Under my Mask
48hr contest story with the prompt, Mask.
Joe awoke along with his alarm clock. He showered, dressed, drank his coffee, then grabbed his mask, and was disturbed to notice a crack on the surface. Joe wondered when it had appeared. He would have to show up late for work today.
Joe opted to go to the mask repair shop in the mall. He sat down in the store to wait for a specialist. Other customers were also at the long table, wearing masks with obvious cracks or some other form of damage. Sample displays hung on the wall behind glass and on the smooth wooden tables. A father and his son were admiring the new X2 Mask.
"Joseph Booker?" a receptionist called.
Joe stood and shook her hand, her mask was cleaner than most.
"You say you found a crack on your mask this morning?"
"That is correct," confirmed Joe.
"Come with me and we can take a look."
Joe followed and was directed to a small change room. Alone, he removed his mask and slipped it through a sleeve in the wall. He waited several minutes feeling naked, staring at the blank white wall in front of him. Finally the same cracked mask appeared out of the sleeve. Joe grabbed it and felt a wave of relief to be wearing his mask again.
Outside the specialist explained, "It looks like a normal crack. These things happen. You can either get it fixed, or you could pick out a new mask."
"How much does it cost to fix?"
"The crack would be filled then the outer layer would have to be polished, so a cost of 189 dollars."
An expense that Joe had not planned for. However, it was a good excuse for an upgrade. After all, he has been using this mask for around three years. The new X2 Mask was far too expensive, but the older edition, the W9 Mask, was affordable, and would be a nice improvement from his current model.
After deciding, the specialist asked, "Would you like Mask Insurance with that? And you really should get a cleaning and polishing kit as well."
Joe arrived at work two hours later than usual wearing his new mask with the supplementary kit in his bag. He emailed his supervisor about the delay and attached the note of proof provided by the mask repair store. Joe began his daily work routine.
"So how's work?"
"It's okay," Joe replied.
"Hey don't give me that bullshit. How is it, for real?"
Again Joe replied, "It's okay."
"And what exactly is it that you do?"
"I'm part of the Administrative Services and Property Management branch for several of our buildings on Sparks Street."
"Can you translate that to English?"
Joe paused. "Basically we're in charge of maintaining renovations of all the mechanical equipment in the buildings. Mostly desk work and sending emails, to be honest."
"Alright, that answer makes more sense."
There was a pause between the two until the man sitting opposite to Joe in the diner leaned forward and asked one more question in a whispered tone.
"Why the fuck is everyone wearing masks?"
Donovan was born four years before Joe. The last time they had seen each other was at the funeral, ten years ago, when their mother died. Donovan left Ottawa soon after and had not returned since.
Joe didn't really have an answer for Donovan about the masks, other than that Donovan himself needed one.
"Listen you just have to have a mask."
Donavan looked around the restaurant at all the other customers and waiters with masks. "Is this a joke?"
"No I'm serious." Joe replied honestly.
The cheque arrived and Donavan quickly paid in cash. "This isn't funny. I'll see you later."
Donovan quickly got up and exited the diner. Joe felt a bit of relief as Donovan left, the presence of his mask-less face was socially awkward to say the least. As the door to the diner closed, Joe couldn't help feeling sorry for Donovan's ignorance of his embarrassing appearance.
It had been a long day and Joe decided to head home, and call Donovan tomorrow.
It had also been a long day for Donovan. The five hour plane ride was tiring and discovering that his home city was filled with people with masks was enough to make him exhausted. It had been a decade since he was here, but Donovan still remembered the bus numbers to get to the Kanata suburbs.
Donovan tried to ignore everyone's stares when he boarded the bus but they didn't even try to hide it back.
"Where's his mask?" a child loudly questioned to his mother. A kid with a mask on. The parent hushed the child and whispered something into their ear. Donovan walked to the back corner of the bus and dug his chin into the collar of his jacket. It was going to be a long hour.
Half way through the ride, a pair of bylaw officers boarded the bus. The two of them stood by the rear door, watching Donovan.
It was a relief when Donovan arrived at his stop. The officers were still standing between him and the door.
"Excuse me." Donovan tried to say in his most polite tone, which might have come off as slightly aggressive.
Luckily the officers made room for Donovan to exit.
Kanata had expanded, the farmer fields had sprouted matching row houses and big box stores. But his neighborhood was older, and apart from a few in-fills, was pretty much the same.
After a five minute walk, Donovan arrived at the house that belonged to his parents. Well, it now belonged to Donovan. He unlocked the front door and entered. A large house that was beginning to feel ominous now that the sun had set. Donovan turned on as many lights as he could find then found a can of soup and crackers in the cupboard. Donovan began to heat the soup in a pot then decided to check his room. He saw all his old stuff along with the addition of many other boxes and random junk stored there as well. Meanwhile, Joe's room was untouched from when he left. Donovan then checked his parent's room. Their room always looked the same. But the air did feel different. Donovan saw enough, closed the door behind him, and went back to his soup.
After finishing dinner, Donovan called Mae.
"It's so weird here. Everyone wears masks."
"What kind of masks."
"I don't know… masks."
"An early Halloween maybe?"
"Do you know what month it is? It's March."
"A really really early Halloween."
Donovan laughed, "Anyways how was your day?"
Donovan woke up in his old bed. It felt weird to be back here. Donovan showered in the old shower, found some oats, and ate from the same bowl he had always used.
Donovan realized that this house was not a place to keep. It was too big and ghostly to stay in alone. He had his life elsewhere, and Donovan decided that Joe shouldn't live here either. He then remembered about the mask situation.
"There's no way I'm repeating that experience again," said Donovan to himself. He found an old bandana to tie over his mouth and could wear the hood up on his hoodie, along with a pair of dark sunglasses. He figured it would be good enough.
Donovan phoned Joe.
"Sorry about losing my cool yesterday."
"It's fine. I was going to call you."
"Let's meet after you finish work."
"Sure, my place."
Joe gave an address somewhere downtown. Donovan felt relieved it wouldn't be in public among the masks.
"Well see you then."
Joe hung up the phone and turned back to his computer. The office was busier than usual today. Deadlines had to be met and clients had to be impressed. Joe was reminded he had a meeting to run in two hours. A meeting he still had to prepare for.
"Hey Joe, coming for lunch?"
Joe turned to face his cubical neighbor, "Not today Kelly. Have to take a raincheck. I'll catch up with you next time. Have a good one."
Joe brought a box of donuts into the meeting room ten minutes before the scheduled start. Some entered early and Joe engaged in small talk. That is until Paul entered. Joe went silent and only observed the conversation:
"Whoa Paul, is that an X2 Mask?"
"Sure is, just picked it up this morning."
"It looks much more impressive to actually see it."
"The smooth texture is just so… revolutionary in masks."
Paul quieted the room, "Thank you, thank you. But we're not here to talk about me. Joe, you summoned us?"
"Thank you Paul. Good afternoon everybody, let's get started."
There were six people at the table. Joe disliked all of them. Especially Paul and his X2 Mask. No one had commented to Joe on his new W9 Mask yesterday.
The meeting itself was fine. Information was exchanged with the occasional joke to keep the masks from dozing off.
After two hours, Joe concluded, "Excellent. Let's circle back in two weeks' time at 25% completion to reassess."
Everyone slowly exited the room. Paul was the last to leave, saying, "Good job Joe. Excellent meeting."
"Thank you Paul. Excellent mask."
The meeting had gone well, but left a bitter taste in Joe's mouth as he commutated back home to his apartment. He couldn't stop thinking of Paul's X2 Mask.
Joe arrived at his place with the surprise of seeing Donovan sitting on the front steps looking ridiculous with his face covered with a bandana and sun glasses.
"Shit, sorry I totally forgot."
"It's okay lil' brother, you're not late by much."
Donovan followed Joe into the apartment. It was smaller than Donovan had expected. Small rooms divided the small apartment. A bedroom to the right, a living room to the left, and a tiny kitchen and bathroom in the center. Joe moved between the rooms dropping stuff into one, and gathering stuff from the other. Donovan opted to stand at the door.
"I brought beers." Donovan held the six-pack in his hand, wondering which room could accommodate the both of them. They crowded into the living room.
"I don't drink anymore."
"More for me then."
Donovan decided he would finish a beer before bringing it up. An awkward silence loomed as Donovan drank, so he chugged quickly.
Once done, Donovan asked, "The masks, why are you even wearing that thing right now?"
"It's just what people do."
"Since when?"
"I don't remember. Since ever."
"Not since before I left."
"Well I guess between then, I suppose."
"It's ridiculous," commented Donavan.
"You know covering your face with a bandana and sunglasses isn't the equivalent. You looked even worse than showing your face."
Donovan's patience was again running thin. "Take it off. Face me!"
Donovan reached to grab and Joe deflected his attempt. Donovan didn't stop and began to wrestle Joe. The brothers used to wrestle, but now they were older, and their parents weren't around to stop them. The small living room didn't provide much space for their tussle. A chair was knocked over, quickly followed by a small table with its little assortment of items hitting the floor too. Donovan managed to lock Joe down and pull off his mask. Joe's pale face was exposed, his blue eyes wide with fear. Next Donovan saw Joe's elbow coming towards his face, knocking him down to join the chair and table on the floor.
Joe frantically pulled his mask back on as Donovan recovered from the blow by lying on the floor swearing at Joe.
"Everyone's gone crazy," yelled Donovan at the ceiling.
"No, just you," replied Joe.
With his mask comfortably in place, Joe checked on Donovan lying on the floor. Donovan's face looked fine, nothing broken.
Donovan looked back at Joe, then closed his eyes to avoid seeing the mask. "You've become stronger."
Joe didn't reply and instead just took a seat on the small couch to get his breath back.
Donovan remained on the floor and continued to speak:
"What the hell has happened to everyone in this city? Wearing your stupid masks. It used to be not that bad of a place, now it's all cold looks. What happened to you? I don't recognize you at all. I suppose your mask matches your clean suit. How do you even eat with those masks on? It's all ridiculous."
Donovan left the apartment soon afterwards. The sun was beginning to set and the air was getting cold. Donovan was exhausted and didn't want to bus for an hour back to the house, but what choice did he have. A woman walking her dog passed Donovan on the sidewalk. The horror of seeing a dog wearing a mask sent a shiver down Donovan's spine.
The University of Ottawa was close by. Donovan hadn't been there in about a decade, and he had no plans of returning at all after graduating. But he was familiar with all the secret places to nap on the campus.
There were not many people around, which Donovan was glad about. He figured everyone must be in their classes. The less people the better, Donovan felt like he would stick out in the crowd with his older age, and also the fact of his naked face.
He felt relieved travelling through the campus. Sure there were some new buildings but the old ones remained the same as he remembered. Old memories of events that happened a decade ago kept popping up around each corner. Only the good memories, Donovan had forgotten all the bad ones.
Donovan found a cushioned chair on the upper floor in the library. Secluded and private enough. There was a strong chance that it wasn't the first time he had slept in that very chair.
Donovan took out the remaining beers from his coat pocket. He was too old now to fall asleep anywhere strange when sober. Things have really slipped, thought Donovan. Bumming in a university he had graduated from a decade ago, drinking beers to fall asleep in a chair. Not fitting in and being a complete outsider to the masks. This wasn't his place at all. He wanted to just get the next ticket home, but could he just leave Joe here in this weird society? Joe seemed to be fine, but was he really?
Donovan thought back to his university days with Joe. Donovan was in his final year when Joe started.
"Little Brother, I will show you the ropes. There are tricks no one will tell you, and there are tricks that everyone will tell you that you shouldn't trust. But I'll keep you straight. This place isn't kind to the young and ignorant. It's time to smarten up."
"I know that." Interrupted young Joe.
"Yeah, but you're only seventeen. You're too young to be here. I can teach you how to be twenty one. You'll wander around like a fool otherwise."
Donavan continued, "I just want to look out for you. First year will break you, or make you not want to remember it. But, if you take my advice, maybe you'll be fine. I'll teach you the ways. Simple stuff like where to study, where to eat, where to piss. But more importantly, how to act, and impersonate someone older. And when you're ready, come join my writing club."
Donovan initially started the writing club to meet girls. But then people started to talk about how important the club was to them. "A balm for our broken hearts," was what one girl wrote about the writing club. Donovan wasn't sure if he interpreted it correctly, but he assumed it meant that the club was more important than just himself. Shortly after his brother Joe joined them, Donovan became much more interested in people's writing over actually dating anyone.
As far as Donovan knew, Joe wrote his first story about an Amazon employee collecting orders on New Year's Eve. It was a funny story but also incredibly romantic. A side Donovan never knew Joe had. It was the same with everyone who shared stories in the club; their stories showed a side that they kept hidden. And Donovan was fascinated by it. Donovan thought he'd know a person but when he read their writing he realized he didn't really know them at all. Their writing was naked. It showed what they really felt and thought.
Joe was boringly smart. He studied and succeed in school. That was that. At least that's how Donovan viewed him. But his writing was romantic. Donovan could not piece the two together. The façade of Joe's personality was just too wide of a difference.
Donovan awoke as the sun was beginning to peak above the horizon. He felt sore and old. The campus was empty with the occasional exhausted person passing by, everyone keeping to themselves.
Donovan needed his coffee and was almost tempted to get it on campus to relive the past, but decided it was probably better to leave history alone and go somewhere else.
Donovan grabbed his coffee from a Tim Hortons before taking the number 61 bus to Kanata.
Meanwhile, Joe chugged his morning coffee and grabbed his mask. There was new crack on the mask. Joe wondered if it was from last night. He was sure he had checked after Donovan left. He didn't want to go back to the repair store again. Joe had the warranty, but what was the point? It would always be a cracked mask compared to Paul's flawless X2 Mask.
Joe traced the crack with his finger. He got on his computer and typed an email to his supervisor saying he was sick today. Once sent, Joe covered his face with the damaged mask and caught the 61 bus.
Joe worked on his laptop while on the bus. Half way there, Joe was interrupted by a stranger, "You got a nasty crack on your mask. You ought to get that fixed."
Joe acknowledged the man with a nod but otherwise ignored the comment and resumed his work.
It had been some time since Joe last visited the house. It was inconvenient to get to. But mainly, it had made him depressed to see his father alone in the old house. Out of sight, out of mind. Besides, work kept him too busy even if he wanted to visit.
Joe unlocked the front door and entered. Music was coming from upstairs of the split-level house. Old music. Familiar music. From the dining room.
Joe climbed up the stairs. He recognized the song, he remembered car rides with the family. Driving along the ocean, listening to David Bowie.
Donovan was in the dining room, along with a pair of speakers set up on the dining table.
Donovan looked up, "Your mask is cracked."
Joe looked back at Donovan, "You got a nasty bruise on your face."
"I guess I need a mask to cover that up."
Donovan got out of his seat and the brothers hugged.
"I was searching through all of Mom and Dad's stuff, partly cause it's all in my god damn room. Anyways I found all their old theatre costumes and stuff."
"I completely forgot about that," laughed Joe.
"They had some wild costumes back in the day. But most importantly they got some fancy…"
Donovan donned a crow masquerade mask. A black beak stuck out and sparkly jewels surrounded the watchful eyes, finally ending with feathers along the back.
Joe laughed and Donovan followed. Joe laughed until he cried.
"I miss them."
"Yeah me too."
"I guess we gotta plan a funeral huh?"
"Yeah."
2 weeks later
Donovan picked up Mae from the Ottawa Airport in his rented car.
"How was your flight?" asked Donovan.
"Not too bad. Where are these masked citizens?" Mae eagerly asked looking out the car window as Donovan drove.
"You'll spot them."
"So are all the funeral arraignments made?"
"Everything should be good. Oh, check the back, I got your mask."
Mae grabbed a mask from the back, "Wow it's beautiful. A bear."
"No hands off, that's my mask. Yours is the other."
Mae giggled and found the raccoon mask. "I love it. Are all the masks this fancy?"
"Eh not quite. We got a little lazy after making a few. Well you'll see."
Donovan drove the car towards the funeral home.
They arrived a few minutes later than Donovan would have liked.
"Okay Mae, make sure you keep your mask on. Otherwise, and I'm serious, people will freak out."
"I'll try my best."
They both pulled their masks on, attempted to kiss but quickly failed and stepped out of the car to join the reception.
Mae kept close to Donovan as he talked to the organizers making sure everything was going as scheduled. Several small change rooms were set up at the entrance for all the guests to exchange their usual masks with the special funeral masks hand-made by the Booker brothers. All the new masks were flamboyant designs of various birds and animals.
"But is my mask going to be safe in storage? This is an X2 Pale White Mask. You know how valuable this is?"
One the staff replied, "Rest assured it'll be safe."
The X2 Mask man stepped aside and Donovan approached the helper, "Have you seen my brother?"
"I believe he's somewhere outside at the back."
Sure enough, Donovan found Joe pacing behind the building. He wore an exquisite falcon mask that had feathers shooting out from one side leaving the other side bare, revealing half of his pale pretty face.
Mae opted to stay inside and let Donovan have a moment alone with Joe. Donovan saw that his brother was holding a piece of paper and figured it was his speech for the ceremony.
"You should have let me edit your speech."
"You would have ruined it," replied Joe.
"Give me credit, I was the better writer."
"You wish."
They both paused, Joe looked out to nowhere and Donovan looked at Joe.
"You look good," Donovan complimented.
"I feel naked."
"That's good. That means it's worth doing."
"That's something Dad would say."
"Probably."
Joe turned to look at Donovan, "I guess we should go in eh."
"Yep."
Joe took in a deep breath and nodded.
Donovan was impressed by Joe's eulogy. A little long, and probably could've been edited down, but beautiful nonetheless. Back at the house, the rest of the day went by splendidly. Donovan stood back in the sidelines while Joe took charge of hosting the event. This wasn't Donovan's place, he didn't know many of the guests, but he did feel comfort by being among them. Everyone here was wearing the beautiful masks that he and his brother had made. It was more spectacular than Donovan could have imagined.
Donovan finally got a chance to chat with Joe as the final guests left. Most took their new masks with them, and some even wore them home.
"That went well," commented Donovan tiredly.
"I don't know what I'll do, I can't go back to the typical boring masks," said Joe with a sparkle in his eye.
"Then don't go back. Keep wearing it."
"Yeah but then I'll be alone."
"So what? Don't subscribe to something bad because it's what everyone else does. It's good to copy somebody when they're cool, like David Bowie. The norm is depressing. So declare your independence."
"I think you've drank too much wine."
"Maybe so."
The brothers paused to relax on the couch, observing the mess they would have to clean up tomorrow.
Joe broke the silence and asked, "What about you? Are you going to keep wearing your mask when you go back home?"
"God no. I can't believe you wear these all day, they're so inconvenient. How would I even shower in this? Besides I wear my own mask."
"What do you mean? What does your mask look like?"
Donovan removed the bear mask and lazily pulled his hair back and stared at Donovan seriously with a stern face. With a humorful deep voice Donovan said, "Good evening. Martini, shaken, not stirred."
"Your mask is ridiculous."
"Says the man with the falcon mask."
"Dad would have liked my mask more."
"You're probably right."
The brothers fell asleep on the couch. Tomorrow they would resume their argument over whose mask was better.
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