I go to the mayor’s office to deliver an official letter requesting his presence for when my bosses come next week. The man has showed me up and lied to me so many times at this point nothing goes undocumented (funny part, documenting everything was his secretary’s idea).
As the secretary is helping some girls use her computer to
do some homework assignment, I am patiently waiting and admiring the
secretary’s patience with the demanding teenage girls (perhaps I am one of
those girls to her too).
As the secretary is printing out my stupid official letter,
the mayor walks in behind me. I didn’t even know he was in town. The last time
we spoke was the meeting where his council members talked me in lying circle
after lying circle. Neither of us knew how one-another would act today. He knows
he lied, and he knows I know he lied. He isn’t a stupid man by any means, just
a victim of poverty as much as the kids I work with.
“Hola, Señorita Luz”
I nervously perform an about face, and there we are, nose to
nose. He has the most nervous, almost apologetic face I have ever seen on a
Peruvian man. He diverts his eyes, straight down, immediately.
“hello, Señor Mayor. Just now I was printing out a letter to
request your presence for a meeting when my bosses come down from Lima next
week. Do you think you can be here the 24th?” I smile, a real one.
As much a begging smile as a I-have-no-strength-to-
give-you-anything-more-than-this smile.
As he turns to his calendar he says, barely joking, “They
are going to rip me apart, aren’t they?”
“No, sir, me. They are coming to review my work here. What I have been doing for the past 2
years.” Awkward shared laugh.
He points to the calendar. “Where are we, here we go…”
He points to a date over a week ago.
I point to today’s date. “Ah,” he says “next Thursday then”
“yes sir, you can really be there?”
“I can.”
“wonderful… how is Richard? We miss him at the library. Did
he enroll in classes in Arequipa City?”
Then he gives me this kind of smile that I am all too
familiar with. When I can’t give someone news they don’t want to hear, I get
uncomfortable and smile. When my dog ate my roommate’s flying squirrel years
ago, I smiled through lunch as I told him what happened. I can’t explain it, but I know that
smile.
“no…” he smiles.
I give him my confused face.
“he is still in bed. Getting better.”
I have no freaking idea what this means, but experience
tells me requesting a medical explanation will get me nowhere.
Not knowing what else to do, the mayor smiles. I hate the
sympathy that wells up in me for him at this moment. I want to shove it away,
but I let it settle in my chest. What does this father want to hear right now?
“I will send him all the good energy I can, we all hope he
gets better soon” and I put my hands in a prayer position.
He scurries away without saying goodbye, still carrying that
weird, cold smile.
What do you do with a father struggling with serious
personal issues that has absolutely no accessible tools for managing them? What
do you do with that man when he is responsible for a town? When he can’t manage
his responsibilities, but he can’t step down because he needs the paycheck to
pay the medical bills for the accident he caused that killed his mother and critically injured his wife and child? What do you do with that man?
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