Beans on toast

Beans on Toast

It felt like we were all standing in a room made of glass. No one was talking, and yet everyone was consumed. Every eye was fixed on its own device, intentionally avoiding any topic of conversation. I was pretty sure no one would notice if I wasn’t there. The thought lingered in my mind.

Maybe I could slip out.

Yet the room felt fragile. One move and the whole place would fall apart.

Was it me? I couldn’t help but wonder.

Am I the problem?

Maybe I should speak.

Okay, I’m going to do it.

‘Did ya see that story on the penguin that escaped the zoo the other day?’

Out of all things, I don’t know why I blurted that out. I wanted to shrink into myself and let the ground

swallow me whole. May I be consumed by my own regret.

It did not seem to make a difference.

No one flinched. Geez. I think I am going to go crazy. I’ve been here half an hour. Why did I even come?

Bar the fact my mother made me.

‘It will be good,’ she said.

‘Won’t it be nice to see your cousins again? It’s been a while.’

The answer is no. It won’t. In fact, the last thirty minutes have felt like an eternity. This is the first time we

have visited our cousins since the big fallout. I gave my mother an incredulous look. She glared back at me. I

think she got the message.

My mother and my aunt, her sister, had an argument over a miscommunication, and, well, it kind of exploded

into something more. You see, it started with my mum saying we were going to celebrate New Year’s by us,

since we had spent Christmas by Grandma’s. But somehow, in all of the back and forth, quite clearly no one

was listening to a word that was being said, because Auntie Pearl thought we were spending New Year’s by

them.

Well, all hell broke out. Two parties were planned, and nobody turned up for either.

Fast-forward a whole lot of blaming, bringing up the past, and eight months later, we are all standing in

Auntie Pearl’s kitchen. Nobody speaking. Everyone focused on a world outside these four walls, held in the

palm of their hands.

Come on, I’m only twelve. This is not what I signed up for. Adults really suck sometimes. They are always

telling us we have to play nice and get on with everyone. Then they do the exact opposite and, quite honestly,

demonstrate how well just ‘being nice’ worked out for them.

Or maybe Grandma and Grandpa didn’t tell them they had to be nice to each other and just get on. So maybe

it is really their fault for not teaching them the correct way to be around people, and now I am the one

suffering the consequences.

Not only is this a wonderful display of awkwardness, Dad didn’t come because he decided it wasn’t worth his

time.

Did anyone bother asking me if it was worth my time?

No, they did not.

So here I am, in a room where the atmosphere is below zero, dying to at the very least go outside.

Maybe I should just go outside. I mean, really. Would it make any difference if I waited outside for this

absolute joke of a visit to be over?

I’m going to do it.

I’m going outside.

Instant regret.

As soon as I pushed myself off the kitchen counter, my mother gave me the stare.

No words exchanged. Just one simple moment of eye contact that told me if I moved a muscle, the car ride

home would be less enjoyable than this moment now, if that were even possible.

I am not interfering.

I am twelve.

Why should it be up to me?

Then again, no one else seemed to care that the ice was thickening beneath their feet as the tension in the

room grew colder and colder.

Okay, that’s it.

I’ve had enough.

‘What we eating?’

Well, I had to say something. I just didn’t know that something would be throwing fuel on the fire of the

Cairns family war.

Auntie Pearl took the first punch.

‘Oh, now you want me to make ya some food. Well, you were perfectly happy to eat your mother’s food the

last time. Isn’t that right, Shirley?’ Auntie Pearl looked at Mum but carried on before she could respond.

‘I had laid out a nice spread for you. Hours and hours I slaved over that meal, and for what? For it all to go to

waste because your mother is incapable of paying attention to the one thousand text messages I sent her

about the meal I was preparing.’

Well, that did it.

The ice that had begun to freeze over the place suddenly turned into molten lava.

‘Don’t you speak to my son that way!’ Mum so delightfully joined the conversation.

‘I will speak to him however I want. He might actually have a chance in life if I impart some motherly wisdom

into him.’

‘EXCUSE ME!’

Why?

Just why?

Why do adults hold on to grudges? Why do they use their kids as ammo? Why is it that the pettiest

arguments are always the cherry on the cake, sitting on top of a whole list of wrongs they have secretly held

against each other?

I did not sign up to be a product of my family’s trauma.

I am over this.

‘ENOUGH!’ I shouted so loudly I even surprised myself.

Apparently, I also sent a shockwave throughout the kitchen, because now we had moved from ice, to lava, to

thunder and lightning.

Everyone was staring at me.

Well, since I had an audience, there was no point in stopping now.

‘What the actual fudge are you doing? Mum. Auntie Pearl. I have had enough. You… you sort out your own

problems. I’m just a kid, and look, Andrew and Paula are over there, and you’re making a scene in front of

them. Geez, would ya catch yourselves and stop dragging me into your mess.’

I turned to Auntie Pearl.

Andrew and Paula stared at me with a look that said, why are you bringing us into this?

Well, I wanted to know why I was the only one being mentioned. Maybe because I was the only one stupid

enough to care how stupid this whole event was.

No one spoke, so I thought I might as well continue.

‘You two are adults. Get over yourselves and start acting like it.’

‘Jack!’ Mum said, obviously very surprised at my abrupt behavior.

‘Don’t “Jack!” me.’

Quite honestly, I was surprised at my own bravery.

‘I am done. This has been going on too long. Get over yourselves, make up, and move on.’

The only thing that could have cut through the loud silence at that point was someone’s trainer accidentally

squelching on the ground.

Much to my surprise, Auntie Pearl decided to act as that squelchy trainer.

‘I’m sorry.’

Mind blown.

Who knew all it took was a twelve-year-old kid having an embarrassing outburst of pent-up emotion? Even if

it sounded like a reluctant apology, it was an apology all the same.

‘Jack’s right.’

Mind double blown.

Mum, stubborn as ever, still wasn’t budging.

Auntie Pearl decided it was her turn for a monologue.

‘It’s just, I was so angry with you that day. Every good occasion we’ve had in the last few years has been

celebrated at your house, Shirley. Think about it. Mum and Dad’s fiftieth wedding anniversary. Dad’s

seventieth. All the barbecues. We even all went to your house after Andrew’s graduation ceremony. My own

son’s graduation, Shirley. I mean, really.’

Auntie Pearl paused. She looked tired, as if she had used all her energy justifying her actions, and yet she still

continued.

‘Every single family photo is either by Mum and Dad’s or yours. I want to build memories in our house too. It’s

not like we live far away from each other, for goodness’ sake.’

This was the first time I had heard Auntie Pearl speak in a rational manner, and to be fair, she was making a

good point.

Mum, stubborn as ever, still was not budging. Double still.

Auntie Pearl made a dramatic move towards her, grasped her hand, and, with a level of theatrics that made it

seem like it was rehearsed, made a plea to my mother.

‘Come on, Shirley. What do you want from me?’

Mum, only now starting to defrost, relaxed her shoulders.

‘Well, that’s how I felt when the kids were born. I felt all of the early memories were in your first house. It was

like nobody wanted to come to my house. We were the ones always making the effort. It was always us who

had to pack the bags, get the kids in the car, and come to you. It would have been nice if, once in a while, we

didn’t have to make all the effort.’

There it was.

The admittance of silent withholdings, unspoken for such a long time that they had been allowed to brew and

mull over, to the point that they were starting to sound like freshly cooked truths, all pitted in a salad of lies.

I could literally see the lump of pride being swallowed down my mum’s throat before she spoke again.

‘Look, I’m sorry too.’

Mind triple blown.

Am I a genius? Did I just resolve nearly a decade of family conflict? Doesn’t look like my family needs a

therapist. They just need me.

Auntie Pearl made a sprightly movement that swept through the place with the warm comfort I have only

ever experienced from hot chocolate.

‘Well, I think it is time that we make that lunch then. Right, Jack?’

I’m starting to wonder if this is all a dream, or maybe I was hit by a bus and I am now in heaven.

My Auntie Pearl being nice to me?

My Auntie Pearl, warm and smiling?

It was apparently infectious, as a smile snuck out from the corner of my lips as she said it.

Well, I had solved a great family crisis. I think I could be bold enough now to ask for anything.

‘Beans on toast?’ I blurted out, with much more enthusiasm than the dish deserved.

It just seemed like the most appropriate lunch for the resolution of family drama. Warm, comforting, tasty,

and, more to the point, easy to make, as I had no idea if Auntie Pearl could actually cook, since all the family

occasions had ended up being by our house.

But I was not going to say that part out loud.

The rest of the day was spent in silence.

But this time, it was a warm silence.

The type of silence that muffled the sound of two sisters chatting and reminiscing, which I honestly don’t

think they had ever done before.

The type of silence that isn’t really silence at all, but a peace inside yourself when the waves of anxiety have

been crashing against the broken boat for so long that it just feels quiet now.

Auntie Pearl put plates on the table. Beans on toast.

Nothing fancy. Nothing worthy of a family photograph.

But Mum took a bite, and Auntie Pearl laughed at something she said, and Andrew and Paula looked at me like

I had either ruined everything or fixed it.

Maybe both.

And for the first time that day, I did not feel like I was standing in a room made of glass.