Last Updated on April 21, 2023
We are driving to visit Gloria now. She is a long-term relation…by marriage, not blood. Her husband (the blood relation) died a long time ago, but the connection did not break. She remains firmly nestled in the family bosom.
We have not seen Gloria for 10 years. She was always plump. Albums of old photos document her plumpness. Always plump, always gracious, always well-mannered, a little reticent, smiling.
A helper/housekeeper admits us into Gloria’s small home. She is sitting at the table, wearing a loose, unidentifiable garment of unidentifiable design and dark colors. It has slipped slightly down one arm. Gravity has pulled the plump from her shoulders and left them surprisingly bony.
She greets us with brows that shoot up; eyes that widen; a broad, exaggerated, toothy smile. She always had big teeth. Albums of old photos reveal her big teeth.
Gloria and my husband speak in Spanish, and he does most of the talking. I comprehend many words, but their talk is fast, and I have forgotten my Spanish verb tenses, so it is easy to drift away from their conversation and become silent.
I am observing Gloria. She reacts to his every word with overdrawn facial expressions and gestures. Furrowing brow. Frown. Crinkling, twinkling eye. Fingertips to mouth or cheek. I suddenly realize that my own eyebrows are also raising…of their own accord. I am grinning for no apparent reason…except that Gloria is grinning. I am involuntarily mimicking her!
[WHAT AM I DOING? I CANNOT HELP MYSELF!]
Gloria is a careful listener, skillfully encouraging the other’s speech with a carefully nodding head. A word here and there. A slow left to right swivel of the head, “tsk-tsk.” A sucking breath to convey sympathy or surprise. I am trying to maintain dispositional neutrality here, but she draws me in, and without any purpose or volition, I am mirroring her movements.
[STOP IT!]
Her non-verbal side of their exchanges gradually heightens to little gasps over some shocking tid-bit or little giggles over mild amusements. Now my attention is unshakably attached to the nuance of every sound she utters and move she makes. Occasionally she glances at me. We make eye contact, and I am momentarily her captive, her prisoner. I cannot resist the compulsion to copy her.
[WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ME?]
It is time to conclude our visit with Gloria, and I am finally released from the weird power of her influence and suggestion over me. We exit her house and drive away. I am relieved to regain my voice and personal agency, but I admit only to myself that for 30 minutes I had lost them.
~Julie Helms~