You’re having dinner with your sister who owes you 500 dollars. She walks in the restaurant and you check your watch. She’s 20 minutes late. A kiss on the cheek and a quick hug and the greetings are over.
You begin to feel my presence.
Four hooves, two floppy ears and a thiqq trunk. I will not be ignored.
You ask your sister about her kids. She asks you about yours. You compliment her lob haircut even though it doesn’t flatter her bone structure. Meanwhile, I grow ever more powerful. With each passing pleasantry my body grows in size. I just upgraded from a baby Dumbo to a Colonol Hathi. Time to straighten up, Mowgli. Acknowledge me!
Your sister talks about a new book she’s reading on managing money and I start to sway to the restaurant soundtrack. You haven’t spotted me yet, but you will.
While your sister talks about her yoga teaching certification, you check the calendar app in your phone and realize it’s been 3 weeks since you loaned her $500 and she hasn’t paid you back.
You ask your sister how much the yoga teaching certification costs and she offhandedly says, “about $1200” and then mutters something about how it’s good for her career development.
I start performing a Mongolian throat singing solo while tap dancing. My enormous gray body has now expanded to take up half the restaurant. I scoop up some pesto sauce in my trunk and drizzle it on your shirt. Still, you keep your eyes on your sister and say nothing.
You try a different approach. You tell her your husband’s hours have been cut at work and you guys are tightening up expenses. Your sister nods sympathetically. You tell her your dog tore his ACL and will need an expensive surgery. Your sister gasps but continues twirling her spaghetti.
I start picking up plates and throwing them against the wall while screaming “Opa!” The line of Greek dancers I hired comes out and performs the kalamatianos on my back. I shoot fireworks from my trunk. Still nothing.
“You know, I think Bill and I might take the kids to Hawaii next week,” your sister says excitedly.
Finally your head snaps up from the table and you look right at me. The anger and shock swell in you and you speak the words I’ve so desperately been waiting for.
“Hawaii?! I think we should talk about the elephant in the room,” you say. “You haven’t paid me my $500.”
I exhale sharply and flap my elephant ears like wings, flying off into the night. Time to stop in on the man who knows his wife is cheating with the gardener but hasn’t been able to bring it up. I’m the elephant in the room and my work here is done.
