Just Off Center

The office I work out of right now is used by myself and four employees of the company. On occasion, other employees will walk in and have a seat just to hang out and chat. One such employee is Bob. Bob is a big, hulking man with a smooth, baritone voice and a kind nature. I like him. She's been very helpful since I arrived.

Yesterday afternoon he was hanging out when he got a call on his cell phone. He answered with familiarity. Then his face turned to stone and his tone went cold. Some of the sentences I heard him utter are:

"And he's completely braindead?"
"When is mom wanting to take him off life support?"
"Does Sylvia know?"

Obviously someone very close to him has had an encounter with some physical ailment that has rendered him completely helpless and living off of a life support machine. Everyone in the room fell silent and begin typing out and emails or studying their schematics. I just sat there in the back and looked at him. His eyes never met mine.

"No, that's what he'd want. He'd tell us to go home, get a gun and shoot him in the goddamned head."

Why is everyone just going about their business? He obviously feels comfortable enough in this terrible moment to have this cell phone conversation in this room. Why isn't anyone else looking for an opportunity to console him? When he got off the cell phone he put his head in his hands. He was holding back emotion, maybe not tears...yet. But definitely emotion. He quickly got on a landline and called his sister.

"So you're okay with what mom's doing? I just had to be sure. Yes, of course I am."

And then he called his mother.

"Mom, you can't shoulder this whole thing alone. Let us help. I can be there soon."

The whole time I'm sitting there looking at him waiting to see if he needs anything. It's unlikely that he will. But if this happens to me and all of my coworkers just turn back to work, passing off this tragedy as a social awkwardness, I'll be livid. He quickly scurried out of the room. I haven't seen him today. I cast my eyes around at these grown men, friends of his every one, and could feel the muscles in my face contorting to form a scowl. Contempt. Contempt for each and every one of you.

Today there has been no mention of the "incident". I can only expect that whoever was incapacitated, by all hints his father, has been removed from life support and will soon be dead. I'll just say right now that I agree with Bob's assessment of his dad's wishes. Go get a gun and blow my fucking head off. I'll sign a "No-arrest" clause, not that anything like that exists. Kill me and do it quick. Say goodbye to me later, but end it now.

I have little respect for humanity as it is. I love humanity, but I don't offer any sanctimony to it that I feel hasn't been well earned. This situation didn't earn me any proof that I am wrong in my assessment. But I still smile and press palms. I say what I need to say and go about my day in a chipper face. Even to the wretches who wouldn't extend a warm arm or a sympathetic word to a friend in a desperately painful hour.