There are three tables. One’s by the pool, the other’s by the gate, and of course the third one’s in the middle. As the guests arrive, they reach for the familiar; the beer, the roasted meat, their friends. They then sit and chat, laughing, sharing stories, catching up… With their familiar. They’re not doing anything wrong. They’re enjoying a party, that’s all.
I stand at the gate, coming down from the apartment with more glasses. I’m looking at my friends. We’ve just met a popular artist and they’re basically all over her. I want to laugh; definitely one for future reference, this scene….
I see it then. The three tables
The three groups
Laughing, cozy, happy
Harry’s with his buddies from the Club. I’m with Bridge, Hannah and Elena’s posse. Harry’s next door neighbor Ranjit is with his wife and a few guys he’s met once. The languages are fluid but the attitudes are similar; comfort, relief, a sort of joy (drunken or otherwise).
We didn’t do anything wrong, you see, we all just reached out for the familiar. Turns out the familiar looks, and talks, like us.
We did nothing wrong. We did what was natural. We did what we knew.
Nothing wrong with that, right?