The Woman in White

You learn a lot when you pick up waiter gigs during the holiday party season. People are so busy being merry and bright they tend to overlook you as you dart about with trays of tasty treats and sparkling spirits. This means you hear lots of juicy snippets shared between celebrants. Now, it’s a given there will be snarky gossip and cutting judgements, but you really don’t expect to witness a vicious manifestation of regret and shame. 

It began when a woman dressed in white arrived fashionably late. A soft hush fell over the handful of party-goers who first noticed her enter the front door. That was quickly followed by a ripple of murmurs as they speculated who she might be in relation to the host of the event.  

The lithe lady moved silently, her chin tilted so her eyes were shyly cast down. She wore a flowing dress that fell just below her knees in a softly angled drape from her covered shoulder. The other shoulder was bare, her skin pale and nearly translucent. Silver glinted in the folds of the skirt and silver glitter was lightly scattered in the waves of the sable curls spilling down her back. A portion of her hair hung forward in a way that obscured most of her face, though a pert nose and full lips creased in a small smile were visible. She slipped past in a graceful way that failed to stir the air, leaving an eerie stillness in her wake. 

The woman glided through the gayly lit foyer and fluidly faded into the people milling about in the main living area. I lost sight of her then, but I soon found people were aware of her presence everywhere she went. 

Stationed squarely in the garland-draped threshold of the study at the front of the house were two older, dour ladies with pinched lips and their noses hoisted in the air. The small study was the first space people passed as they progressed deeper into the residence and thus a great place to take stock of everyone arriving. The ladies’ beady-eyes narrowed and tracked each person passing by while two drab men stood stiffly nearby with their hands in their pockets. 

I subtly moved in and offered a tray of appetizers as one of the ladies whose carefully coiffed locks were plastered into place asked the other “Do you recognize her?”

“No,” she replied, staring across the room where there was a quick flash of white skirt, “Not at all. We should find Callista and ask.”

“What’s it matter?” piped up one of the men, likely the husband of the shellacked hair lady since she frowned as he stabbed a cranberry meatball on the tray with a toothpick. She then heaved an annoyed sigh when sauce dribbled down his chin as he stuffed it in his mouth and chewed. Signs of a long-suffering spouse, for sure.  

“She must have submitted a guest list to the HOA,” firmly answered the other lady, swatting at her own husband's hand as he tried to reach for a sweet and tangy meatball. “It’s required so the gate guard can know who to allow in.”

“Well then,” offered the first man as he absently wiped his chin with a napkin, “it’s surely someone on the list.”

“She better be,” grumbled his wife. “We’re exclusive. Not just anyone can wander around here.”

“We should find Callista and ask,” repeated the second woman with a sour scowl. “Just to be sure. She’s not a very attentive host. She wasn’t even here to greet us at the door. It was some work assistant or such.” 

The mystery guest was next noted in the dining room where a long table loaded with candies, savory hors d'oeuvres, creamy dips, and charcuterie boards was set for eager grazers. I was methodically moving about the table sweeping away crumbs and noting anything that needed replenished when I heard her mentioned. 

“Who is that lady in white?” asked a handsome, jolly fellow as he plowed into a group of fellow young people and draped his arms around two of them. He wore a brightly colored reindeer sweater festooned with ribbons and bells that made him stand out among the more refined dresses and suit coats. “She smells. Real bad. Like musty body odor and dirt.”

“What, were you over there sniffing her, Rory?” teased a short, dainty girl with a smirk that showed off her cute dimple. 

“Nah, but you can’t miss it. It’s kind of jarring. I mean she’s so beautiful you don’t expect her to stink.”

“Are you sure it was her?” another girl asked. 

“Pretty sure,” Rory answered with a quizzical scrunch of his face. “I caught a whiff, saw a flair of white, and then she was gone.” 

“Probably scared her off with that sweater,” joked one the guys Rory was leaning on. “Isn’t that what you wore to the company holiday party?”

With a wide smile, Rory shimmied his shoulders, setting the bells on it jiggling. “Yes, it is. Callista missed that bit of mandated fun so I figured she could be treated to this beauty now, but I haven’t seen her.”

A very polished, sloe-eyed woman shifted her hips and leaned in toward the middle of the group, grabbing their attention. “Frankly,” she said, “I'm surprised she is even hosting this party. She’s been such a flake at work lately. Missing appointments, forgetting deadlines. She comes in late and leaves early. I even heard the partners had to redo a presentation pitch she was supposed to make to a client last week.”

“Well, she’s not really hosting this party, is she?” sneered a trussed up and glossy red head. “Amelia put it all together.”

The short, dainty girl blushed. “ I told her I didn't mind. It was last-minute and she needed help to get everything organized.”

“Those bright stars always flame out,” chipped in one of the guys. “I mean they come in hot and ready to take on the world, but in the end they crash and burn.” 

“Callista has been a top performer since she joined the company three years ago,” argued Amelia. “She really puts in the hours and effort. It’s just lately she’s kind of struggled. I think she may be sick.”

“Really?” asked Rory, taking his arms down from around the others. His jovial mood dampened slightly. “Hope it’s nothing serious.”

Amelia sadly shrugged and looked down. “She had me make an appointment with her doctor for after the new year.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but she has really lost weight,” said the red head. “Her face is so gaunt and there’s always dark bags under her eyes.”

“And she’s such a slob anymore,” added the polished lady. “I mean, she used to be so put together, so stylish. She had an eye for sophisticated and classy without being too aloof. It’s a great look for work. Very professional, you know? Now, I wouldn’t be surprised if she rolled in wearing stained sweatpants and flip flops.”

I was back to circulating among the crowd, offering drinks to those in the living room when the woman in white was noticed yet again. Three very statuesque women paused in sipping their themed cocktails as they struck a pose between the heavily decorated Christmas tree and the fireplace where a pair of fuzzy, red stockings were hung. 

“Did you see that woman in white?” asked one of the women with slick platinum blonde hair.

Another with a honey blonde updo rolled her eyes about the room as she tipped her glass to her glossy lips. “Where? What woman?” 

“Over there,” the platinum blonde said as she gestured vaguely toward the back of the room. “Oh. I can’t see her now.” She lifted on her tiptoes and scanned the people milling around. “Maybe she went down the hall? I tell you, we crossed paths a moment ago and a chill hit me so sudden it made me shiver. It was creepy.” 

The third woman, an ash blonde, snorted. “That Santa’s Sparkler is making you dramatic. How many have you had already?”

The platinum blonde giggled. “This is only my second one.” She lifted the flute filled with a bubbly red drink and garnish of a sugared rosemary twig in a toast. 

“Forget your woman in white,” replied the honey blonde, “I’m wondering where Callista is hiding. I spoke with her yesterday and she was really distracted, spacy. She didn’t even remember at first that tonight was her own party.”

“She hasn’t been herself lately,” the ash blonde said with a practiced pout. “I stopped by last week and she had the house all locked down. She only came to the door after I repeatedly texted her that it was me on her doorstep. She was so twitchy.”

The honey blonde hunched her shoulders and shifted closer to the other two. “Her mom and sister are worried, too,” she whispered. “I talked to them earlier and they said she avoids them and rarely answers their calls and texts anymore. She doesn’t even go to their famous Sunday brunches.” 

“Oh no,” cried the platinum blonde. “Their brunches are so fun. Callista never used to miss one. She even took me along a couple times when we lived together in the sorority house.”  

“Yes, well. It sounds like depression,” said the honey blonde with a sage nod.

 “She might even be harming herself. They said they noticed scratches on her arms, like claw marks but she doesn’t have a cat or know anyone with one.”

The ash blonde tsked and shook her head. “I hope it’s not like the summer we interned together at the end of college. She was a mess before it was over. She started off really wowing them and was even invited to a weekend retreat with senior leaders. I was so jealous, but she came back a lazy, moody bitch.”

The platinum blond paused in tipping back her drink. “Wait, wasn’t that when that young woman went missing?”

“Yes,” responded the ash blonde. “She was a real pretty thing from a neighboring town. Long, dark hair, big doe eyes, full lips. They found her dead on the retreat property, deep in the woods. It was terrible. She was naked and horribly beaten. They said she died from exposure and that animals had gotten at her before she was found. Callista has always said she never knew anything about it, but I wondered.”

“You think she saw the girl but never said anything?” The platinum blonde’s eyes went wide. In response, the ash blonde leaned in close and grabbed her elbow. 

“I heard the police questioned a number of the men at the retreat,” the ash blonde confided. “The ones known to have unofficial after-parties. The cops thought maybe the woman was a guest at one and things got out of hand. You know how powerful men are, they think they can do anything they want with anyone they want.”

The platinum blonde gave a small gasp and her tone rose in disbelief. “But Callista isn’t the type to go to those things. She can be ambitious and a go-getter, but if she saw something, she’d say something.”

“I don’t know,” said the ash blonde with a casual shrug of her shoulder. “Clarissa really wanted to impress the senior leadership. She might stay quiet if she saw them take the young woman off somewhere or maybe heard them talking about it after.”

 “You don’t think that’s what happened, do you?” The honey blonde raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in consideration.

“Whatever went down, she wasn’t the same after that weekend and her work suffered. Yet she still got top tier references at the end of the summer. She told me she used them to get her current position.” 

The party was winding down and I had made my way upstairs as part of the clean-up. Toting a bus bin on my hip, I was snagging empty glasses and any discarded plates when I caught a strong waft of decaying garbage and earth. I was glancing around for its source when I spotted the mysterious woman in white paused in the doorway of the far bedroom. She faced into the shadowy room but turned at her waist to look toward me, her dark eyes peeping coyly over her shoulder with the lower part of her face hidden from view. 

“Hey!” shouted Amelia, startling me as she stomped past me. “Hey, you can’t go in there. That’s Callista’s room.” Rory was following in her wake, but paused next to me. 

 The woman in white remained framed in the doorway, but she suddenly seemed to lose substance, her image fading and wavering before disappearing altogether. It was surreal. Amelia froze mid stride, and I stayed rooted in place, struggling to believe what just happened. Amelia cast a wide-eyed look at me and Rory then cautiously approached the room. She no sooner stepped across the threshold than a piercing scream ripped through the air. 

I dropped the bus bin and ran to the room with Rory on my heels. No one was in the bedroom itself, but curled up in a ball in the far corner of the walk-in closet was a thin, naked woman with her knobby knees drawn to her chest. She rocked back and forth, mummering to herself. A shiny, gold party dress was in shreds all around her and the woman in white loomed behind her.   

Amelia had dropped to her knees just outside the closet. Keeping her eyes on the menacing ghostly figure, she slowly reached toward the cowering female and softly whispered “Callista. Come here.”

The woman in white glared at us, her mouth hideously elongated and gaping like a dark abyss. She sinuously wrapped her arms around Callista and clutched her close. She let loose a shrill hiss. Her hands shifted from having long, elegant fingers into gnarled claws, the sharp tips of which sunk into Callista’s flesh. 

Callista shivered. She stared at Amelia, but didn’t really seem to see her. Instead, her head was canted as if directing her attention to the creature holding her. “I’m sorry,” she whined. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t.”

The woman in white growled, low and threatening. The sound gave me goosebumps and made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. She then, in a flash, slid her claws down Callista’s arms, cutting thin ribbons into her skin where blood welled up. 

 Callista gasped. “Ok. Ok, it was,” she hurriedly amended. “It was. It was my fault. But they made me do it. They made me. They told me to take care of it. To deal with it. I thought you were already dead, otherwise I would have called for help.”

The woman in white suddenly shoved Callista forward with such force she landed sprawled on her belly with a thud. With a sharp-pitched screech, the woman in white ripped her claws down Callista’s exposed back. Callista cried out, pain twisting and contorting her face as the three of us yelled for the woman in white to stop. 

“Please,” Callista panted. “Please. I’m sorry. I just wanted you gone. I stripped you, burned your clothes, and left you in the woods. There, I admit it. You were going to tell and it would have ruined everything. I had already given them so much, let them do so much. I needed them. All you had to do was go along with them. Let them touch and have their fun. But you wouldn’t do it. You just kept crying and pushing back. That’s why they beat you so badly. You wouldn’t give in.”

The woman in white’s gruesome mouth twisted, lifting up into a warped, misshapen facsimile of a smile as she took a handful of Callista’s blonde hair and used it to savagely rip her head back and expose her neck.  

“Please,” Callista begged, choking on sobs and panicked breaths, “Forgive me. Please. Forgive me.” 

A ghastly pale hand stroked Callista’s neck once, twice. Then, before Amelia, Rory or I could comprehend what was about to happen, the woman in white slid a claw across it, smoothly slitting Callista’s throat. 

#ReedsyHoliday