Semi-successful proposal

“What?!” screamed Mum. Did I mention I like her high-pitched voice?

Have you ever been part of an extremely embarrassing meal with your family? Well, I have.

Dear Reader,

I would like to ask for your advice. How on earth do you manage to control your family? I don’t even know whether families are manageable or not. Mine is not, believe me, I know, and I will tell you why.

My family structure is ordinary, its personality is catastrophic. It’s already messed up that mom is the boss. Imagine a strong woman with the nickname Schumacher Lady, and of course, it’s not just a compliment. If we had police... I’d rather not pursue this idea, I think you’ll find out for yourself. Mum is stern, proud and for some reason supernaturally fond of cakes. She’s an Iron Lady with a sweet tooth, and she is proud of it.

Once happened, that my school had a meeting for parents. Because I’m a better student than my brother was, my mother sat in the front row and stared at the headmaster with eyes wide open and strict that he finally got stage fright and didn’t dare continue his speech. Naturally, my mother was fed up and called the poor old man a dilettante. She took the speech out of his hands and read it herself with such enthusiasm that all the parents believed it was the most elite school in the world. However, when she got to the general classification of the students, she skipped most of them and read only mine, and then, as one who had done his job well, she left the room like a queen, satisfied. The next day the whole teaching staff was talking about Mum’s performance. The same day she was elected as the head of the PTA. Now I think you understand what kind of woman she is. Let’s look at Dad.

Dad, he can be the calmest creature in the world for two whole minutes. He’s an artist and a very moody person. As I said, he’s calm for two minutes, in general, then he falls into a deep depression for a few minutes, then gets angry that he’s in such a volatile mood again, then finally admits he’s like the British weather and settles down. Then it starts all over again, sometimes in a different order. Dad is a painter. His emotional variability means his paintings are so diverse that anyone can find one to suit them. So far, he’s signed with three galleries, but what’s next... Dad can be moved by almost any news. Some catastrophe has happened halfway around the world and he tearfully launches an online petition for help. He sees a stray animal outside, takes it in. That’s exactly why we now have three adult dogs, four puppies and approximately ten cats. I know it sounds like a lot, but they are so cute and can be such soft blankets in the winter.

And that’s where my brother comes in. He’s a perpetual young activist who can campaign for practically anything, whether it’s political elections or saving star-nosed moles. A fearlessly determined character, but somehow learning has never inspired him. He always came up with the most colourful excuses. A favourite was when, as usual, he didn’t do his homework and got himself out of trouble by saying that he had attended an online conference the night before on the subject of technology to combat global warming. Of course, he gave a small presentation on this, didn’t mind giving it in Hungarian, and the teacher had no chance to even say hello. In that class, he got two grades: an A for the presentation and an F for the homework.

The diversity of my family is sometimes the source of my creativity, sometimes the cause of my nightmares. Just to clarify, I’m a grown woman. 21 years old and I have a job. But I’m still called “the little one” in the family. Of course, when I announced that I have a boyfriend during dinner my brother laughed, my dad jumped up from the chair as if it had been lit on fire and my mum immediately took the phone in her hand to look up the “potential victim” on Facebook. And that was the calmest dinner we’ve ever had. But it’s been three years now, Mom is still strict, Dad is known all over the country, and my brother has become an eco-warrior… And I’m getting married, but my family doesn’t know it yet. Aaron and I decided to tell them today. Wish me good luck! I will definitely need it.

It was such a relaxed Friday night. There were no clouds in the sky, a soft, warm breeze was blowing. I felt the world was still going to explode around me today. We both got fancily dressed up. Aaron had put on his nicest suit, which definitely accentuated his tanned skin and sea-green eyes. I oscillated between an evening dress and bridal gown, but when Aaron noticed, I was almost hyperventilating from nervousness, he chose one of my simple self-designed dresses and sent me to the bathroom to get ready with the words “I’m leaving in half an hour, with or without you”. I tell you, he’s a perfect guy. He makes me feel like a princess in a castle, free as a bird, flying through the sky with her mate, visiting every corner of the world, drawing inspiration from the smallest blade of grass. I am indecisive, but he has accepted that and always teaches me how to make the right choices. Or at least decide something. He was totally on my side when I announced that I wanted to open a sewing shop and design clothes. I remember that day, Mom broke three teacups and Dad painted his painting “Fifty Shades of Anger”, which was bought two minutes after the exhibition. Thank God, my brother was just surprised and then declared that if I dared to use animal skin or hair, he would ban me from the family. I’m an animal lover, he didn’t have to tell me twice.

Whenever I announced something to my family, it was always difficult to get them to understand, so naturally, I was anxious.

           “Everything’s gonna be alright!” said Aaron trying to calm me down, unavailingly.

           “Nothing wrong will happen.” continued his mantra, as if trying to calm himself down too.

My mum opened the door on the second ring. The smell of fresh, delicious food came out of the house, making my stomach growl. I felt at home. I knew every corner of the house, having drawn fairy-tale characters on every corner when I was a little child. My father was already sitting in the seat of the head of the family, figuratively he was, not practically, and he was talking to my brother. He was very keen on explaining things, I knew he had an announcement to make. While we sat down in our seats, my mother’s mobile phone rang.

“Just a moment, darlings,” she said and then moved a little, waited a moment and irritably spoke into the phone.

“You félkegyelmű ökör[1], wasn’t I clear? We need a band, not a DJ. You ritka hülye[2], didn’t I tell you to book the Royal Hall, not the Loyal Bar! By the time I go in tomorrow morning, you dilettante, and it’ll still be like this, you’ll be thrown out from the fourth! Did I make myself clear?”

A short silence, then Mom hung up the phone. Being bilingual means, you can say not so nice things in another language without being fired for wrong word-using. Believe it or not, judging from Mom’s monologue, she really liked the person on the other end of the line. She just wanted to throw him out from the fourth floor, which means a lot.

After she took her seat, we held each other’s hands and Dad thanked God for the opportunity and the dinner, and then we had the first course. Or we would have if the announcements hadn’t come first.

“Dear family” Dad took up his dramatic tone “I have great news. We have managed to sign a contract with an overseas gallery, and it’s in New York. Do you know what that means?”

“That we’re finally on vacation?” I asked the rhetorical but legitimate question.

“No,” Dad concluded shortly, “It means I might even get international recognition.”

We were all astonished. Dad, as an internationally acclaimed painter. I know that it is his dream. His announcement was followed by two minutes of applause, and we knew that he would have plenty of time to elaborate on this news after dinner. Mom was next.

“As you’ve just heard, I’m organizing. Victoria Rouge herself will be visiting my company, so I’m organizing a small opening ceremony for her.”

“If it’s at the Royal Hall, it won’t be small,” said my brother, and we could see by the look on Mum’s face that she hadn’t planned to organise it small, she was just being modest.

“Of course, if you manage to impress her with your collection Elsa” my mother turned to me, including me in the story I was now part of “then she will support your career and of course the company.”

My mouth was hanging open. The record in my head was completely stuck. Career. Victoria. Fashion. Clothes. These were the only remained words in my vocabulary.

“I’m getting married,” replied I, without knowing what I am saying.

“What?!” screamed Mum. Did I mention I like her high-pitched voice? I was shocked and the only sentence I managed to form was that.

“Sarah,” said slowly Dad turning to my Mum as if talking to a beast. “Calm down, please!” He took a big breath. “What on earth Elsa?!” cried out.

Aaron pressed my hand signing I will continue.

“Yes, you heard her well. I proposed her, the love of my life.”

Mum was dauntingly pale, I was already thinking of pouring water on her face when she finally made a move. Stood up slowly went to the cupboard and took a teacup. I knew what is coming next and immediately hid under the table with Aaron. He hugged me and patiently waited for Mum breaking the third teacup. But after a few seconds, another scene was coming and she broke another three. A whole set of teacups regretted my announcement. We knew Mum was angry, even furious.

After a few seconds, we dared to come out from our sanctuary and found ourselves face to face with my mother.

“Te[3]” started “did I give you permission?” asked silently scaring me a lot. Around us broken teacups as if an elephant ran through a porcelain shop.

“I don’t need your permission” replied I, trying to collect as much energy, as you sent me. “I am an adult, independent woman.” Started to raise my voice to highlight the importance of my words. “I have my own job, I have my own career, I have my own dream and you have nothing to do with them.”

“Nothing? Have you said - nothing? I was the one who managed to organize a meeting with your idol. You would have never made that step. I raised you up and I showed you the fashion world. How dare you say I have nothing to do with your career?” she was screaming from the top of her lungs.

“Of course, you showed me the fashion world, but never praised me or my collections, just exhibited them as if they were just one part of your job. Why aren’t you happy that I’m going to be married? I love Aaron and you cannot change my mind,” said I, feeling, I am going to cry soon.

“Because you are still kids,” pointed at us. “You are immature little children, who think it is going to be fun to play a playhouse. You won’t get married until I give my permission. Was I clear?”

“Yes, you were, but I won’t listen to you. I feel my time has come and you can’t stop me.”

“Girls” Dad interrupted us. “Please, sit down and at least act like you are a family. Elsa, would you be so kind to explain?”

“Nothing needs explanation,” said Mum “She is crazy.”

“I have never been so sure on anything. I said yes and here is the ring as the sign of our love.” I showed my finger with the ring on it. I was proud. Aaron chose it himself, without any help, knowing my ring size, when I don’t even know it.

Dad opened his mouth, as he was trying to say something, but when he saw the ring, immediately ran upstairs to his workshop. The sight of the ring inspired him. Mum was watching it with strict eyes. I knew she liked it, but will never admit it. I decided to leave.

I stepped carefully over the broken pieces of porcelain and headed for my coat. Aaron followed me but turned around.

“I love her, despite what you are.”

Then he followed me, grabbed his coat and we left the house. As soon as we got into the car, I was in tears, and we didn’t get to leave for nearly five minutes because of me. My home had deserted me, and somehow my only sane thought was what was going to happen to all the delicious food.

[1] félkegyelmű ökör (Hungarian) – half-witted bullock

[2] ritka hülye (Hungarian) – rare idiot

[3] Te (Hungarian) - you