by Spencer Rook
"There is something severely wrong with that boy," Perry said to me, folding his arms across his chest. "What's the matter with you?"
"Your masks will be ready in time. You can pick them up before the festival," I said.
His eyes squinted as he looked up towards the mask shop. "Things didn't go so well, I take it?"
"He kicked me out."
He sighed. "I was afraid things wouldn't work so well. Not to fret, alright? He just needs some time to warm up to new people. He's had it rough."
"He talks to you? I mean, not just about orders and stuff?" I had a feeling Perry knew more about Alexander than he had said before.
He didn't answer, but began leading the way to the residential district, Pat having walked far enough ahead that we wouldn't risk running into him again. "I knew his father. I couldn't let the boy just stay in there alone after he died, could I? He's only sixteen, after all. Fourteen at the time. Jeez, I hadn't even realized. He's been running the shop himself for two years now."
I stared at him, my mouth halfway open. "Wait. You mean he's my age? He makes all of that and he's my age?" It shouldn't have been shocking to me. He had seemed near my age when I first met him, but it was surprising that he was so talented at such a young age.
"For everything that his father was—and he wasn't that good of a man, mind you—he was a damn fine teacher. You saw the things that he can make in there?" I nodded. "I'd venture to guess that he's going to be even better than his father ever dreamed of being."
We had reached my tiny home, where I could see my mother was crouched in the front yard, tending to something in her garden. She always seemed to be out there. I was about to bid farewell to Perry when an idea struck me.
"You know Alexander pretty well then?" I asked.
"I certainly do. Why?"
"What types of things does he like?"
He eyed me for a moment, as if he were arguing with himself over whether or not he should tell me. "He has a fondness for anything that can be made by hand. That's the only hint I'm giving you. Now don't go getting into trouble. You've got to be at practice tomorrow." I nodded and thanked him, watching as he walked along the other small houses on our street. When he left, I said hello to my mother and went inside to think.
So I knew that he liked things that were handmade. That left me with a lot of options and a lot of possibilities to get it wrong. Long after my mother had gone to bed and the sun had set behind the trees, I sat hunched over my desk. My weapons of choice: a knife and a block of dark wood. Not a lot to work with. It wasn't until well after the witching hour that I had produced something that I thought was somewhat presentable. Scrawling a note on a scrap of paper, I attached it to the figurine and snuck back outside into the night.
The roads around town were far more peaceful at night. Fewer people were out and almost all the lights had been extinguished inside the houses and shops. The only light came from tall lamps that had been set up every few yards, creating a pleasant yellow glow across the streets. Even the mask shop seemed more peaceful than it did during the day. The place looked to no longer be menacing, but a regular building with its own sort of beauty. I carefully laid the carving at the front doorstep and returned to my home
*~*~*
As dawn broke and the sun began to creep through my window, I heard a loud knock at my door. My days normally did not start so early, but I managed to pull myself up and out of bed, yawning as I walked to answer it. My mother informed me that there was a visitor waiting for me outside. I felt my heart speed up. Had he known the gift was from me?
"Hello there," said Old Lady Chuff as I opened the door and raised a hand to block the sun from my eyes.
"Mmm, hello there," my voice came out raspy and I had to clear my throat.
"I heard what happened between you and Alexander yesterday." She stood there, smiling as if she were waiting for me to say something.
Nodding, I pushed the conversation along. "Oh, yeah, that. What exactly did you hear?"
"Well, just about how he overreacted. We talked this morning and it seemed like it was really bothering him."
"You talked to him?" Only a few days ago I had been under the impression that no one bothered to talk to him, but both Perry and Lady Chuff seemed to be looking out for him. Several people had the wrong image of him, it seemed.
"Of course I talked to him. We have tea every morning," she laughed.
"You do?"
"Every day for a year or so now. But that's not why I'm here right now. The point is that he feels sorry about what happened and he would like to try talking to you again. If you'll see him, that is. He wants to thank you for something, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. He'll be in his shop today, as usual. It's all up to you if you want to see him."
She nodded her head and moved away from my house as fast as her tiny legs would carry her. I leaned against the doorway, looking as she went back towards town. So there was a lot more to Alexander than I had realized. He wasn't as alone as most people seemed to think. I grabbed my student cloak and headed back into the morning sun.
*~*~*
Seeing his shop in the daylight again, I had to take a moment to compose myself before I could even make it to the porch. My hand on the doorknob, I felt as though I was never going to be able to turn it. After a few deep breaths, I opened it slowly. The bell sounded above me and I walked back into the darkness, the masks staring at me once again.
"Hello?" I wanted him to know that it was me in case he had changed his mind about seeing me again.
"You came back." He sounded relieved.
"Of course I did. I'm sorry about yesterday."
"No, that was my fault. I overreacted with you. I'm sorry."
I shook my head, though I wasn't sure if he could see me. "Really, it's alright. I shouldn't have asked to see you. For some reason, I didn't realize that you wouldn't want me to."
There was a rustling behind a shelf to my left. I could see something moving in the shadows. Finally, a figure appeared in front of me, filling up the space between a zebra shaped mask and one that looked like a gnome.
"I'm just used to people who don't like to actually face me while doing business. You know, 'Leave the mask on the counter; I'll leave the money and go.' You were only being nice and I should have realized that. Sorry. Again."
The stories about him aside, I couldn't understand why anyone would not want to talk to him. He was dressed from head to foot in black, just like he had been so many years ago, but he was beautiful. His hair was shaggier than it had been when we were children, but it still covered his eyes. He was very pale, with full lips that were a bright red. This was not the image of a monster, but a beautiful boy.
"Hello? Do you want me to go in the back again? Look, I understand what people say about me and I understand if you can't handle seeing me now that you have." He didn't sound sad, but as if he had expected this to happen. I wondered if it had happened before.
"No! I'm sorry. I guess I just must be tired or something. I got up not too long ago, and it's hot as usual outside. But the cool in here is helping to wake me up," I said. Sure, it was hot outside, but that wasn't what left me speechless.
He brightened a little and gave a faint smile. "Well, I'm glad that you enjoy it. I can't stand the heat while I'm working." He paused as he adjusted a mask that was on a rack next to him. "Now, about your masks from yesterday. As of right now, they're all done except for one. I had been hoping Perry would be by sometime soon so that I could talk to him about it, but it seems that everything has worked out. Thanks for saving me the trouble."
"You're already that far along?" Apparently Perry was right. He did have a good work ethic. Had we been responsible for making our masks, they wouldn't have been done until the day after graduation, and then they probably would have just been potato sacks with holes.
"Yeah, I'm almost done with everything. They were easy for the most part. I'm just having a little trouble with the last one. Perry was ve
ry specific about individual personalities, but he was having a hard time pegging down one of his students."
"Is there any chance that I could see what you've done?" After I said it, I was worried that I was going to scare him off again. Not that long ago, I had been frightened about seeing him, but not anymore; he was nice and he was adorable. The fact that his mask work was fascinating to look at didn't hurt matters either.
He raised his eyebrows, a surprised look on his face. "You'd actually like to see what I'm working on?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, if you're alright with showing me. I don't want to intrude on your process or anything."
"No! That's alright. Feel free to follow me back to my workshop. I'm just not used to people wanting to actually see what I do," he said, motioning for me to follow him while he walked back behind the gap.
Passing through the row, we came into a circular room that didn't have walls, but cabinets that held more masks. There was a small desk with a candle sitting off to one side. The rest of it was littered with small tools, wood chippings, and a rather large chunk of wood that had been partially whittled down to form the basis of a face.
"Sorry about the mess. Like I said, not used to having visitors who want to see what I do for work," he said, brushing aside some of the trimmings.
"Looks a lot cleaner than where I've had to be for the past few days," I said, thinking about sweating out in the field.
"You're a student of Perry's?" he asked, motioning to my cloak.
"Yeah, I am. This thing is kind of like a bull's-eye, isn't it? Let's everyone know exactly who I am and what I'm up to," I said, taking it off and folding it over my arm.
"I know the feeling." He it was almost whispering. "Well, now. Maybe you can help me. I was hoping that I would have a bit of luck and get some inspiration for this one, but nothing ever came." He pointed to the block on his desk.
"What a coincidence," I said, "my name's Luk."
He stopped and looked at me for a second, squinting at my face. "Luk?"
"That's what they call me."
"I knew it was you." He said, reaching into his desk and pulling out the piece I had carved for him the night before. Although I was hesitant to make it for him, I had decided that a large and bulbous slug with cartoonish eyes would be the optimal gift, though it looked comical resting in his hand.
Alexander remembered me. "And I knew it was you, too."
His eyes looked me up and down a few times, examining me. "It's a good thing that you're here then."
He sat the sculpture on his desk and smiled at it. From where I was standing, I could see the note I had written to him that read, "With some luck, I'll see you again." It was a cheesy thing to say, but it seemed perfect when I had been sleep deprived.
"Why's that?" Why could he possibly need me here?
"It's your mask that I can't seem to figure out."
Alexander used his thumb to point to a shelf behind him, where a collection of five masks were on display. Each of them was in the shape of an animal, which was the traditional custom of every Festival of Parth. Each candidate for graduation was given a mask that the maker deemed to be a proper representation of that person.
"I've got one for every other member of your class, but you were the complicated one," he smiled weakly. It was his attempt at a joke.
"Out of morbid curiosity, which one of these belongs to Pat?"
He immediately reached up and plucked one from the shelf that was in the style of a confused looking donkey.
"That looks about right," I laughed.
"Yeah, Perry had some choice words about him. Plus, I've heard how much he likes to talk about me. The stories he likes to tell. It'd almost be hilarious if it wasn't so sad that he actually believed them."
For a second, I thought about excusing myself and leaving. I suddenly felt very sick for not telling Pat off the day before. He was obviously an idiot, and I was an idiot for even listening to anything he said.
"I'd say that you're not alone on that one," I croaked out.
"You don't have to be so nervous around me."
"What?"
"I can tell that you're uncomfortable. You don't have to be. We're just two people talking, right?"
"Yeah, you're right," I said and tried to relax a little bit. Things were running a lot smoother than they had the day before.
"Perfect. So, maybe this will start off a little easier since we know each other. Let's just work from there." He smiled at me again and this time I smiled back.
"I'm sorry if you got in trouble for what happened that day," I said as he offered me a chair.
He paused as he pulled a stool to sit across from me. "You're very polite to apologize for it. You didn't do anything wrong to show me a little kindness. Besides, if I had any hard feelings about it, then the slug would have made up for it all anyway. He's pretty cute."
I blushed and quickly blurted out something to change the subject. "You mean your father didn't show you kindness?" It was a stupid thing to ask him, but I was curious. The one experience I had had with his father hadn't been pleasant. What could he have possibly been like behind closed doors?
Fortunately, Alexander laughed. "My father was not a happy man. I know that might come as a shock, but I'm pretty sure that he scared anyone who came in contact with him. If he wasn't so good with what he did, there's no way this shop would have ever been a success." He bit his lower lip as if he wanted to say more but cut himself off.
"What do you mean by that?"
"He didn't like me talking to other people, for starters. He blamed me for a lot of things that happened in his life." Studying my face, he picked up the wood and a carving tool and began to shave away pieces on it.
"That's not very fair. If he was acting like that when I first met you … You couldn't have been that old to begin with."
More chunks of wood fell to the floor. "At that time? I would have been about ten, I think. But he hated me before that." There was a moment of silence between us before he sighed. "He blamed me for my mother's death. She died during childbirth so in his messed up world, it had to be my fault. To him, I was nothing more than the person who killed his wife. He couldn't stand me." More wood shavings fell to the floor.
"But that's not fair to you. How could that have been your fault?"
"I don't know. I really don't know."
"Alexander." He flinched when I said his name.
"Sorry, just really not used to people addressing me."
"You know that it wasn't your fault, right?"
"I do now. It took me a few years." He paused while he changed out his tools, making indents in the wood. "That wasn't my fault, but the other stuff might be."
"What other stuff?"
"There were plenty of things that I did that my father hated. He hated how I kept my hair long, how I would go days without speaking, how I would watch the neighborhood guys." I waited for him to continue, watching as he closed his eyes and took a few breaths. "Luk, I'm gay. I knew I was gay from a very early age and I was open about it with my father. One day, he asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I told him that I wanted to be a husband to another man. Well, that just set him off. He kept asking me what I was talking about and why I would say something like that. I was fourteen. I mean, at fourteen it seems perfectly plausible that I could marry another man. I'm sixteen now and it still feels like maybe one of these days I might actually marry someone if I ever manage to get out of here."
His hand trembled as he spoke and it looked as if he was struggling not to cry. Without realizing what I was doing, I leaned forward and grasped his free hand. It tightened under my gentle grip, as though he wanted to pull away, but he eventually relaxed.
"It's okay, Alexander. I mean, between you and me, I've never much fancied girls. A husband doesn't sound like such a bad thing to me." I hadn't told many people that before, but it felt good to let him in on something that was so personal to me.
He looked up and smiled at m
e. "What?"
"I'm gay, too."
"Well, that's refreshing." His expression softened again. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with Lady Chuff. Well, aside from the fact she's always cooking cabbage." That explained the smell. "But it's nice to talk to someone I have some things in common with." He winked at me and went back to his work. He had more confidence than I thought.
"Speaking of which, did you ask her to come by my house this morning for any particular reason?" I winked back at him and felt goofy for doing it. The guy who never got out of the house was more comfortable with flirting than I was.
He snorted. "I wasn't even sure if I was sending her to the right house. I described you to her and she seemed to think it was you." His hands were faster, chiseling away at the block in front of him. "Nice woodwork you did."
I blushed. "I didn't know what to do. It was the only thing that came to mind."
"Well, I think that he's pretty cute for a slug." He smiled at me and I smiled back.
"He's certainly not as cute as you," I said. It was his turn to blush.
We continued to talk for another hour, learning more about each other with each passing sentence. I learned that, much against Pat's beliefs, Alexander was actually a fairly well liked member of the community. He liked his privacy, and the more grownup citizens respected that. Lady Chuff would go to the market and drop his groceries off for him in exchange for morning tea. He was filled with similar stories—of the older people who were more than willing to help him after the death of his father. Somehow over the years, stories had started about Alexander that had no truth.
Alexander went on to tell me about the death of his father, speaking of it as if he was ordering a sandwich. His heart had simply failed him one night in his sleep. The coroner had carried him away before the morning broke, and Alexander didn't see much daylight after that. He kept to himself and he grew ever more mysterious to the children who passed his shop.
"I can't believe you started running this place at fourteen." I was in awe.
