The Interlopers
It was summertime. Loud talk and laughter floated through our apartment’s open windows and down to the street. Guests continued to arrive for hours — neighbors and old friends, my husband’s coworkers and their mates, all the people we liked best.
When the door opened and a beautifully dressed Hispanic couple stood there smiling, holding a small gift, I stared for a moment. I called over my shoulder, “Honey, come say hi.” My husband moved to greet the charming couple, welcoming them in. He doesn’t know who they are, either, I thought.
For an hour I moved to each of my guests, casually asking if they knew who’d invited the pair. No one knew them. Uneasy, I approached the couple, who were laughing and talking with one of our neighbors, and waited until the woman noticed me. She touched the man’s arm and they both looked at me expectantly, moving closer together as the other guest wandered off.
“Please forgive me, but remind me who invited you to our party?” The two exchanged a glance. At last, the woman spoke. “I told my husband: lying to a pregnant woman is a sin.”
My uneasiness spiked into fear. What did they want? Panic began to rise and I felt the baby in my belly stir. My instincts told me these interlopers were a threat. I needed to get them out of my house.
The couple then quietly explained, using the most careful euphemisms I’d ever heard to describe the act of sex, that they had come here to round up candidates for an orgy. “We heard the music and noise from down on the street,” the man said. “We counted the windows and asked the elevator man to take us to the party on the eighth floor.”
“But we have decided not to organize tonight,” the woman reassured me, patting my hand. “A pregnant woman is a powerful force for goodness. Disturbing that power would be very bad for us. We will find opportunities elsewhere tonight.”
Stunned, I glanced about the room, looking for my husband. But then the man started tapping on his glass, and all eyes turned to the tall stranger in the center of the room. Someone pushed my husband forward and he took his place beside me. He said nothing but his eyes were wide.
“To this beautiful couple, about to embark on a new life with their precious baby,” was how the toast began. It was lovely, the kind of toast your brother-in-law might give at your wedding, minus the embarrassing anecdotes. The couple continued to cast beatific smiles our way, as if they’d known us all their lives, as if they were special to us and we were to them. The air shimmered with their cordial warmth. Our friends raised their glasses and toasted us and the new life growing inside my belly. And then the couple graciously and swiftly took their leave to a chorus of goodbyes.
“Who are those amazing people?” our best friend said. “I hope you invite them again.”