Mask Off

Fred felt like thousands of eyes pierced his back in the mall. But he couldn’t come to the funeral without flowers, so he had to brave the masses, mask up, and tell himself people just didn’t know any better. They weren’t worth his time.

Like his classmates back in primary school.

“Son,” his father said to him back then, “don’t let ‘em get to you.”

Dad told him his classmates were suckers that didn’t know how to have fun, after Fred came home crying from show and tell day. So that’s what Fred told them the next time, when he brought his second botched miniature. If he remembered correctly, it was a yellow elf.

“Son, don’t let ‘em get to you.”

Going past the game store, Fred wondered if Steve had told the others about them meeting in the park. Would he mention the mask? The hell with them, if they’d have a laugh about it, or shake their heads in disbelief.

At least the young cashier in the small florist he entered, seemed more occupied with her phone than with his mask.

“Good morning,” Fred mumbled.

Her straw-like blonde hairs hid most of her face, save for her perky nose. If she had even acknowledged his presence, no doubt she would have rolled her eyes at the sight of him. Or maybe she ignored him precisely because of his mask. The hell with her then, if she’d not even uphold the most basic of manners, just because she thinks that he’s weird.

“Son, don’t let ‘em get to you.”

As Fred browsed the shop, he tried to remember his father’s favorite color. But he just couldn’t think of it. He pictured Dad outside on the front porch, the last few times they met, and felt he owed him an apology. How Fred had shouted at Dad not to go out, but Dad kept on meeting his old group he’d known for thirty years. And now Fred couldn’t even pick the perfect bouquet.

He went past the flowers a third time. Fred always tarried in the game store, when Dad would buy him a miniature. One time, he mulled over the many options present for half an hour, not being able to settle for a wizard or barbarian. It was one of the few times Fred saw his father annoyed.

“Son,” Dad finally said, “if you keep on mulling over what to pick, you’ll always end up with regret.”

Always end up with regret. A first impression beats thinking it over. When he came into the store, simple white roses immediately tickled his fancy. He grabbed a bouquet of those, and knocked on the wooden counter.

“Good morning,” he said again.

The cashier swiped something on her phone, put it down, and slid part of her hair past her right ear. “Hi…”

Silently she scanned the bouquet, sluggish, as if the flowers were filth. She half-closed her one visible eye, and let out a drawn-out sigh, followed by a yawn, like she didn’t want to be here with Fred. It must be because of his mask. Nobody likes it. Surely she disapproved of his decision to protect himself. Why else would she act this way? Yet Fred couldn’t believe his own conclusion. Wouldn’t it be better for business to just stay friendly to all? They don’t need to act like they’re probably doing at the game store, if Fred would show up.

To distract himself from his ruminations, he glanced at her name tag. Daisy.

“Uhm, receipt?” Daisy asked. She sounded like a customer training had pressured her to always ask this, when she’d rather not.

“Yes, I wear a face mask,” Fred said.

“Uhm, okay.” Daisy closed her eyes as she pulled her earring and slowly blew air.

“What’s that to you?”

“Sir, I-”

“I’m trying to protect myself.” Fred swiped his card fast past the terminal. It returned an error. “Deal with it.”

“You-”

“Some people want to protect themselves… Daisy.” Fred swiped again.

“Sir… I’m tired…” Daisy put a torn receipt on the counter. “I’m having a bad day.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Daisy stared down. “I know…”

“What the world does revolve around, is keeping each other safe during a goddamn pandemic.”

A tear wet the crumbled receipt. “Sir, please-”

“You selfish brat.” Fred stormed out.