed stopping by that table was beyond me, but Whitmore’s bad attitude had clearly thrown off Raj’s groove as much as mine.
    Considering that Caroline worked for McMillan and Michael was an astronaut, they should have been with another couple from our side of things. Ergo, using my brilliant deductive reasoning, they were acting as Serene’s replacements. Wondered if I should get up to go say something to their table, but the possibility that Eugene would try to “help” me again seemed high, and one experience of that weirdness was enough.
    We had a five-course meal coming, which was great because by now I was starving. Appetizers were served, each person receiving an artfully arranged plate filled with bite-sized works of art. I almost didn’t want to eat mine. Did, however, and enjoyed. Chose not to agree with Brewer that a glass of wine would have gone nicely. We had a variety of sparkling water and juices that were covering the beverage side of things.
    The soup arrived, and it was delicious. My promises to every guest about the greatness of the meal seemed to be coming true, for which I thanked God and Pierre.
    It was during the salad course that Reyes started choking. The bad kind of choking. And after a few moments, it was clear he wasn’t getting any air.
    “Drink some water, Santiago,” Brewer suggested. Others offered similar ideas, and Camilla patted him on the back. Nothing was helping.
    Everyone looked concerned, but my high school had prepared me for this. I shoved my chair back, went behind Reyes, and did the Heimlich on him, being careful not to squeeze too hard—I wanted to open his airways, not crush his ribs.
    Performed the maneuver perfectly and a crouton popped out of Reyes’ mouth. My high school gym teachers would have been proud.
    “Thank you, Kitty,” he gasped. “My God, I seriously thought I was going to die.”
    “Do you need water?” Camilla asked.
    Reyes’ glass was empty. “Here,” Brewer said, “take mine, haven’t touched it.” He winked at me. “I only like the hard stuff, like my virgin piña colada here.”
    Reyes took Brewer’s water and drank it gratefully. “Thanks, Ed.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Whew. Dinner
and
a show, huh?”
    We all laughed, I sat down amid a small round of applause, and we finished the salads. Everyone at our table moved the croutons to the side.
    Talk turned to lifesaving and such, and I was called upon to explain my prowess with the Heimlich. Good schooling got interspersed with lifesaving as the main course arrived. As with everything else, this part of the meal was amazing, and I started to relax and enjoy myself. Once you’ve popped a crouton out of someone at your fancy dinner party, really, there’s nothing to worry about from a decorum standpoint.
    The conversation went from lifesaving to what we were afraid of. Shared my fear of snakes, which got a firm agreement from Nathalie, Kelly, and Elaine. Brewer claimed a fear of heights; Reyes felt that choking to death in public was now his fear; McMillan said that after war what he feared were closed minds, which got a lot of impressed nodding. Armstrong said he feared making his wife angry,