Limbo

Two weeks ago a piece of my tooth disappeared. Probing it with my tongue in the evening I assumed that a filling had fallen out. In fact, my tooth had collapsed. The dentist explained that it had rotted away from the inside until one end caved in. I would require a root canal.

My second root canal in five months.

I have big gaps between my molars that I floss out every night. I pull out hunks of food larger than what you're imagining right now. The point though is that I am on top of this. I have identified the danger and am taking steps to correct. My teeth should not be disintegrating because that is a nightmare I have twice a year. That level of subconscious worry should really keep me safe. But

It is deskwarming season at public school. After vacation ended a week and a half ago, I had sixteen days of occupying space in Bummul Middle School. Then I leave the country, unlikely to return soon. The operative word when considering the benefit the school gains from my attendance is 'nothing'. However, you must remember that I am lucky.

The root canal and the four dentist appointments required to drill out my dental pulp and post and bracket and and and were the ammunition my co-teacher needed. She swam the proper channels, asked the gentlest of questions with the most polite case endings and over three days a question wormed its way through the administration and back out again. Could I not come to school? Yes. There was a meeting to attend on the 20th and my Principal and his Viceroy would like me to say goodbye before I leave, but I am free.

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Today is the 20th. Diligent, I arrived. The office was dark, a new wall split the last third of the old office away. My desk is gone. On my last day of school, I have nowhere to sit. I get in contact with my talented handler. The meeting has been moved to tomorrow, but before I can walk out the Viceroy appears and bids me "come on". 

I am sitting at someone else's desk now as our office slowly fills up. After fourty minutes the office assistant found this person's password. By luck, it appears the person who's space I am filling is not coming in today. Perhaps, like a magic painting I was lured to touch, I have switched positions with this person and they're boarding the plane to the Philippines on Sunday. 

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When Mrs. Park forged the deal for me she told me, "I think you don't have to come in any more." "The Vice Principal was vague, you will be alright to not come in I think." My status as a free agent was conditional on the fact that we did not ever have to say it was a fact. Only a possibility, a licence that will evaporate the minute the black helicopters of the Ministry of Education circle and zap strap us in a mid-morning raid. Not only will my licence be revoke but it will never have existed. The Vice Principal will never have given me leave for anything. 

This morning, I don't know if the spell is broken. If I walk out the door will it look as though I am walking out on the Viceroy? Will she stop me, or simply be offended that I didn't come on longer at my desk? She could even be silently urging me to leave, but unable to say "go on" with everyone here. Such direct words could be used against her.

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6 more days in Korea.