Citizenship Oath

“I can’t believe this is your fifth. It’s my twenty-sixth.” Jose said to his coworker.

Was it a brag or an indictment? Tom couldn’t tell. The way Jose said “fifth” sounded as if he thought it was Tom’s first ceremony. A part of Tom felt proud that he subconsciously retained that sense of life he felt at his first oath-taking ceremony.

“Lot of natural light. But it’s a greenhouse.” Jose muttered.

When Jose spoke through the corner of his mouth, it meant he wasn’t pleased. The unpleasantness this time seemed to be the courthouse. It was supposed to be environmentally friendly. But the air conditioning bill being what one would expect, the giant eight-story atrium was seldom air-conditioned.

“And we must wear the full shirt, jacket, and tie shebang.”

Jose was not happy he had to stand in this atrium. Tom had a distinct feeling that the unhappiness ran deeper.

“They should open the courtroom already. People are getting dehydrated here.” Jose shouted to nobody in particular. Those around him who had heard gave appreciative nods. Tom smiled. Jose didn’t change the frown etched on his face.

When the doors opened, Jose made sure he was the last to enter. He had shouted other things at the crowd, this time in that voice of authority that few would mistake for something else.

“It’s my job to herd these cats into the room. Not that they need herding. They come eager, you see.”

Tom understood what was funny about that statement to Jose. The statement had that quality of someone reveling in another’s misery. Only, the crowd wasn’t miserable.

“It’s probably a memorable day for all these good folks here,” Jose answered the quizzing look on Tom’s face. “They will hear speeches. Some will cry. Some will cry from the peanut gallery. Some will make speeches, choke up, continue to speak until everyone is uncomfortable. Someone will talk about the current President. Agree or not, all will clap and hoot when it’s all over. Everyone will take pictures after fixing the mascaras that need fixing. And then it will all be over. And we can get out of here.”

Jose sighed. A sigh of having seen this routine play out twenty-five times. Tom understood. It was their job. They were nameless, faceless bodies sent to man the citizenship oath ceremony. It was clear it wasn’t Jose’s favorite thing to do. On more than one occasion, Jose had told anyone who would hear that on-the-road assignments were more eventful to him.

“But don’t you see how earnest they all are?” Tom quizzed. “Aren’t you moved at all by the spectacle of people achieving something? Look, look at her and tell me she doesn’t think of this ceremony as a singular achievement. And him, and that guy.”

Jose flicked the thought as one would scare away a mosquito.

“Their only achievement is that they didn’t get caught by immigration and customs enforcement all these years.”

“That means they are smart, law-abiding people.” Tom offered.

“No, it means we are dumb and couldn’t get to them soon enough.”

The sentence came out of the corner of Jose’s mouth. Tom knew what that meant.

The one Tom had been staring at looked at him and smiled — a hesitant smile that was unsure if it would be returned. Tom gave his most reassuring smile in return. In that exchange, even though they were strangers, they knew what the other wanted to say: everything will be alright.

Jose standing next to Tom, stood forgotten, ignored.

“Unbelievable,” Jose said and walked away to a different part of the room.