I recently reconnected with an old friend; I went to his house and met his children for the first time. One of them looked up from his screen as we entered the room, faintly curious about the intrusion. The other, with his back to us and his face obscured by a hoodie, didn’t bother. My friend announced their names as if that was sufficient introduction, but it felt weird that the children did not say hello and that one of them did not even show his face. Was something wrong with him? It was a bit creepy. Obviously I let it go. Maybe he was chronically shy or autistic, or facially disfigured. But the brother didn’t behave very differently, so probably not.
It later emerged that Hidden Face did indeed have ‘social-connection issues’ and that his parents were thinking of seeking a diagnosis for autism. By that time, he had deigned to show his face briefly. He shot his mother a venomous glance when she nervously suggested he might sit up for lunch. He whispered some compensatory demand that was instantly granted. I dread to think what it was. I wanted to shake the parents by the shoulders until some sense emerged. Instead, we had a pleasant chitchat about where to go on holiday and what to watch on Netflix.
It chilled me, the glance he shot his mother. It should have earned him a stern rebuke. But it seemed that he was holding an invisible Kalashnikov. His parents feared him. It chilled me but didn’t massively surprise me. Depressingly, I have seen many such cases.
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