Flatlined

or the quiet death of connection

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Faiza Guene's Discretion explores the complexities of an immigrant family in a land that does not always open its heart to them. Through each chapter, we follow (or graze) the lives of each member of said family.

What I'm about to discuss, though, has little to do with the plot of this book.

In one chapter, one of the daughters, Imane, is breaking up with her partner. She considers all the reasons why they're not a great/perfect match. In the end, it comes down to one factor, and I quote:

"Trouble was, he flatlined. There was nothing special going down between them..."

Usually, when relationships teeter towards their demise, one or both parties can tell. There may be an aversion to address the matter at hand, because how do you talk about the inevitable end of love?

You might consider the point where it took a sharp turn towards destruction. You consider all the reasons—a budding difference in once shared interests, faith or the lack thereof, laconia, one-sided interest in fanning the flames.

You had thought of your relationship as a cherished glass box, sat atop your coffee table. Every morning, you wake up and stroll into your living room, your eyes quickly finding and admiring this box. Gazing intently upon it, caressing it. You think of all the memories it holds, the shared laughter and inside jokes, the long phone calls as you make dinner, the evening walks...

You think of the frantic attempts at preventing this box from toppling over. The "maybe it's in my head but...", the constant reassurance.

But sometimes the secret sauce, the adhesion has simply weakened its hold. What you shared has plateaued. The spark (I dislike this word) can simply not be reignited and that's that.

It's simpler for us to accept the end of something when it's linked to a tangible cause or major drama. Betrayal, dishonesty, etc. That way endings have a stamp of validation. But the engine sputtering to a stop without warning? Being taken by complete surprise? Unconscionable.

This reminds me of the break-up scene in "The Worst Person in the World." When Julie leaves Aksel, of course many reasons were given to justify her decision: the age difference, his desire for children, her growing connection to another man, her need for personal exploration. But the truth is the engine had sputtered to a stop. Like the breakup story in the first paragraph, they had flatlined. The end.

I give examples of romantic relationships, but I mainly have friendships on my mind while writing this. Especially as it is not usual practice to have a long, drawn-out conversation, the usual push and pull that accompanies a breakup. The one left behind is mostly left to tend to their emotional distress, to deal with the profound loss.

Perhaps what makes flatlining so difficult is the absence of closure. There's no finale, no clear moment to point to and say 'that's when it ended.' Just a gradual realization that something once cherished has slipped away. Maybe acknowledging this peculiar grief is the first step toward healing from it - recognizing that the flatline isn't a failure but simply the natural conclusion of a story that has run its course.

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Some things I loved in February:
1. My friend, Pinocchio
2. The Last Words of Benito Picone
3. Between you and me
4. Abe Sada
5. Oscar Best Picture noms (I shall put out a special piece about this, hopefully tomorrow)
6. How to fall (and stay) in love
7. Break-Up
8. Nice to meet you again
9. Youth
10. No Front Teeth