Masks

The incessant rain bounced off his casket as they lowered him into the earth. There was hardly anyone at the funeral. Only his parents, his sisters, and I were in attendance. I wasn’t his girlfriend, or even his friend, for that matter. We were just co-workers. He was nothing more than a mere acquaintance, yet his passing hit me as though I had lost one of my own.

When the COVID-19 pandemic struck, I thought I would be out of a job. The pandemic was sending everyone home, and I assumed I would follow suit. I found out soon enough that would not be the case. Working at a grocery store meant that me and my fellow employees were essential workers. Even though people were dropping like flies and hospitals were flooded to the brim, we still had to show up to work. The reality was that people still needed their groceries, so that meant we had to put ourselves at risk for the greater good.

I was scared. I lived with my grandmother, who was a lung cancer survivor. If she got infected, the odds of her surviving would be slim. But I couldn’t afford to stop working. Rent needed to be paid, and someone had to care for my grandma. I remember that my hands would tremble whenever I was about to get out of the car to work. Anxiety would tighten its grip around my throat with each stride I took through the parking lot. By the time I entered through the doors, I couldn’t even think straight.

That was until I heard, “Good morning, sunshine!” Just like that, the fear I had felt earlier would wash away. The tension in my shoulders was released when I saw his smiling eyes. Not even a mask could hide his smile. Seeing him so at ease made me feel relaxed. Seeing him tackle the day with the same energy every day made me more determined to put in a good day’s work. It wasn’t just me who fed off his energy. Every single employee at the store would naturally gravitate to him. It was as though he were a magnet, and we were iron. His energy was almost as infectious as the pandemic itself. He never missed a beat every day, five days a week for two years. He was the same guy, day in, day out.

Then, the pandemic was over. People slowly crawled out of their caves and into the real world, and the world moved on as though nothing had happened. My hands stopped shaking when I arrived at work, and anxiety loosened its grip around my neck. Still, hearing his good mornings and seeing his happy-go-lucky attitude had the same effect on me as they had before.

However, once I saw his smile with his mask off, I could tell there was something else behind that smile. I would peep in on him alone in an aisle and notice his smile fade away. When we left work and went to our cars, I saw his shoulders slump as he got in the car. I didn’t think much of it at the time. As high energy as he was, I just figured he was feeling a little burnt out. Maybe something was happening at home, and he felt a little drained. Whatever the case was, I felt like it wasn’t my business. We were just co-workers, after all.

Several months passed, and I noticed the gloom grow more prominently behind his smile each day. All this time had passed since the pandemic, yet he was still wearing a mask. Eventually, I became worried. I knew his life wasn’t my business, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t suggest he take a vacation, right? I walked into work one day, and after he gave me his signature, “Good morning, sunshine!” I decided to talk to him. I said, “You’ve been looking a little tired lately. Maybe you should take a vacation?” He looked at me and started laughing. He replied, “Bills still need to be paid. As much as I’d like some time off, I need the work. Come on, don’t worry about me. Let’s have a wonderful day!” I responded with a smile and a nod and went about my day.

The following week, I noticed his energy was at an all-time high. It felt like he was everywhere at once. His smile was brighter, and his laughs were even louder. Like a little kid, he walked to his car after work with a pep in his step. I felt that maybe I was wrong before, and I was just seeing things. I thought whatever was going on in his life must have resolved itself.

I showed up for work on Monday, and to my surprise, there was no “Good morning, sunshine!” Maybe he was late to work? That couldn’t be it. He was on time for work every single day for nearly three years. Maybe he finally took that vacation?” Maybe he did; who knows. He didn’t show up for the rest of the week, and I figured he was enjoying himself somewhere in Mexico by the beach.

Friday rolled around, and I walked into the store to see the manager at the front. This was unusual. She was never out front. When everyone arrived, she gathered us and delivered the news with a stone-cold expression. He had committed suicide. Everyone was sad in the way one is when they hear someone else going through a tough time. They expressed some sympathy, but they were utterly detached. By the time we all left work, everyone was all smiles. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

When I stepped into my car, I immediately broke down. I couldn’t stop sobbing. Why was I crying so much over someone I hardly knew? I kept thinking, “This shouldn’t hurt me as much as it is.” Still, the tears kept pouring down my face with no explanation. Day after day, I’d get home from work and curl into a ball and cry. I knew something had to be done, so I asked the store manager if she knew when his funeral was. She was surprised to hear me ask but told me the date anyway.

After the funeral, his family invited me to their home for dinner. I tried to turn them down, but they insisted. Their home was a humble one. The house had old furniture covered in plastic wrap. The smell of incense floated in the air and was imprinted on the walls. In a way, it reminded me of my grandma’s home when I was a kid. I helped them cook their “famous” Sunday Roast as they recounted tales from his childhood and adolescence. The dinner I tried to avoid turned out to be a lovely one. The table was full of laughter and nostalgic joy. Though, I felt like I didn’t belong. As they recalled their memories of him, I, too, recollected my own memories. I remembered how I noticed his sadness yet said nothing. I remembered thinking that it was none of my business and moving along. I remember feeding off his energy for survival during the pandemic but never doing anything for him in return.

The overwhelming weight of guilt crashed on me all at once. Crumbling under the burden, I broke down at the family table. Everyone huddled around me in concern and asked me what happened. I explained to them everything. I told them how much joy he brought to work during the most challenging times. I told them how I knew he was in pain, but I did nothing to help. I begged them for forgiveness but looked up to find they weren’t mad at me. His father touched my shoulder and said, “That was our boy. He brightened everyone’s day and never asked for anything in return. That was just who he was. If he were here right now, he would tell you not to worry and to have a wonderful day.”