I am visiting a cousin who has recently been admitted. Our conversation is difficult. He gets stuck halfway in all his sentences, desperately searches for what’s next and then gives up the fight. We are sitting at the men’s table. The residents apparently still adhere to the motto ‘boys with boys and girls with girls. Right next to us, four ladies sit together in silence.
The nurse comes to one of them: “Jet, your Mathieu is on the phone.” Jet picks up the phone and says: “When are you coming? Been? When was it? I can’t remember that. How are things now? Good? Are you coming by today? No? But when are you coming?”
‘Kiss me again, just like then. Ask me for a kiss again,’ sings Corry Brokken. I try not to listen to the sad phone call next to me, but of course I can’t.
“In two weeks,” says the woman called Jet. “Where have you gone then? Oh, aren’t you on holiday? But when are you coming?” My cousin is also listening and suddenly says: “I think this woman is…” He frantically searches for what’s next, doesn’t find it and smiles. All his unfinished sentences end with a smile that could mean either resignation or apology. I talk about PSV that they can become champions, but they are no longer interested in football. While he used to play in the youth of RBC. Was a nice player.
‘I put on my walking shoes, smile cheerfully and happily. I don’t know where I will go, the world is mine, falderie fdera fdera’, is now given. I like that station because I can still easily sing along to all those old tunes.
“We’re having coffee now,” says Jet, “no, I won’t have cookies anymore. And you? Having breakfast? Pleasant. By the way, are you coming this way again? Far? Bergen op Zoom is not far after all. Oh well, you don’t live there anymore, that’s true. But when are you coming?” The nurse returns and says: “Say good day to Mathieu, Jet.” The old lady gives the phone back in horror.
“PSV,” says my cousin, “I once…” He smiles again. A little later I say goodbye. As I leave the room I hear ‘Faldera-aaaaaaa-aaa’.
