Game Face

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.