Absent

The marble steps gleamed in the weak morning sunlight. November was renowned for dull and dreary mornings but this particular one had reluctant sunshine. A flurry of people with stern looks walked past Matthew who had perched himself at the far right end of the stairs, watching and waiting for the familiar face of his father. He had promised more than once in the preceding week that he would be there to watch Matthew defend his thesis. Even with the beauty and buzz that the new library in the middle of Nairobi created, loneliness was never too far off to be an option.

A digital clock at the far end of the lobby glowed 10:25 just as Matthew’s mother walked towards him. He beamed at her and she held out her arms to hug him. It had been a busy time for him preparing for this day and she had seen even less of him than she was becoming forcefully accustomed to. Her warm hands cupped his slightly cold face and in an instant he was a boy again, basking in familiar affection. “Why are you out here? It must be warmer inside.” Her eyes searched his face.

“I just didn’t want to get nervous waiting inside. I will go inside at about quarter to 11.” He spoke softly, hoping to sound confident enough to convince her.

“You are waiting for him to come, aren’t you? – ” She sighed, “- He never does and that sets you off. What if we made this the day you stop waiting for him? Give him a chance to chase after you?” Her voice played a balancing act so delicate that she felt fragile merely suggesting anything to her son. She knew what this meant to him. He had slogged through law school and meticulously prepared for this day. In a few minutes he would face a panel of six poker faced professors to defend parts of constitutional law she had only heard about from him, but he needed his father even if he would not admit it. He sought more than just his presence; he craved the approval of his father, Chief Justice of the land.

“He said he will come. He promised.” Matthew said right before changing the topic to something less inflammatory. They talked until 10:40 when they started their slow walk to the grand gallery that was starting to settle into an anticipatory silence, neither mentioning the absence of his father.

Across the city in a plush office, a doctor in a pristine white lab coat focused on the screen in front of him before turning to address the patient on the MRI bed.

“Alright Chief Justice…”

“Please, just call me Matthew.”

“Okay, um, Matthew. Stay perfectly still until I ask you otherwise alright?”

“Right.”

“We should be able to have a better idea after this of why you feel the way you do.”

“I sure hope so Doctor. Dementia is not a good look on a Chief Justice.”