I stepped out of my classically manicured estate situated overlooking the crystal, smooth Atlantic Ocean on the first of July. The day was filled with sunshine and I can remember the slight sea breeze blow my hair ever so slightly, dancing around the shoulders of my lilac cashmere shawl. I skipped towards the cream vehicle gliding up the gravel that crackled underneath the movement of the tires. It approached me as I slipped into the door and took my seat next to Elizabeth. Procy, which I’ve nicknamed Elizabeth ever since reading The Crucible, was lounging carelessly with her feet dangling out the window. Sophie with both hands firmly locked on the wheel was paying close attention to the winding roads leading us to the Taconic Club. We came across the imposing distinctive gates of ornate metalwork in the shape of the aurora that was beaming overhead.

The three off us hopped out of the Audi, passed the beds of flourishing sunflowers, and into the grand foyer. The two girls rushed into the dining area, as I lagged behind absorbing the halcyon scene. I greeted the beaming woman holding the double doors open for us, the same smile was always plastered across her visage. This time, however I noticed that her heavy makeup was masking a serve sunburn.

The hostess showed us to our usually table covered in gold linen, freshly picked flowers, and sparkling silverware. We exchanged jokes, and filled the air with laughter and our mouths with bread until the basket lay barren at the center of the table. Elizabeth resolutely beckoned towards a nearby waiter.

“May we please have some more cornbread?” she asked with previous crumbs across her blouse. The waitress grimaced. Her eyes narrowed and seemed to fixate on a spot above Elizabeth instead meeting her gaze. Slouching to the side with her weight thrust on her back leg, her mouth opened before she blurted in a drawl, “Erhhhhh, I do not think we have any more. Sorry.” She turned and sauntered off. We leaned forward and in hushed whispers, discussed the impossibility of this ever occurring, for it was only have passed noon and how could a country club run out of homemade bread at peak meal time?

After a moment of mutual discontent Elizabeth summoned another waiter over, a youthful-looking girl whose fair skin suggested she had never seen the light of day.

“How can I help you girls?” the new waitress asked.

“Hello, we were wondering if by chance we could have some corn bread?” Elizabeth asked hopefully.  The three of us glanced at each other for the moment of truth.

“Yes, of course ladies, just one moment!” As she went towards the kitchen, she was stopped by the previous waitress who took hold of her arm and whispered biliously in her ear. I could see that the captious waitress’s countenance looked acrid and sallow. I tried to keep out of their business and return to the conversation between my friends beside me.

In two minutes, a newly baked basket of cornbread was placed on our table by the waitress we were partial towards, only this time her expression was sullen and morose. Without hesitation, three hands dove towards the center basket and dropped the golden bread into our salivating mouths. I turned towards Elizabeth and watched as her completion turned from ruddy to pallid. Suddenly she sprung from her chair and an emptiness glazed her aspect, but for a second I swear I saw a burning fire smoldering within her pupils.

“ I’m feeling faint--I must lay down and rest.” Elizabeth whispered with look of uncertainty. Then she exited the dining area and headed for the ladies locker-room, leaving Sophie and me alone with the waitresses.

“I hope Procy is alright,” I said with concern as my eyes wandered around the room. Aside from our table the indoor restaurant was devoid of other diners, for they all seemed to be soaking up the sun. Sophie nodded slowly in agreement when her lips momentarily pursed as her finger pointed towards the nearby window. As my eyes trialed the direction of her finger I saw that it was not the window she was referring to, but another waitress. Her leg and arms were outstretched as she drew back the curtains, and she stood on tiptoe exposing a dark blue sun on the flesh of her ankle. The tattoo was prominent against her tan skin and for some reason both Sophie and I were transfixed by the symbol. Our infatuation was broken by the shadow of an arm that came over to refill our water glasses. I had a strange urge to look down and inspect this waitress’s ankle, and I knew Sophie had the same compulsion.

There! There it was! The same swirling rays emerging from the ink sun were imprinted on her ankle, on the same place as the other waitress’s. Immediately, and a bit frantically my eyes scan the room and were astonished by the number of midnight blue tattoos covering the ankles of almost all of the staff members. All but one. The sweetly smiling childlike waitress did not appear to be apart of this “cult.”

“Did you see all…” Sophie began before I cut her off.

“Yes, I did,” I answered without hesitation. “What do you think it means?”

“They must be part of some secret society,” offered Sophie.

Elizabeth returned to the table looking drained and unenervated. Bags sagged under her vacant eyes and her hands and face lacked the warm of blood. A shiver ran down her spine as she struggled to grab her clutch and mouthed faintly, “Let’s go home.” The two of us followed Elizabeth as she stumbled towards the parking lot before collapsing in the back seat of the car.  

            The lady who greeted us on the way in held the door for us as we exited. While she was gripping the knob, I saw that her hands strongly resembled Jackie’s frail and unsanguine ones. Holding my breath, I gazed down and saw what I knew I would fine—another blue tattoo. She smiled a cynical smirk as I rushed past her on my way out.

That evening, we attended to Elizabeth’s every want and need, sitting through the night and calming her screeches and screams. No ice could tame her raging fever or cool down her burning temperature. We had never witnessed such a type of illness or the kind of electric pain that Elizabeth suffered. The doctor we called had no recollection of any case such as hers’ and said it would be better for him not to return and risk spreading the contagion to his other patients.

Three days of this ritual continued for three days and three nights. Even if Sophie and I had not contracted the disease, we were bitterly exhausted and looked almost as worn as corpses. As a rule, we never left Elizabeth alone, but one morning we both headed downstairs to the kitchen to cook a nourishing breakfast for our friend who barely moved, trying to get some life back into her. As we were busily preparing eggs, pancakes, bacon, toast and orange juice, we suddenly heard the splash of something heavy in the swimming pool. Trying to determine if what I heard was reality or just a daydream, which had been occurring quite frequently, I stepped outdoors into the sunlight for the first time in three days. I dropped my plate as my mouth opened wide when I saw where the noise had come from. To my astonishment, Elizabeth had just dove into the pool and came out of the water dripping wet, seemingly health and full of vitality. Her skin glowed with more color than I had seen even prior to her sickness.

“Procy, hh… wha… you.. how did you get better?” I stammered.

“What?? I was just a bit tired.” Elizabeth laughed a bit cluelessly.

I began breathing heavily and shook my head in utter disbelief and confusion. I started to back away as I felt my heart sink within me and I swallowed as hard as we had gulped down the cornbread just a few days prior. I almost fainted but caught myself on the burning brick below my trembling legs and turned back to see Sophie with eyes as wide as her gaping mouth below. I once again turned to follow her wide gaze that was fixated on the extremely sun kissed skin of Elizabeth’s legs which were lounging against a wicker chair. Then I saw it.