This is How You Lose Her

In Bureaucracy: A Nightmare.

We are both sitting in the office of the man who will sign a document whose contents I am for some reasons unaware of. Asking us to wait, he goes back and forth with a much younger man. This guy, who should be just about the age of his son, is already bald and having a pot belly, as if to suggest that the future was already decided, and it was here with us.

By means of the ensuing exchange, the manner in which the office occupant and the young guy who couldn’t wait to be old played — the occupant making jokes that saw him occasionally leap to his feet to chase the young guy out of his small office, after which the young guy returns and continues to dramatically beg him while on his knees — one was safe to assume there was a tinge of familiarity between both parties. A familiarity, that did not make either of them any more likable. In fact one that was guaranteed to generate hatred, the longer one continued to observe.

I want to scream at this man who had kept us waiting just so he could go on with what seemed to me a childish play but I do not wish to make things any worse than they already were. So I sit patiently in the guise of a beggar recognizing someone of authority having what he desperately needed and seemingly putting up an accompanying good behavior in order to get what he wants. Understanding that people in government offices were sometimes as inefficient as the government themselves.

Soon, another man walks in and observes we are entirely not in great shape and then proceeds to sign the documents. The occupant of the office nods as if to say that will do and motions for us to leave, and after how many years. As we approach the exit, the signer asks me to take care of who I have come with.

As soon as we find a place to sit I proceed to give her some water to drink. Her appearance, suggesting to me to do so, as if she was going to pass out any moment from now. She drinks and fades, her head, tucked backwards, the direction, facing the other side. I am not naive. I understand she is gradually slipping away. Gently, I tap her. She looks up at me briefly with a face weakened and fully unable to hold up any emotion, by God I want to [redacted] scream. “Please stay, mom.” I say. She nods and faces the other side, her eyes shutting again.

Quickly, I remember what my grandfather says, that when a person is going to die soon they sleep facing the wall. I realize I am beginning to tear up at the acceptance of this reality. I am going to lose her and understandably I am losing it.

When I wake up from my short nap, I am still tearing up.

N/B: Story from a nightmare I had recently. Long story short, don’t be sleeping at work.

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