Style entirely inspired by Beckett's Vladimir and Estragon
My child's friends
A hallway.
A teenager’s coat hangs on a hook beside the front door. Two parents stare at it.
‘That’s the third black coat this year.’
‘It’s fashionable.’
'So was plague medicine.’
Silence.
‘He likes fitting in.’
‘Everybody likes fitting in.’
‘Not like this.’
One of them touches the sleeve. ‘Last year he wore yellow.’
‘Last year he played guitar.’
‘Last year he argued with us about documentaries on whales.’
‘Now he agrees with everyone.’
Silence.
‘That sounds peaceful.’
‘No. Peaceful is when somebody relaxes.’
‘And this?’
‘This is when somebody disappears carefully.’
A long pause.
‘Maybe we’re overthinking it.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Teenagers copy each other.’
‘Yes.’
‘Haircuts. Music. Coats.’
‘Yes.’
‘Words.’
‘Yes.’
‘Opinions.’
‘That’s where it gets expensive.’
Silence. From upstairs: Laughter. Then sudden silence. The parents look up.
‘Do you ever notice he laughs differently with them?’
‘How?’
‘Like he’s asking permission halfway through.’
Silence.
‘That’s dramatic.’
‘So is adolescence.’
One parent sits. ‘What happened to the astronomy club?’
‘He said it was embarrassing.’
‘He loved that club.’
‘Apparently stars are now socially difficult.’
Silence.
‘Maybe he changed.’
‘Maybe.’
‘People change.’
‘Yes. But usually towards something.’
Silence.
‘What if the group matters more than the people inside it?’
‘Most groups do.’
‘That’s bleak.’
‘Uniforms are efficient.’
‘They’re also for prisons.’
Silence.
‘You don’t like his friends.’
‘I don’t know his friends.’
‘You’ve met them.’
‘I’ve met their performance.’
A floorboard creaks upstairs.
‘Careful.’
‘About what?’
‘If we criticise the group, we criticise him, he’ll defend it harder.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘Ask questions.’
‘Such as?’
‘Do your friends make you feel more like yourself or less?’
Silence.
‘No. It does not matter what questions we ask as long as it is about what he wants to talk about’
‘Ask questions about gaming?’
‘Just make sure we're talking’
‘Not fully.’
‘It's a start. Makes talking no big deal.’
‘Because belonging is terrifying to lose at fifteen.’
A long pause.
‘When I was at school I wore a ridiculous hat for nearly two years.’
‘Why?’
‘Everybody else did.’
‘Did you even like it?’
‘No.’
Silence.
‘So why wear it?’
‘Because loneliness looked worse.’
Neither speaks for a while.
‘That’s the whole thing, isn’t it?’ ‘
What is?’
‘Children start shrinking long before they disappear.’
Upstairs, footsteps cross the landing.
‘Do you think good friends should challenge you?’
‘A little.’
‘Not endlessly.’
‘No.’
‘But enough that you remain visible to yourself.’
Silence.
‘That sounded rehearsed.’
‘Bus stop. Tuesday.’
A knock sounds from upstairs. The bedroom door opens slightly.
‘Are you two talking about me again?’
‘We’re thinking about friendship.’
‘That sounds worse.’
‘Possibly.’
Silence.
‘Do you like them?’ asks one parent gently.
The teenager thinks for a moment. ‘They make things easier.’
‘Do they make you more yourself?’
A pause.
‘What if I don’t know who that is yet?’
Silence.
One parent nods slowly. ‘Fair answer.’
The teenager looks at the coat hanging by the door. ‘You know I don’t even like black.’
Neither parent smiles. That would ruin it.
Further reading:
Psychology Today – Signs of a healthy friendship
Child Mind Institute – How to help your child resist peer pressure
The School of Life – Friendship and the self National Literacy Trust – Belonging and identity in adolescence