Just people crowded around folding tables, laughing.
Elena reached for my hand beneath the table.
I squeezed hers.
Later that night, while we were helping stack chairs, my brother walked over carrying an old gray office folder.
He handed it to me with a serious expression.
I stared at him.
“Hva er dette?”
Elena saw the folder and immediately started laughing.
Michael kept a straight face.
“You should probably open it.”
Inside was a receipt.
Community hall rental: $600.
Food: $412.
Cake: $34.
Decorations: $87.
At the bottom, Michael had written:
TOTAL COST OF INVITING EVERYBODY: $1,133.
Underneath that:
AWKWARDNESS: FREE.
I laughed so hard I had to sit down.
Elena took the folder and read it.
Then she laughed too.
My mother shouted from across the room, “What are you two doing?”
Michael yelled back, “Business documents!”
For one second, Elena and I looked at each other.
We both remembered another folder.
Another room.
Another night.
But this time, nobody went silent.
Nobody lost a company.
Nobody discovered a lie.
Nobody was excluded because they didn’t belong.
The room stayed loud.
Exactly the way family should be.
