Last year when I heard
someone use the expression, “game face,” a story began to germinate in my mind
until it became this storyette. (Not to be confused with its longer cousin, the
short story). Recently I’ve been thinking about societal game faces. They play
an important role in our daily routine as we are always “Fine thanks,” to every
“How are you?” in spite of unrelenting pain, both physical and emotional. Or,
another example, getting ready for an
interview, you prepare your face with make up and just the right smile to showcase
your intelligence, and, perhaps, reveal a hint of subservience. Naturally, in
this instance, your face must also scream team player. So . . .nothing
really harmful about these masks. They get us through, serve a purpose, do no harm.
But I began thinking about other masks we clamp on, masks that hide hurt or
loneliness. Embarrassment or confusion. Fear or hopelessness. I imagine this
type of game face can cause permanent ruin, and because one often hides raw
wounds behind such a convincing facade, no one is aware that the person has
long ago forgotten how to take off the disguise and look in the mirror. What do you think of the
following story? While hopefully we
rarely come across the rough-talkers and fierce-snarlers that Jillian
encountered, we most certainly have our own fiends that challenge us. Dear
reader, what part does a game face play in your life?
Game Face
“Must be a Picasso,” Jillian grumbled
to herself as her cab shot down the four lane street past the garish graffiti.
Bright red and yellow paint was splashed across one of the gray tenements in
the sprawling city. The irreverent art was punctuated by bold, dark symbols of
defiance and unrest. Within minutes of passing the disturbing scene, the cab slowed
abruptly and edged along amid an impatient convoy, each vehicle panting out
blackened, toxic waste.
Jillian
began to fidget in the back seat as she reached for her briefcase. “Excuse me, it’s just two blocks away. Just
let me out; I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
The
driver’s eyes darted up to the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of the classy
woman. “Bad neighborhood here.”
“I’ll
be fine. It’s broad daylight.”
The
traffic had come to a full stop now; the driver craned his head around to give
his full attention to his insistent passenger. “Don’t matter about the light. Dirt
bags here, drugs and all. Ain’t no place for . . . .”
Jillian
frowned and began rummaging around in her designer handbag. “Just tell me how
much I owe you for this far?”
The
cab lurched forward a few feet as the driver yelled over his shoulder. “I told
you . . . .”
“Look,
do you want to get paid or not?”
“O-k,
O-k. Whatever. $15.95 to here.”
Jillian
thrust two tens toward the driver and literally jumped out of the cab into the
snarled traffic. Just as she crossed in front of another cab that was idling next to hers, traffic started to
slowly roll. A cacophony of blaring horns and bellowing curses demanded that
she get out of the way.
Jillian
reached the safety of the sidewalk and teetered precariously in her three inch
heels on the uneven pavement. The
vehicular swarm gathered some momentum and began leaving her behind. She
reddened with rage as several drivers called out and saluted her with obscene
gestures as traffic sluggishly made its way down the street. Suddenly the log jam was completely freed, and
the flotsam and jetsam quickly rushed past on the sweltering concrete current.
As
Jillian made her way down the street, the crumbling sidewalk seemed to undulate
beneath her. It became impossible to
maintain her usual sophisticated demeanor, and instead,
she struggled against becoming a comic portrayal of intoxication. Weeds had
gained hold in most of the sidewalk’s cracks, and every few yards the concrete
had heaved up to form peaks as if an earthquake had struck. After Jillian had
managed to maneuver half way down the long city block, she paused for a moment,
and as she lifted her eyes from the uneven path, she became aware of two male
figures in the distance. Instinctively, she looked to see if the street was
clear to cross so she could continue on her way without a face-to-face
encounter with the men. It was then that she noticed the solid wooden barrier
across the street. The temporary wall, covered with flyers and torn paper fragments, had been erected to
cordon off a massive construction project. It extended for the remainder of the block and
took in all of the sidewalk space, leaving Jillian no alternative but to remain
on her current route. The two disheveled men were leaning
against a power pole and looked up listlessly as Jillian approached. She kept her eyes on the sidewalk, not
wanting to meet their gaze or lose her footing on the crumbling walkway.
“Well,
what’s this?” The shorter man drawled.
As
his friend’s cigarette dangled from his whiskered mouth, he shouted to Jillian
who was, by now, just a few feet away. “Ya lost, you purdy little thing?”
Jillian
recoiled from the coarse language and worked hard to keep from running or
raising her eyes as she stepped from the curb and into the gutter to walk
around the leering men.
“Hey,
be careful of them purdy shoes, missy. Plenty of room for ya up here.” Jillian continued in the slippery, mud-choked
gutter until she was well around the men. She stepped back up onto the sidewalk
and, never lifting her eyes, continued on her way. Jillian could hear the men’s relentless
heckling. The taunting laughter seemed to close in on her as their words became
increasingly menacing and obscene.
When
she rounded the corner, she quickened her pace. The hollow sound of her heels
hitting the pavement echoed, making her retreat feel surreal and measured in erratic, slow
motion. The men were pursuing her, she
was certain, matching their pace to hers.
Jillian
grabbed off her shoes, gripping them along with her purse and briefcase. An old
chain link fence stretched along the sidewalk, enclosing a small, neglected
lot. Tall weeds and litter filled the otherwise empty space. As the walk sloped
abruptly, Jillian fell against the fence, snagging her hose and scratching her
leg on an errant wire. As she quickly examined the blood trickling down her
leg, she was startled by the sound of something crashing against the fence. A
large, black German shepherd hurled his body against the faltering boundary. As
he launched himself at the fence over and over, his vicious bark and exposed
teeth chilled Jillian, leaving her unable to move for several seconds. Suddenly
a portion of the fence began to yield with each onslaught. The beast continued
its terrifying rampage, the vile clamor reverberating long after Jillian turned
onto a safe street, a welcoming street, her
street.
Breathlessly,
Jillian wrenched open the ornate double doors of the towering building that
housed her office. Quickly crossing to the elevator, she punched twelve and leaned against the wall,
working hard to control her inefficient gasping for air.
As
the elevator doors slid open, Jillian made her way to the ladies’ room three
doors down the hallway. She quickly surveyed the damage of her nightmarish
flight. It was then she became aware that she was still tightly clutching her
shoes in her right hand. She dropped them
to the floor, slipped off the ruined hose, and mechanically went about wetting
tissues to clean the dried blood from her leg.
With
trembling hands, Jillian began to repair her make up and straighten her prim, tailored
suit. Every sound startled her as the men’s disgusting jeers and the dog’s
threatening advances ricocheted throughout her body. She hit the buttons on all the hand dryers in
order to mask any sounds and glanced warily into every corner to be assured
that malevolence had not pursued her into this refuge.
Although
she knew that her secretary would be troubled that she was late, Jillian remained
there, looking intently at the wild-eyed, vulnerable image in the mirror. Finally,
she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. As she slowly exhaled, she opened her
eyes to see that the previous terrified reflection had now been replaced with a
confident façade. At last she picked up her belongings and started boldly for
her office, ready to begin another challenging game.
