The Masks We Wear by Lee Jacquot

 

SEVEN

 

Idon’t give a fuck about what happened. Not even a little bit.

Did I expect it? No. Though, in retrospect, I should have felt it somewhere in between her moments of slight hesitation. But with Lily’s body melded to mine, and her arms wrapped around me, it was like she wanted me, and I let that stupid ass moment melt my guard. It liquified from the heat of her touch, and I fell for it.

Hook.

Line.

And sinker.

Still, I didn’t want to risk the slight chance of her getting the best of me in class. So I took a day off. Then it turned into two days, and soon it was a week. I don’t regret it. Not seeing her for six days has given me time—to think, plan, and spend it with my mother.

I’ve been able to take her to a couple of therapy sessions, which is where I am now. Sitting in the hard plastic chair next to her, I scroll on my computer, searching for more ways to test my experiment’s hypothesis.

How can different gradient colors affect human behavior and conversation?

My old partner, Maurice, and I already had a plan—script included, though I’m not sure how I’m going to pull it off now. I could ask Remy, I know she would help, but that would be selfish. She has her own project to worry about–even if she won’t benefit from the prize.

Solace Scholarship.

Still, the idea of working with my foul blonde partner swirls what little contents are in my guts, making me nauseous.

I huff, closing my laptop with a snap.

“What’s wrong, honey?” My mother’s voice is the softest I’ve ever heard. It’s like she’s in a perpetual confessional and everything needs to be handled delicately. She tugs the pink shawl around her thin shoulders, leaning into me, letting her long gray locks brush over my bicep. “You can tell me.”

I spare her a gentle smile and shake my head. Even if my mother wasn’t suffering from the onset of dementia, I still wouldn’t worry her with such petty drama. She’s always had a fragile heart when it came to my happiness. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m the miracle baby after fifteen years of infertility or the fact that being a mother at her age makes women a little more sensitive. Either way, I try to wear the mask of contentment well.

Even if it’s only for her.

“You can’t hide it from me, love. I can see it in the little lines on your sweet face.” She closes her big amber eyes and rests into me. “These waves you’re fighting against, hold steady, and hold fast. It will pass, my love.”

Her words warm my body, swelling my heart, and for a second, I forget about everything else. She is all that matters to me. I don’t have time to waste with her. Every moment needs to be filled with her love, advice, or even just her presence. Because soon... she won’t rememb—

“Mrs. Hanes.” A woman in scrubs stands at the door, her clipboard clasps to her chest.

My mother sighs, before patting me on the knee twice and stands. I watch her dandelion dress sway at her ankles as she follows the nurse through the hall, leaving me alone in the waiting room.

The door closes behind her, and minutes pass before my eyes slowly drift back to my computer. I have my list of materials for the project, and the only thing left to do is talk to the head custodian about using an old room. The morning custodian says she works the later shift, so I’ll need to stay after school sometime next week. Other than that and a few tweaks to the script, all that’s left is the research part.

Reopening my computer, I flit through a few more websites, scribbling notes as I go. The color spectrum… how humans perceive light. Color… how our brain transfers data.

Every color affects different living species in multiple ways, each one dependent on other things such as mental health, empathy capacity, and processing abilities. At some point, I even start to make connections with colors and Alzheimer’s patients.

My brain sketch with labeled parts is almost complete when my phone vibrates in my pocket. The irrational hope it’s Lily sets off a hundred butterflies in my gut, but I instantly stamp them out.

Why the fuck would I want to hear from that horrendous bitch?

Remy: Come to the game with me tonight. Pleaseeeeee.

My eyebrows furrow as I ignore my shoulders’ slight deflation and focus on the real surprise here. Remy has never gone to a football game.

Me: Why?

I tap the edge of my phone, tempted to call her and see if she’s sick. I’ve seen her almost every day, but knowing her, she’s read herself into sleep-deprived ramblings.

Remy: Just come. It would help if you got out.

Does she consider going to the game ‘getting out’? Memories of William and I flash through my mind, and I wince at a few. Looking back, more than a few of them are cringe-worthy.

Me: I can’t Remy, I have to work on this project. I’m behind as it is.

It’s not a complete lie, but I’m definitely using it as a scapegoat. I glance at the time. My mom should almost be done, leaving me enough time to stop by the home improvement store for the LED lights.

My phone vibrates again.

Remy: You can’t even work on your project alone. It takes two people. If you come, I’ll help with the script.

I squeeze the phone tighter, the light flutter of hope dancing through me. Her offering does relieve some of the guilt I would have had asking. Still, Lily is a cheerleader, so she’ll be there, and I don’t want to see her if I can help it. No, it’s not worth it.

Just as I open my messages to text her back, my mother re-enters the lobby. Her mouth stretches in a smile as she walks toward me, arms open for a hug. I dutifully oblige, engulfing her in my embrace.

“Good session?” I ask, releasing her.

My mother’s eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lighting, instantly rekindling the warmth in my heart. “It was amazing, honey. Now let’s get Spencer from school early and get him some ice cream. You know he loves ice cream.”

Bile hits the back of my throat, and I struggle to keep it down as my lips stretch into a dull smile. Not only does she think I’m Dad, she thinks I’m Dad from a time they were still together... when everything in my life was perfect.

When I didn’t know Lily.

I swallow the burn and nod, my voice barely a whisper as I lead her out of the office doors. “Sounds great.”

When these moments happen—the times she forgets who I am… it never gets easier. I thought it would. Maybe I would get used to it and learn to cope. But that’s the furthest thing from the truth. It gets harder. It feels impossible to understand how your own mother can look at the son she spent eighteen years raising and not recognize him. No part of me is ingrained deep enough in her mind to help her remember my existence.

It’s like losing someone who’s still here—mourning their loss, just for them to return from the afterlife before fading away again. Then it happens over and over until you’re not sure you can do it another day. But you do. Because the days she remembers… those days are everything.

I feel stuck—lodged in quicksand. I’ve struggled against it for so long, and now I’m waist-deep. Alone...forgotten. The endgame is clear. Now I just have to decide how fast I want to get there.

After securing her in the passenger seat of her smart coupe, I slip my phone from my pocket.

Maybe just this once; I need to forget for a little while too.

Me: See you at 6.

REMY ROTATES IN THE MIRROR, inspecting her outfit of choice. Jeans I didn’t even know she owned hug her wide hips, lifting her ass to a perfect perk. Her small waist is on full display under the tight AC/DC shirt that’s slightly ripped and hanging from one shoulder.

Her eyes catch mine in the reflection, and she twists around, a rose blush tinting her cheeks. “I look stupid, don’t I?”

I decide not to lie since it’s apparent she’s stepping out of her comfort zone. The real question, though, is for who?

“Honestly, Remy, you look hot as fuck.” I smile, leaning back on her fluffy futon, propping my arm across the back.

Her smile widens, and her cheeks push up, nearly causing her eyes to close. “Thanks, Spence.”

My heart stutters. Only one person has ever called me that. Hearing it now from Remy feels... unfamiliar. I clear my throat, shoving the feeling back into the hole it belongs in.

Remy puts her school ID around her neck and shoves on a thin jacket. She tilts her head while looking at me, eyebrows raised, and I notice she’s all but bouncing. I stand and move toward the door at a snail’s pace.

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. “Come on already!”

I yawn, stretching as I put my arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go. Get this over with.”

Remy socks me in the bicep, forcing a laugh from my throat. She threads a hand through her dark hair, her eyes softening.

Being around Remy is easy. It’s carefree and smooth sailing, with no drama or secrets lurking in every corner. I once played with the idea of what it would feel like to be with her. Be with someone so unproblematic. But my body doesn’t hum with the same high it does with…

No.I shake the disturbing thought away. Fuck her.

We load into my truck and make our way toward the game. The ride is refreshingly pleasant as Remy flips on the radio and immerses me into a full-on private concert. Her infectious laugh fills up the cabin as she struggles to hit the high notes. It melts away the tension of my morning, and for the first time in a week, happiness floats through my body.

We pull up to the stadium, and when I pull into a spot, I pause, turning toward Remy. “So, who’s the guy? Am I allowed to know or?”

That same pink tint from earlier paints her face. She shifts, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, and bites into her bottom lip.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me...now,” I joke, turning the ignition off and opening the door. I whip around and open her side, holding my elbow out to support her as she hops out.

We join the large crowd swarming into the stadium. Tonight’s game is against our rivals on the east side of the city, and it seems as if all thirty-five hundred students are here.

Remy agrees to find seats while I grab us some hot chocolate from the concession stand. Luckily, everyone hasn’t made it down yet, so the line isn’t too long. I pull my hoodie up and scroll on my phone while I wait, reading another article on color, when I hear her name.

“Have you seen Lily?” The frail redhead in front of me huddles close to her friend. Her cheeks are rosy, matching her Rudolf nose.

The friend nods. “Yes, that bitch is so freaking pretty it’s sickening. I can’t wait till the halftime show. You know it’s going to be epic.”

My chest tightens, and an ache spreads from the pounding organ.

I don’t care about her. Not anymore.

Repeating the short mantra, I bury my attention in my phone, doing the best I can to ignore the girls and the throbbing between my temples. After about fifteen minutes, with our hot chocolate in tow, I find Remy seated next to the band—far from where the cheerleaders are stationed.

The game actually turns out to be a nail-biter. Defense on both sides keeps either from scoring, and the offense can’t seem to push through. I notice the way Remy sits up a little straighter when Blaze gets the ball or how she gasps when he gets rocked by the opposing team, but I keep my mouth shut.

When halftime comes, the score is still a big goose egg on both sides.

“I’m going to grab us some nachos.” Remy stands and disappears in the flow of people probably doing the same.

I unlock my phone and finish the article I was on. Tonight isn’t so bad. The cool fresh air is nice, and the game is pretty entertaining, to say the least. I spread my legs, leaning an elbow on my knee as I open my text thread with William. He wants to take a road trip to visit, and I know I can’t keep putting him off.

His ass misses me, and I’m not sure our FaceTime tutoring sessions are doing much good. The boy has it made with money and doesn’t think he needs a fucking brain to run his family’s potatoes distributions company in Idaho.

An announcement echoes through the stadium, and I realize the band is on the field. “And for your halftime entertainment, the Emerald Falls very own reigning Regional Champions, EFH cheer squad.”

Everyone in the stands erupts in a furious cheer, rising to their feet as the girls walk across the stage.

My heart picks up pace, but I force my eyes back on my phone, staring at the text when the drums begin their percussion. I do well for a few minutes, but then I feel her. My nerves light up, and a string of goose bumps trail down my arm even though I’m wearing a damn hoodie.

When I look up, Lily’s the first thing I see.

She illuminates the space around her, and everyone else seems to disappear. Her hair whips around in the wind, twirling around her neck and falling in between the valley of her breasts. Her hips move to the beat of the band, her arms whirling around, curling around her body, accentuating her curves.

She’s half goddess, half hell, and she lights my fucking heart on fire.

Lily’s eyes lock with mine, and just like that, every thought I’ve had, and the resilience I’ve built over the last six days, disintegrates in her flames.

The air thickens, leaving me struggling to swallow. The knot in my throat grows and soon breathing becomes harder. She keeps my gaze, rolling slower and jutting her ass out more, while like a dipshit, I greedily eat it up. My dick struggles against the zipper of my jeans, and I think if I clench my teeth any tighter, I may crack my molars.

It feels like ripping two strong-ass magnets apart, but I finally break eye contact and head for Remy. A new revelation washes over me, heating my face to a painful temperature.

Why deny it? Whether I want to or not, I do care. Too goddamn much.

And it pisses me the fuck off.