There is No such Thing as Losing

The building was on fire. And I stood on the other side of the street watching as the old diseased walls crumpled into shapes like burning paper instead of burning wood. It shrunk so quickly that it was almost anticlimactic. Almost.

There was no time to save it. It’s not the building I’d like most in the world to burn down, but it was a good close second.

When filming The Sacrifice which was his final masterpiece, Andrei Tarkovsky staged a scene in which a house slowly and beautifully burns to the ground. The house started burning down, big billowing flames. But the camera jammed and the footage was unusable. The house had been built specifically for the film, and the entire project was dependent on this climactic moment. When he was told that there was nothing, that the house had been burned down in vain, there was an obvious answer most people would probably have on hand. In fact, who really knows if he ever said the words, even in a private moment.

“Знаешь что? Я уволился.”

"You know what? I quit."

Instead, Tarkovsky had a new house built in just two weeks and shot the whole thing over again. This time he used two cameras instead of one.

This is just a single example from a lifetime of similar crossroads that Andrei found himself at. He really embraced the whole Beckett failing again and failing better. And he’s one of, if not the best filmmaker to ever live. That is not a controversial opinion in the least.

I can’t burn this building down twice. It’s completely shattered and the roof is now the floor. By the time the fire department arrive, they are baffled by how well controlled the flames were. It’s like they had an assignment to burn the office and the office only with clear instructions to not even touch a bush of any neighboring properties. Cars on the passing street continue to slow and gawk, but they aren’t coming to a standstill anymore. There is only smoke, black roiling puffs that drift up and away.

We had both done it before. I’ve come in in the morning at least a dozen times over the years to find the place reeking of fake gardenia or rose to find a molten hot ceramic candle at the end of its wick. I never said a word to Naomi and she’s never said a word to me about it. Either of us could be guilty in this case, but something deep inside tells me that it was me.

The owner of the building, our boss, doesn’t pick up his phone. Ironically, I am the person in charge.

“I’ve never done this before.”

I told the police officer who arrived first. What I meant was that I’ve never burnt a building down, but of course that’s not how it’s deciphered.

“I’m either winning or I’m learning.” Nelson Mandela is quoted as saying. There is no such thing as losing. I’ve come to embrace that as a value in my life. If losing doesn’t exist, I need to also come up with a different label for the way that I feel inside each day I realize I’m lightyears away from anything I ever desired. The only word that fits at the moment is loser. Now I can also add half serious arsonist to my wheelhouse. Life does have its surprises no matter how far off the path you manage to go.

Naomi shows up at nine thirty which is normally when she arrives anyway. I have forgotten to call her to warn her and instead of pulling into the parking lot she has to drive by because there’s no room with all the emergency vehicles. She probably hasn’t been awake for more than twenty minutes which could explain her lack of surprise when she walks up next to me and observes the cinders.

“I was worried you might have been inside. But I saw you here in the lot. So, I guess everything’s okay then.”

She took a long draw from the straw of her iced coffee.

“Everything’s alright. I guess.”

“One of us probably left a candle lit. Did you light one yesterday?”

“I don’t know. Probably. Did you?”

“Yeah. Well, I’m not sure but I’d guess yeah.”

She extends her hand with another coffee that she had picked up for me and we both sip and stare while the firemen and police men buzz in all directions in front of us.

There is nothing to say. She feels that she is guilty and I feel that I am guilty but there is no real punishment. Or if there is a punishment it will be shared. And now I say the thing she is also thinking but of course it is me who would say it aloud,

“Now we’re free.”

Naomi nods slowly but starts laughing which causes me to start laughing. Sometimes when you are stagnant, when life has caught you in the comfortable quicksand that eventually drowns your soul, the only option is arson. To burn down the safe thing and leave you with no choice but to start over. I feel a giddiness start to set in.

“Maybe Mr. Mitchell will let us finally work from home now.”

Naomi jokes. I feel the laughter and the lightness from before drift out of me and mingle with the last of the smoke. Just because the building is gone doesn’t mean I’m not still trapped.

“Now you can think about a real career. Or going back to school. Maybe you could become a high school teacher or something?”

My best friend, therapist, and mother all separately suggest upon first hearing the news. No one suggests that I take time to work on what really matters to me. Because filmmaking and writing doesn’t make money. At least nothing I ever do would, that is what is implied in the quick conclusion that they jump to. And that is fair, but Tarkovsky didn’t build that second house with dollar signs in his eyes.

After Mr. Mitchell puts an offer to me to work from home, I leave the text unread for two days. At home I’m at my desk from sun up to sun down like it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever been allowed to sit at my desk. Then I spend the third day in a coffee shop from the time they opened to the time they closed. On the fourth day I responded to Mr. Mitchell’s offer.

“Thanks for the offer, but you know what? I quit. I’m sorry. I think the building was a sign for me to move on.”

I don’t think Mr. Mitchell believes in signs but I don’t care. I don’t think anyone believes in me but I don’t care.

A few days go by and Naomi tells me that the fire was an electrical fire started by some old wires in the bathroom wall. The infestation of carpenter ants had chewed through the wrong bunch and it sent the whole place up. I felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. My appreciation of the fire remained the same.