The table next to us

“I laughed so crazy”, Ellie shouted in a pause for breath. “Just like you described it, horrific”.

“Terribly fat for his age”, said the mother. “Perhaps he should go on a diet. By the way, Rita, do you know if he’s completely healthy?”

Rita sat up straight and held onto the seat with her hands. She said: “Oh, I think he’s healthy”. “Just like you said, soft as a newt, like mud”, added Nanni. “And his hands too, so soft.”

“But he’s got something kind too”, said Ellie. ”Yes, Rita”. “I think he’s got something kind, really”. “Well”, said the mother. She also began to laugh again and ashamed: “Very nice, but horribly funny. You didn’t promise too much, Rita, you really did not”. Now she laughed out loud. “He also has dewlaps on the back of his neck, like an old man”, said Nanni. “He’s so fat, so soft, so soft”. She snorted from her short nose; her small face looked puffy from laughter. Rita held onto the seat. She pressed her fingertips firmly to the wood. “He’s got something insecure”, said Ellie. “I think he’s so nice. I don’t know why, but he is just kind”.

Nanni screamed and threw her hands on the table; the knives and forks clinked on the plate.

“Me too, really, I think he’s nice too”, she exclaimed. “I could always look at him and disgust me”. The father came back the restaurant, closed the restaurant’s door, and brought in cool, wet air. “He was so scared that he would miss his bus”, he said. “So scared”. “He lives with his mother”, said Rita. They all blurted out, now Ellie too. The wood under Rita’s fingertips became sticky. She said: “His mother is not quite healthy, as far as I know”.

The laughter swelled, piling up in front of her up, waited, and then lunged, it washed over her and hid her long enough for a little weak peace. The mother was the first to manage to recover. “But that’s it”, she said, her voice trembled, she wiped her eyes and lips with a lump of handkerchief. “We can finally talk about something else”.

“Oh”, said Nanni. She sighed and rubbed her little belly, “oh I’m done, my God. When will the big fat jellyfish come back, say, Rita, when?” Expectant glances were eyeing Rita.

“From now on, he will come more often”, said Rita. She held her head up.

“I got engaged to him”.

Nobody moved at the table. Rita laughed tentatively and then, with a great effort, she could do it louder than the others, and she exclaimed: “Just imagine that; I’m

engaged to him! Isn’t that laughable!”

They sat well-mannered and serious, carefully moving knives and forks.

“Hey, Nanni, aren’t you grateful to me? I got engaged to the jellyfish, imagine that!”

“He’s a nice guy”, said the father. He’s polite, you can’t say anything against that.”

“I could imagine”, said the mother gravely, “that he is humanly pleasant, I mean, as a housemate or something, as a family member.”

“He didn’t make a bad impression on me eighter”, said the father.

Rita saw them all sitting there carefully, she saw tamed lips. The red spots on the faces lingered for a while. They bowed their heads and ate dessert.

If my story confused you, I will now tell you the background. I went to that fancy restaurant near my house in Frankfurt last year. I took the picture that you can see above just before going inside. When I look at it now, I always remember the family that was sitting next to me and my parents. Their conversation was the most shameless, embarrassing, and inhuman thing I have ever experienced. By the way, to write that story, I came up with some random names, because I do not know their real ones. But that is not important for the story. I still think about them a lot. Is Rita still engaged to her boyfriend? How is the relationship between them and the rest of the family?