P.G has the most insane way of asking questions. And I as always have the privilege of having lunch with her. So today while our boss was happily eating his buth, she spoke.
“So are your parents dead?” I choked.
I tell her that there are better ways of phrasing the question, she looks at me and says, “oh you mean, like are your parents alive?”
I’m not the queen of tact, but surely she can’t be this blonde. He decided to interrupt and casually tell her in nicer words that she’s a moron. I wholly agreed. Then P.G not the one to let things go, struck back “so how old is your son”?
“Daughter”. We almost shout back. Unperturbed she questions him about his daughter. Now I’m mortified as he rattles on about his little girl who is actually 9. I keep looking in P.G’s direction to communicate with my eyes that she needs to watch what she says next. But alas, I’m too late.
“Why does she behave like 3 year old if she’s 9?”
We sigh, and he says that she’s got Down’s Syndrome. I felt a gush of relief but at the same time I refused to make eye contact. I wasn’t sure whether my eyes would betray any emotion or maybe his would.
P.G feels embarrassed and stupid and as usual is now struggling for words or maybe her own emotions, but he continues throughout lunch regaling stories of his daughter. I feel elated. Here’s somebody whom I’ve known for ages and I knew about his daughter’s condition, yet I’ve never inquired about her for fear of how he’d respond. But here we’re merrily discussing her antics and laughing. It’s like he has always waited for someone to ask him about her, and all it took was P.G’s inquisitive questioning in the most uncivilized manner to get him talking.
For once I didn’t berate her for her lack of etiquette.
