the memo re: Zaire.
What do you mean, itâs not there ?
Is there another way to spell it?
Try with two dots over the i .
â¦Nope.
Thatâs ridiculous, it was always there.
Maxine, I just searched it. Itâs part of the Democratic Republic of Congo now. Itâs not a country any more.
Thatâs absurd, says Maxine. Sheâs putting her papers aside and leaning in behind him to look at the screen and make sure, but of course heâs right. Thereâs also The Gambia. It used to be plain old Gambia when Maxine was growing up. Whatâs with that? While Maxine was looking away, the world changed. Words, countries had come and gone.
You look like someone should have asked you first, Kyle tells her.
Well, someone could have mentioned it.
The funny part is that it works. Things do change. The first time Maxine abandons her attempt to name national capitals, Kyle says sympathetically, Wow, they didnât teach you guys much in school back then, did they? But for some reason he wants her to improve.
Heâs patient, and he uses helping strategies. After she has responded Mexico City, the next answer will be Guatemala City, and then Panama City. Heâll say Laos and sheâll say I donât know, and heâll say Vvvv-Vvvv-Vvvvvvii. And sheâll say, irritably, I donât know ! and just when heâs about to tell her, sheâll interrupt: Oh wait, wait now, Vientiane? After a few weeks of this, sheâs saying, Djibouti, now thatâs a trick isnât it, Kyle, because the capital of Djibouti is Djibouti,HAH!Hah haHAH! Sheâll rhyme off Astana-Kazakhstan, Asmara-Eritrea, Ashgabat-Turkmenistan, as if sheâd known them all along. Itâs hard to know who is more pleased by this or why, but when Maxine successfully identifies every country in Africa and its capital, they go out for hot chocolate.
On her last day in the office, Maxine was to meet her boss in the boardroom at four oâclock, to finalize the details of the transition, heâd said, and deal with any loose ends he might need to address with her replacement. I know youâre on top of it already, heâd added, gazing down at Maxineâs desk, where brightly-coloured file folders sat in strategically asymmetrical stacks, each of which had a large, lined sticky note on top. The handwriting on the sticky notes was calm and even, and suggested that everything was manageable. But, heâd told her, Iâd like to make sure weâve covered all the bases.
Punctuality was not Maxineâs chief virtue, but she did scuttle, at only a couple of minutes past four, along the hall that led to the boardroom, armed with a notebook and a list. For a brief moment she thought the atmosphere felt not quite as deserted as on a normal Friday at this time, but the thought passed, and then she opened the door to the boardroom and stopped dead. The boardroom was full. It was full of her boss and her colleagues and bowls of chips and a cake and a cooler overflowing with pop and Corona, full of streamers and balloons and her bossâs granddaughter Bridget, who was pulling on Maxineâs finger and saying, The presents are over here.
Someone pressed an open Corona into her palm. They gave her a pen and a notebook and a fish in a bowl, to keep her company when she missed them all terribly, which, it was explained, she would. Bridget was tugging at her arm so Maxine squatted down.
I was allowed to come, Bridget said solemnly, Because of the cake.
Well, said Maxine. Iâm, um, glad you were available.
I think I can have seconds.
Oh, I see. Letâs get you some, then. What do you think I should call the fish?
Bridget thought for a minute and then scooched up to Maxineâs ear. She whispered: His name is Bluebird.
So Bluebird it was. Maxineâs boss made a speech in which he said they were only letting her slip away briefly, on the condition that she come back. He said that in return for