As we were setting the table, I told Nick he ought to learn how to cook. He replied:
— Cooking just kinda bugs me, you know? I wouldn’t even know where to start.
— When I first became interested in cooking, I had to go to libraries, look up books, take notes, or buy them and keep them open beside me in the kitchen. Nowadays, all you need is a phone.
— So what made you wanna cook in the first place?
— When I was in my early twenties, a friend introduced me to Mr. George Ohsawa’s macrobiotic philosophy, and I was enchanted by his ideas. But following them meant I had to prepare my own meals — and at the time, I still lived with my parents and three siblings. My mother cooked for the family and refused to make one meal for everyone and another just for me. So I said, very well. Once you're done cooking for the family, I'll step in and cook for myself. And that’s what I did.
— Man, you were bold.
— It’s always been my greatest flaw, though back then I thought it was a form of empowerment.
— I used to love my mom’s cooking. God, I loved it. Can’t believe I walked away from all that...
I thought it best to give him a few seconds to process his feelings before I went on:
— The period I followed the macrobiotic diet was very good for me — but very brief. I soon realized it might work well for Buddhist monks, but for a young Brazilian living in a big city, surrounded by family, friends, birthday parties and relatives who were masterful cooks, I became a bit of a nuisance. And to me, belonging to my family meant more than my own physical well-being.
— I don’t think I could’ve done it any differently than I did.
— Sometimes our choices lie in fixing past mistakes — not in avoiding them.
— My mom’s gone now.
— And your sisters?
— The youngest is still around.
— Do you speak with her?
— Nah. It’s been years.
He fell silent for a moment, then looked at me and said:
— Did you and my therapist plan this together?
We ignored the table already set. I gave him a quiet smile and said:
— I don’t even know who your therapist is.
— You think I should reach out to my sister?
— If only to ask her forgiveness — for having walked away from her, and from the whole family.
— Whoa. Was that a punch to the gut or what?
— Isn’t that the whole point?
— She was kinda spoiled, but she was cool...
— Younger siblings are born into families already fully formed, with each member settled into a role. That makes life easier for them. Do you know how to find her?
Then I turned to him, gripped his shoulders firmly, and looked him straight in the eye. With calm conviction, I said:
— For things like this, we must be men — and men do not fear fear itself, but rather, fear being ruled by it. To lose our freedom is always the worst.
Our night flowed in near silence. Healing wounds is never easy.
