Dear Respected One

Carlos pulled his dark blue suit out of the suitcase where it had been since the day after his father's funeral. He shook it out, examined it for holes and stains, and found it to be in great condition. The mice that had eaten whole chunks out of his sweaters during the summer had not made their way to the suitcase, and he wondered if it was the moth balls that had kept the mice away. The suit smelled strongly of camphor and Carlos considered hanging it somewhere to air out, but he didn't really know where in his Brooklyn apartment there would be good enough ventilation, and in the end he decided that it didn't matter. He didn't want to waste any more time.

He dressed quickly. White shirt, red tie, the blue suit. The shirt collar was yellowish and turned up at the corners, but all the stains were well covered by the jacket and the tie. He could not find any dress socks and did not own any dress shoes so he wore his white sneakers instead. He pulled his hair into a ponytail and shaved carefully around his moustache. He could have used a shower but doused himself with after shave instead.

Before heading out he checked his emails one more time. His heart jumped when he saw that there was a new email from Mr. M., but he did not open it. Instead, he checked again his black nylon shoulder bag to make sure he had packed the folder with the printouts of all the other emails. And yes, there it was, with all 20 pages of his correspondence with Mr. M. He grabbed the shoulder bag, put his Yankees cap on, and headed out.

The trip was short and uneventful, and Carlos arrived at the Nigerian Consulate in under an hour. He walked to the building and was stopped by a security guard at the door. "I need to see the Consul" said Carlos.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but it's a very urgent matter".

The guard took a step back and looked at him carefully. "What is this matter you are speaking of?"

"I cannot tell you! I will only speak to the Consul about it."

"Can I see your identification please".

He rummaged through his bag and took out his Uruguayan passport, his American Citizenship certificate, his Medicaid card and his Senior Center ID. He handed them over to the security guard. His hands trembled a bit.

"Um...Mr...Gomez? Thank you. I will now have to ask you to wait out here while I consult with our head of security inside"

"But why? I told you I need to see the Consul!"

"Well, Mr. Gomez, Sir, this is the Nigerian Consulate and generally Nigerian nationals come here, by appointment, to renew their passports or file important paperwork. You are not Nigerian, and will not declare the reason for your presence here, so..."

The security guard stepped inside without finishing his sentence. Another guard came to replace him. Carlos took out his cellphone and checked his missed calls just to keep himself busy. The new security guard was humming some unrecognizable song. Finally the first one returned and told him that he could not, under any circumstances, see the Consul.

Carlos was not pleased. "I will not move from here until I do", he said, and planted himself firmly on his legs, feet apart, hands on his hips. "Call the cops if you want, I will not move".

The security guards exchanged a look and said something in a foreign language. The second guard snickered, then went back inside.

Carlos stood in front of the door. The guard asked him again to leave, and he continued to refuse. His stomach growled. The guard's walkie-talkie buzzed, and after a short exchange he sighed and said "All right, Mr. Gomez, it looks like our Consul can see you after all. Please come this way."

The Consul was surprisingly young. He extended his hand and greeted Carlos with a smile, asked him to sit down. Carlos did not sit down. Instead, he paced back and forth in front of the Consul's desk, and said the speech he had prepared.

"A Nigerian national owes me a substantial sum of money, which I have come to legally, and he will not pay me what is owed, so I am here to make a formal complaint. I'm sure that you will be able to help me obtain my money."

The Consul swallowed, cleared his throat, and asked for some more information. Carlos pulled out the folder and handed it to the Consul. "Here's everything there is to know". The Consul began to read.

"Dear Respected One:
GREETINGS,

I am Imun M.; the only Son of late Mr and Mrs Henry M. My father was a very wealthy in Nigeria before he was killed to death. We are also motherless. Before the death of my father He secretly called me on his bedside and told me that he has a sum of $25.500.000 (Twenty Five Million, five hundred thousand dollars) and that I should seek for a God fearing foreign partner in a country if my choice where I will transfer this money.

I got your contact from the International web site directory. I prayed over it and selected your name among other names due to it's esteeming nature.

Sir, we are honourably seeking your assistance in the following ways.

1) To provide a Bank account where this money would be transferred to.

2) To provide your Social Secuirty number for the sincere purpose of my peace of mind that you are indeed the Esteemed individual your references qualify you as.

3) To provide your address where the correspondence can be sent which is not safe to send by email.

Sir, we are willing to offer you 45% of the sum as compensation for, effort in transfer of this Fund to your designate account overseas.

Anticipating to hear from you soon.
Thanks and God Bless.
Best regards.
Mr. Imun M. "

The Consul closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed.

Away

I saw her again after several months in which she could not be convinced to come to my office. The last time she was there, she thought my name was 'Ribaldina' and noted her failing memory with some distress.

This time she thought she was at her doctor's office, remembered my face but had no recollection of my name, or of having visited my office, weekly, for over a year. She looked the same except that her hat was on inside-out, and she was not wearing any makeup. She had on long, very pretty dangly earings that she said were a gift from her new boyfriend. She has no new boyfriends, and in fact her old boyfriend has been so frightened by her memory loss that he stays away more than he visits.

She thought the year was 2007, which isn't so bad, but then said that she was 32 years old, and single, and had no children. This confused her some as she did remember having a newborn granddaughter, but the confusion was short-lived and she broke into a fit of giggles saying that life sure is strange.

I know I will not see her again. There is nothing I can do for her at this point, and besides, she does not feel depressed or even anxious. Any memory she might have had of our sessions together has been erased, and I wonder now what the point really was. It was always difficult for me to see her, painful to the point that I would feel physically tired after our session ended at 11am, with little strength left for my other patients. But I usually told myself that it was all worth it if it helped her. Now she wears her hat inside-out, and thinks I'm her doctor -who is a man, and waits for a boyfriend she will never have.

Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can do this job.