Everything You Are
I want you to see me
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The music grew even louder as the white doors, adorned with gold, opened wide and let me step onto the dark wood parquet. The crystal chandeliers, hanging under a very high, artful ceiling, shone bright, warm light onto the dancing pairs, the musicians in the corner, and the people resting on the puffy, white benches alongside the walls.
A servant in a white bunny mask adorned with diamonds came closer to me, holding a tray of champagne glasses. I politely refused the offer and watched her walk away.
How did a servant come across such a rich mask? Either a rich woman wanted to remain completely incognito this evening, or the pay in this establishment was obscene indeed.
“Oh, Mr. Hoffermann!” A fat and stubby man on the nearest bench spoke to attract my attention. His companions, a woman and a man, also turned their masks towards me.
“Long time no see, Mr. Bak.” I shook his wide hand while politely looking into the eye openings of his small and simple silver mask. “Are you dancing or watching?”
“Of course I dance!” He laughed. “I’m a wee-bit tired, but I’ll dive back in in just a second.”
As I said something else to him and excused myself, I wondered whether he was simply attached to his old mask, which had once fit his face. Come to think of it, I also revised my mask collection a long time ago. Did my today’s mask actually fit me? Would I even know?
I stared at myself in the mirror that lined the three windowless walls. There was nothing out of the ordinary about my steel visage of a hawk, adorned with rubies and wood. Yet, I was so used to it that maybe my eyes were deceiving me?
“Don’t worry, sir, you do look fabulous,” announced a bright voice, barely loud enough to be heard over the music.
I looked down, and my breath stopped.
Her fox mask was adorned with ginger fur and amber. The silver silk dress sat weightlessly on her athletic body. Her pose on the bench was dignified and graceful, and the slight tilt of her head spoke of curiosity. She was alone, and so no one could have overheard her words or been a hindrance to the two of us.
Feeling the rising tension and a weird kind of courage, I approached. “May I?”
She nodded toward her right, and I sat down right where her head had pointed, making sure not to show my fear.
“Thank you for the compliment,” I exhaled, staring into the green eyes behind the mask, and taking in a sweet aroma of her perfume. “Yet, my looks are nothing compared to yours.”
Half-turned towards me, she nodded slightly. “Thank you, I know. Yet, none of us has to achieve perfection. All we need from one another today is the desire to dance. You do awaken such a desire in me, yet are your skills as good as your appearance? I know that hawks rarely dance.”
Smiling at her challenge, I offered her my hand, driven by adrenaline. “Hawks do dance. Yet, what is your name?”
“Miriam.” She took it, and the warm touch of the calloused skin sent goosebumps all over my body. “What do I call you, Mr. Hoffermann?”
“Call me Werner, please.”
~*~
Indeed, Miriam was right to question my dancing skills. Or rather, my stamina. Maybe it was low in general, or perhaps only compared to hers, but I was out of breath and exhausted by the time she seemed to have only warmed up. Yet, she gracefully led me to the benches and told me more than I ever wanted to know about the construction and function of the automatic gearboxes.
We danced again, rested, and danced. Being so close to her and feeling her touch made my head spin and sharpened all my senses. But it could not continue forever. The evening turned into night, and it was time to go home.
“Will you gift me another such night, Miriam?” My question was.
Her smiling voice answered. “It was my pleasure, Werner, and I hope to repeat this day at your convenience.”
We left the building and went down the sidewalk in opposite directions, but I hoped that her thoughts were with me, just as my thoughts were recounting the events of this night.
~*~
“Give me your wallet!”
My heart raced, and my breathing was fast and shallow. The evening suddenly became so cold and dark. Why did I decide to cut through a dark alley while walking home? Sure, for the past few days, most of my thoughts were about Miriam, but could I have been that distracted?
“Didn’t you hear me? Put your hand into your pocket and hand me your wallet!”
The substantial-looking knife shone in the darkness, sending shivers down my spine. Yet even though it was pointing at me, the hand holding it appeared to be shaking just a tiny bit. My eyes went up, and I saw red, contorted lips on a pale, scared face. Yet, even as her physiognomy changed constantly, the dark eyes stared at me with focus and resolve.
“Calm down, please!” I raised my empty palms between her and me. “I can see you’re scared. Just turn around and walk away. There’s no evidence you’ve done anything, and my word alone means nothing, so you are completely safe. Just walk away.”
I had to listen to the drum beat of my heart for only one second, and then a footstep moved that knife closer to me. Now I could see the markings from the earrings on her ears. The face stopped being just an expression and became a map of tiny pores, wrinkles, and the markings of time. There was nothing else in this world except for that face.
Her lips parted. “Yes, I am scared. Scared people do stupid shit. So don’t test your luck, mister, and drop your wallet to the ground.”
I swallowed, and my hand dove into my pocket to do just that.
“Step back!”
I obeyed.
Keeping an eye on me, the mugger scooped the folds of leather, showed them into her pocket, and backed down into the shadows.
~*~
I should have been shaken, and I should’ve called the police, yet I just went home and stood in front of my mask collection on the wall. That pale face, full of life and expression, occupied my thoughts. There was no way to find her now. As the sun rises, she’d put on one of her masks and would become unrecognizable. Well, aside from her eyes, but I didn’t memorize the iris pattern well enough to distinguish her eyes from somebody else’s. So, there was no way now to find her and ask her why.
Why wasn’t she wearing a mask? Was it a way to stay unrecognized? A middle finger to society? Or maybe she somehow lost all of her masks and didn’t have even a piece of cloth or cardboard with the cutouts for eyes?
My attention switched to my own visages. They all had their own facial expression, but did any of them match what I had in my head right now? Did they have markings so fine and numerous as the face of my muggers? Well, yes. The masks were physical, so they weathered as any face would. But unlike masks, faces were also affected by the body’s chemistry. So, faces had a higher capacity to bear marks, but those additional marks were accidental and beyond the wearer’s control. These additional marks weren’t evidence of the wearer’s individuality, so were they truly meaningful?
As I followed this train of thought, my mind returned to Miriam. If I ever wanted to see her face, what would open to me? Would it be more meaningful than seeing one of her masks? I would still see her eyes, hear her voice, and learn what she had on her mind, so would seeing a face be important?
What about me? What if she were to ask the impossible of me? Would she do it and why? Would such a request be truly impossible? Why? Should I just suggest that? Should I take off my mask without saying anything or expecting a reaction?
There were so many hard questions, and so I just pondered them, looking at the wall of my masks until the first rays of the morning sun.
~*~
As I walked to the house hosting the next dance night, I observed the people around me. Some masks were papier mâché, others were made of wood, plastic, metal, and even glass. They were small and big, long and round, colorful and plain, decorated and modest. Yet, I could not seem to find the answer to the question buzzing in my head: did they fit their wearers?
I didn’t even know what the criteria could be. Should a mask look good on a person, or was it appropriate to show internal turmoil and doubt by wearing a mask that is either too big or too small for one’s head? Should a mask be clean and look brand-new, the same way we wash our faces every day, or was it appropriate to keep the dirt and scratches on the outer surface to say something to the whole world? Should we at least make new masks and throw away the old ones, the way our skin cells are replaced regularly?
Occupied by those thoughts, I entered the building.
“You are early today, Mr. Hoffermann,” a servant remarked, taking my coat.
I probably answered something polite, but my mind was far away.
The music and the dances had barely started, and the ballroom was mostly empty. I sat on a puffy, white bench and continued thinking. Some time passed.
“Lovely to see you again!” Miriam’s bright voice pulled me back into the present.
Her green eyes shone through the openings of today’s mask of a black bird I could not recognize. Her today’s dress was heavy and complex, and yet her demeanor was most friendly and nonchalant.
“Dance with me, Werner, and whatever’s on your shoulders will fall off.”
Was I so obvious? Yet, there was something else on my mind. Something important. Something I had to do right now!
“It can wait a few minutes.” I stood up with such energy that Miriam took half a step back. “Come…”
I grabbed her calloused hand and led us to one of the small back rooms. There were no questions or resistance. The space was tiny and dimly lit, hosting only a comfy sofa. The string music quieted as I closed the door. Miriam sat down, leaning forward, waiting for what I was about to say. But something told me that all her guesses, if she had any, were wrong.
“I want you to see me, Miriam.” I sat close to her. “The real me, not what I’ve created.”
Maybe I should’ve asked for permission, perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick, but my hand jumped towards my mask in an attempt to pull it up and reveal my face.
Her hand was also fast, and it stopped mine.
“Werner.” Keeping her hand on my mask, she pulled herself even closer to me. I could almost see my own reflection in her eyes.
“The gesture is lovely, it really is, and it tells me a lot. Yet…” Her head shook. “I already see the real you. You chose the materials of your masks, the patterns, the colors, the shape, and everything else. You’ve made them with your own hands. And every day, you put them on in a unique manner. I already see the real you, and every one of your masks is one layer of your complexity. Yet…”
She squeezed my hand into hers, rendering me breathless and enchanted.
“I would like to one day help you make a new mask, and I would be delighted to let you do the same for me.”
And I gazed into her eyes, seeing her doing the same, and the connection and understanding between us was absolute.
We stayed in that room, just the two of us, for a while longer, and then went dancing. And the dance was all-new, not at all resembling the one when we first met. We were no longer separable, no longer strangers, and the mask on her face became her. She was more beautiful and complex than ever, and I intended to fully explore everything she was until my very last day.
The End
Anton Anderson, 2026
Lovely 🥰