The Blackmore Heights Bookclub

“Sit down, ladies.  We are about to begin.”  Sharron looked around her living room at the six other women huddling to find a seat as though she was the mother duck and these women were her young ducklings.  Each woman dressed themselves in their Sunday best and each with a book tucked under their arm, as Sharron demanded. 

“I hereby start this month's meeting of the Blackmore Heights book club.  This month, in celebration of spooky Halloween, I chose for us to read the great monster classic novel, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley…”   Sharron beamed as she continued to speak.  She loved being the chair of the Blackmore Heights book club.  It gave her such pride in her small community.  A community she had created from scratch as if she was making a birthday cake for a very special person. 

The Blackmore Heights book club started with three members one night ten years ago over a bottle of Merlot. When Sharon realized the two other women had never read Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn.  She insisted they read the marvelous novel and four weeks later, Sharron organized a meeting in her living room and the Blackmore Heights book club was born. 

After that, Sharon spread the word to all the women in the neighborhood.  Being sure to include a list of rules she required including dressing formally, bringing a copy of the book, taking part in the riveting discussions, and most important rule of them all, being on time. It then became a ritual for the first Tuesday of every month. 

As the small neighborhood changed and families moved in and out of the homes, the membership for the Blackmore Heights book club waned and grew. But each time the town brought a new woman to the Blackmore Heights neighborhood, Sharron would appear promptly on the doorstop with a basket of muffins, as it was the neighborly thing to do, and invite the woman of the house to the Blackmore Heights book club.  It was not until the new neighbor had accepted that Sharron would include the list of things that she expected from the woman as a new member of the Blackmore Heights book club. 

Standing in her living room before the other woman, Sharron paused, distracted by something out of the large picture window.  The six other women turned to see what was looking at.  All the women turned to see Glenda’s slight frame, running up the walkway as fast as she could, wobbling in her six-inch heels with the book in hand, the monster of Frankenstein staring back at the women.  Glenda disappeared for a moment and the front door swung wide open as Glenda appeared in the foyer off the living room. 

“Am I late?  Have you started yet?” Glenda asked, breathing hard.

The women stared at her, all of them fearful for Sharon’s reaction to the late arrival.  Three months ago, Judith was five minutes late.  Sharron was sure to make a spectacle of it and then for the next meeting of the Blackmore Heights book club, Sharron hired a large bouncer to make sure Judith could not enter the residence of Sharon Thompson on the first Tuesday of the month.  Rumor has it, Judith had posted a lengthy ad on Craigslist looking for women in town to join her at her own book club.  Sharron was not one for tardiness and the Blackmore Heights women well understood it.

But Glenda was new to the Blackmore Heights book club.  She had moved into the neighborhood only two months prior after her husband’s company transferred him from three states away.  Sharron brought over a basket of muffins and extended an invite to Glenda to join at the next Blackmore Heights book club meeting. 

Sharron blinked twice at Glenda standing in the foyer before opening her mouth and said the single word, “yes.”

Glenda took a step into the living room taking a seat next to Debrah.  Debrah scooted over, shooting Glenda a dirty look. 

“I’m so sorry for the interruption.  Continue with the meeting,” Glenda said, leaning forward and grabbing a potato chip from the bowl on the coffee table. 

“Let’s continue the discussion we were having before Glenda rudely interrupted.  Where were we?  Oh yes, what message was Shelley…” Sharron said, trying to keep herself calm.  Then glancing up at Glenda. The loud crunching coming from Glenda distracted Sharron yet again.  

Glenda brushed the crumbs off the front of her white blouse with a downward motion of her hands, and with a mouth full of chips, “I’m sorry.  Was I crunching too loud?” 

Sharron closed her eyes, revealing her perfectly applied gold eyeshadow, and blew out a breath from her painted lips.  When she opened her eyes she started again. “What message was Shelley…” 

“Hey,” Glenda said in a stage whisper, as she elbowed Debrah.  “Do you live around here too?”  She shoved another handful of chips into her mouth.

Debrah raised her eyebrows looking at Sharron out of the corner of her eye. 

“Do you have something you would like to say about the book?” Sharron’s laser sharp eyes pointed at Glenda.

Glenda shook her head.  “As a fellow neighbor, I just thought it would be nice to know more about you women.  That’s all.” 

Sharron licked her front teeth, “we are here to talk about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.  Not to discuss ourselves.  You can do so after the meeting has concluded.” 

“Can I ask one thing before we start?” Glenda asked, raising her hand.

Sharron looked back at Glenda and with great annoyance said, “what?”

“How long does this usually take?  I need to take my cat, Mittens, to the groomer at noon.” Glenda gave a single nod.

“Out!” Sharon said, face as red as a beat and eyes as wide as a cantaloupe, pointing out the front door.  “You are no longer welcome at the Blackmore Heights book club.  And don’t bother coming to the neighborhood watch meeting either.  Get out.” 

Every mouth was open to catch any fly who dared to enter.  Glenda stood, grabbed her bag, and walked towards the front door.  The woman could hear the sobbing coming from the small woman.

Glenda opened the front door, but before stepping out, she turned around.  “I only wanted some friends in Blackmore Heights.” She spun around and closed the door behind her.

The woman watched her teetering on her patent leather pumps out the large picture window and walked to the white Mercedes parked on the street.  The car scraped against the sidewalk before making its way onto the empty tree-lined street and away.

Debrah wiped away a single tear, “All she wanted was friends and you delivered her this nightmare of a book club with a million rules.  I quit!”

Murmurs of “I quit too,” filled the room.  And soon enough Sharon stood alone in her living room, Frankenstein still held in her manicured hand.

“I didn’t mean to enforce so many rules.” She said to herself taking a seat on the floral ottoman in the middle of the room.  “I just wanted order and for everything to be perfect.  But what I really wanted was friends too.”