In a family the size of mine, you have a birthday party almost every weekend. “Can’t we just get together once a season?” my sister once asked my mother. “And then celebrate all birthdays at the same time? That way you at least have time for yourself.”
My mother said that time for yourself was not the intention of family.
And so on Sunday we were eating lactose-free cheesecake in a well-intentioned party room. After one of the great-aunts exulted at how much my oldest cousin (17) resembled her mother (someone whose head looked like a somewhat roughly scrubbed sweet potato on sunny days) he pulled my sleeve and told me that I had a headache and that he was safe. would bring home. My sister joined because someone with a headache you have to escort with at least two people.
On the train back, the cousin asked if I had seen him chatting with everyone.
“You gave everything,” I said. “And seemed to be having a great time.”
“Nice. I’m always afraid that I’ll fall through the cracks.”
“How so?”
“Well, actually I usually don’t care what people tell me,” he muttered, “I always get a little bit of imposter syndrome when someone talks to me. They will soon discover that I am bored to death.”
‘Oh, but everyone has that,’ said my sister, the psychologist. “Most conversations are just conversational duties, after all. Rarely is it about something substantial, let alone something fun.” “Which does not alter the fact that it is still important that you pretend to listen!” shouted my cousin quickly.
“Oh god, yes,” my sister nodded. “If they realize that they don’t care about you, they immediately take it up a notch.”
“Then they will talk much louder and put their hand on your arm and stuff,” the nephew shuddered.
“So really, we should just keep our mouths shut at parties,” I suggested.
“Are you crazy?” my sister hissed. “Then everyone has time to think.”
“Just chat a bit, don’t get too quiet, and so sit out the hours you are obliged to spend in company,” my cousin said lightly. “Otherwise you will only get hassle.”
“What kind of hassle?” I asked concerned.
‘Bye,’ said mother and son in unison, after which I did not continue to ask. I soon discovered what was hiding under all those little things. Considering all the chatter Sister and Cousin were willing to go through, it had to be something terrible.
“Really nice weather today”, I said and they nodded with relief. Clouds of the finest pearl gray floated past gently and graciously.
Ellen Deckwitz writes an exchange column with Marcel van Roosmalen here.
A version of this article also appeared in NRC on the morning of April 5, 2022