Everyone wears a mask. It’s something I discovered long ago. That everyone, no matter who, or how they presented themselves, wore a mask. Whether the mask is to shield themselves, project something onto another person, or deceive themselves or the other person, it doesn’t matter. They were all the same masks. Masks to make people think you’re who you’re not.
Masks of purity, masks of loyalty, masks that evoke trust, masks that induce sympathy. All of them real in their own sense, yet most of them false. Do you want to know what my mask is? I guess it's pretty obvious. The unveiler of masks. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? But it’s true. That's who I am. It was a gift, not a curse. Something I was proud of, even if the disadvantage was I couldn’t get to unravel people since the evidence was always right before me.
I knew I was different from that fateful incident seventeen years ago. I was five then and didn’t know that I had a gift. Mom was about to procure a blender from a door-to-door salesman. He’d marketed that faulty blender so well, Mom was sold and was already beginning to count bills. Maybe I wouldn’t have said anything, and just let her see for herself, till he made that statement.
“Telling you ma’am. You buy this blender, you would never need another till your little girl’s first kid.”
It had sounded ridiculous, even to my five-year-old mind. But Mom glanced at me with a smile and nodded her head pensively like she was contemplating the Gospel. I couldn’t hold it then. The man’s funny hat that showed his crooked nature, his over-enthusiastic smile that just showed how eager he was to let go of the faulty blender he’d picked from the pawn shop a few nights ago, his silly analogy, it was all too much. And before I knew it, I burst into a long, loud laughter, even rolling on the floor for effect.
“Stephanie!” Mum was appalled. “Get up from the floor this very instant.” I kept giggling and she glanced at the salesman who kept tapping his feet rhythmically, and looking at me like I was loony. All that was an attempt to hide his obvious impatience. I got up gracefully from the floor.
“I’m sorry Mom, but he’s lying.” I pointed at the salesman, even though that was my Mom’s number one rule. Never to point fingers at others. More literal than figurative.
Mom’s face reddened. “Drop that finger at once. What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m telling you, Mom. The blender is bad. He’s lying.” I’d looked at him and seen him shuffling his feet, his mask off and his spiteful glare fixed on my face.
“This is insane!” The salesman thundered. “I’ve been in this business for many years. How dare-”
“I’m sorry Sir.” Mum blanched. “My daughter is never like this. Don’t take offence.”
“I’m telling you, Mom. Why aren’t you-”
“Stephanie Jacobs, that is enough!” Mom got so red, I thought she’d spontaneously combust. I started shuffling my little feet backwards. Seeing my wide-eyed expression, she sighed and softened her tone. “Move to your room, please.”
I ran upstairs without looking back but I knew my Mom bought the blender still. I’d seen the salesman from my window as he whistled a discordant tune, hands empty of the blender. I was in my room for the whole day and only came down when I heard my Mom exclaiming. The blender had been whirring when it suddenly let out a screech and I heard liquid land soggily all over the place. It had gone bad and she didn’t even get to use it twice. She caught my eye from the edge of the door but I backpedalled and ran back to my room. I’d tried.
And so, my life was. I’d learnt to keep my opinions to myself and not tell Debby Sue that the quarterback only walked up to her that day because he had plans of standing her up during Prom. But what started as fun soon became devastating. It was disheartening the kind of ulterior motives people who approached others had. I barely had any friends in high school and even throughout college, I had just about two friends. I’d scrutinized their masks. Other than the low self-esteem that Cassy had which she tried to hide and Mark’s insecurities, they were warm people and so I made them my friends. My only friends and helped them where I could.
Now here I was, sitting on a bench and trying not to reveal the masks that people carried as they walked back and forth around the park that evening, I didn’t notice the guy who had sat on the bench beside me till he spoke.
“What’s up, Steph Jacobs.” I turned to him with a jolt, my eyes widening and then narrowing infinitesimally. He was pretty. Too pretty. I was immediately wary. The gorgeous ones were always trouble.
“Who are you and how do you know my name?”
“I think the question here, Mask Unveiler is, how did you manage to find me when I’ve tried to keep a low profile all these years?”
I wasn’t impressed. “Okay, creep. Nice talking to you. I’ll be on my way now.” I stood up to leave but he held my arm fast.
“Please listen. I have a job for you.” I stared into his eyes and tried to scrutinize his mask. Damn, there was nothing shady. Plain honesty and a tad of urgency lurking in the depths of his cobalt blue eyes. Somehow the fact that his mask showed genuineness scared me more than any other mask I'd ever scrutinised. Reluctantly, I sat down.
“Okay.” I relented. What do you want from me?”
