Hope Hurts

The mask on my face was uncomfortable and made it hard to breathe but it was crucial for my double life. As I took a deep breath the lenses fogged up. I ended up wondering why I chose to wear it as I loosened one of the filters and the fog cleared. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Are you supposed to be hiding or stalking?” A male voice asked from behind me. I froze. I recognized the voice and I hope to God he doesn’t recognize mine as I speak. Then I remembered that I had a voice modifier attached to my mask. I tightened the filter and clicked a button on my wrist. A beep in my ear told me the modifier was on.

“That depends.” I said, not turning around. My right hand inched towards the knife I had clipped to my thigh.

“On what?” The voice asked, my voice was deeper and more robotic, but still recognizable as a female voice. I’m starting to wish that I hadn’t bought the female version of the suit. It was easy to tell that I was a woman, it was so much harder to blend in with the male gender.

“There are a great many things,” I said, “You must specify.” He chuckled.

“Stand up and face me.” I heard him cock a gun. My heart sped up and my breath picked up, fogging my mask again. But I stood up, despite every warning bell that rang in my head. I turned around to face the man I thought I’d never see again.

“What’s with the old time gas mask?” He asked, pointing the gun over my heart. I shrugged.

“That depends,” I said, “What’s with the gun?” I could tell he liked this game because he smiled and reset the gun, lowering it into a holster on his hip.

“You’re funny,” He said with a chuckle, “But you didn’t answer my question.” He narrowed his eyes and dropped his smile.

“Neither did you.” I shot back. My hand inched closer to the blade on my thigh.

“I don’t plan on it,” He said, “Unless you answer my question first.” I rolled my eyes, knowing that he couldn’t see through the tinted lenses of my mask.

“Why do you want to know about the mask,” I asked, “Answer this question and I’ll answer any of yours without asking anymore.” I knew I couldn’t keep that promise, but if it got him to speak then it didn’t matter.

“Alright,” He said, smiling again, “With a body like yours I’m pretty certain your face matches. The mask seems unnecessary unless you plan on blowing something up.” My eyes flicked to his wrist. He wasn’t wearing the bracelet, he was here by coincidence.

“So what’s with the mask?” He pressed.

“I like to keep my identity secret.” I said, messing with the latch on the holster for my knife. I wasn’t going to pull it out unless it was necessary, and right now I didn’t need to. But either way I unbuttoned the safety, all while his eyes were focused on the mask that covered my features that I knew he’d recognize.

“Why?” He asked, stepping closer. I couldn’t move backwards, I’d fall off the building if I did. And I hated that he knew that. I was basically being backed into a corner, and I hated when men like him did that to me.

“Because it’s harder for people to make enemies with a faceless girl than one with a face,” I said, “It’s easier for people like me to not be recognized when they don’t wear it. I like discretion. I like being a secret.” I said, like I had said so many years ago to the same person on a night like this on a different rooftop.

“I bet you I’d recognize you without your mask.” He said, his eyes raking over my figure again. I cringed mentally and prayed that he wasn’t going to do anything to me. My right hand closed around the handle on my blade.

“I doubt it.” I said, narrowing my eyes although he couldn’t see.

“You sure about that,” He asked, stepping closer. “I never forget a face.” He was close enough that if I were to move at all our chests would touch, but I wouldn’t, couldn’t, risk getting that close to him again. Physically or otherwise. I’d made that mistake before and wasn’t about to make it again.

“Neither do I.” I said.

“Is that so,” He stepped closer again, “Because I’m certain that when we meet again you won’t recognize me at all.”

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I said, and stepped backwards off the roof. I landed on the awning above the bank and rolled off quickly to get beneath it.

When I looked back up at the top of the building there was a box perched precariously on the edge and he was gone. It fell suddenly and I hurried to catch it.

Once I had it in my hands I could see the tiny details, and a button. I pressed it and the top popped open with a hiss. I tentatively opened it fully and reached inside. My gloved fingers came up holding a piece of parchment with only three words written on it with hasty handwriting.

Hello old friend

I was shocked. How had he recognized me? There was something else in the box too. I pulled out the bracelet that matched mine. I pressed the button on it and mine lit up, as well as his. He knew.

I was shocked. He knew who I was. But he still played as if he didn’t. He gave himself away, maybe not knowing if I was the same girl from his past. Or knowing full well the effect the minimalist bracelet would have on me and wanting me to feel how I had so long ago.

I clenched the bracelet in my fist and swore that I wouldn’t keep it. I’d give it back to him when I saw him again. I wouldn’t forget his promise that we would see each other again. The bracelet dug into my palm as I held it tighter. 

How could he do this? Why not come right out and tell me? Don’t I deserve an explanation? I suddenly wanted to hit a wall. I was on my feet in an instant, my feet connecting with the wall around the door to the roof.

Tears stung my eyes as my knuckles split and blood ran down my hands. After I had worn myself out I slumped against the wall and cried. I thought the same words to myself over and over. How could he do this to me? I couldn’t not think the words. 

How had he recognized me? Did he really never forget a face? Or a body like mine? But I’d changed since the last time I’d seen him. He looked different. Then how come I’d recognized him so easily?

I sighed and stood up, weary of all my inner turmoil. It needed to stop. I needed to escape. So I went to the only place I knew. I made my way back home to put on a different mask, one the riches of the city knew well. It’s the mask that helped me afford everything I had.

I slipped on a dark red party dress that went down to my knees and had the thinnest straps. It was the same color as my suit, but no one could connect the dots. It was also my favorite color, so I didn’t mind.

The Ivy House was bustling with life when I got there well after midnight. All of the windows on the first and second stories were alight with a pale yellow light that shone through the thin curtains and cast ghostly shadows on the front lawn.

I stepped up the stairs in front and opened the door, adopting an air that made me belong here, an air that made these people believe I belonged. I used a different name to introduce myself to everyone so my former identity was long forgotten. His bracelet was clipped around my wrist next to my own, in case I ran into him.

After I’d had a few glasses of champagne I stood waiting next to the dance floor waiting for someone to talk to me, to make me forget. When a hand settled on my waist I spun to look him in the eye. And then I recognized him.

“You’re quite the looker aren’t you,” I said, “I saw you across the room earlier.” I said, taking his hand off of my waist.

“You’re something to look at,” He said. I recognized his voice, but from where I don’t know. “I’m hoping you’ll forgive me with a dance.” He smiled and motioned towards the busy dance floor with couples swaying to a slow song.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to sit this one out,” I said, “I don’t slow dance.” Not anymore. Not since him. I didn’t say it aloud, no matter how much I wanted to.

“I could change that.” He said, and offered up his hand. I’ve heard another say that to me before, but I had enough alcohol in my system that I can’t remember who.

“Sure.” I said, but took his hand anyway.

We spun through three slow songs and I remembered why I loved to slow dance. I remembered what it felt like all those years ago when I was loved. When I twirled with someone special from rooftop to rooftop. I remember pulling off heists together, setting the city aflame.

And then a face came back to me, it seemed the alcohol had run out of steam. I stopped in the middle of the dance floor and stood an arms length away from the man who’d asked me to dance. He looked at me like I was crazy.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said, “What is your name sir?” It took him a minute to respond.

“Alastor,” He said, “Could I ask the same of you? What do they call you?”

“Bronwen.” I said using my real name this time. His eyes flashed.

“Everyone here seems to call you Lucy,” He said, “Why?”

“They’ve adopted it as a nickname and it caught on,” I lied, “They call me Lucy because one of the older ladies said it means ‘light, born at dawn’ or something like that.” I said, waving my hand dismissively. I introduced myself as Lucy because it was gentler than my given name. Bronwen means “dark and beautiful” if you look it up. My parents - who were the crime leaders of the city - chose it because they knew I would be just that.

“I don’t hear many people talking about you,” I said, “Are you new?” He laughed and pulled me closer, moving into another slow dance. What is it with rich people and slow dances? I thought to myself.

“No, I’ve been here a while,” Alastor said, “I’m just not good at making sober friends. Everyone forgets me by day break.” I laughed.

“No I’m serious,” He said, leading me off the dance floor. “You see that man over there, in the corner?”

“Um, the one with the obnoxious hat?” It looked like Abraham Lincoln’s.

“Yes, him,” Alastor said, “I introduced myself to him the first night I was here. I didn’t know he was drunk and when I went up to him the next day, I was a complete stranger to him.” I laughed, knowing that my memory didn’t falter.

I knew exactly who Alastor was. It was his real name. He was the man from the roof. The one who tormented me endlessly and loved me so long ago.

“Alastor.” I said, my laugh fading.

“Yes Bronwen?” He asked, sitting down at an empty table. I sat across from him and pulled off the bracelet he left on the roof earlier.

“This is yours,” I said, “And I know that.” I set the bracelet on the table. I remember when I gave it to him. I remember the pain that flashed across his face. And I remember how he hurt me not long after.

“It’s yours,” He said, “I don’t want to be reminded of what we had.” He said, throwing away his charade.

“Why did you keep it,” I asked, “Answer this question and I’ll answer any of yours. I won’t ask anymore.” I watched as he picked up the bracelet and stared at it. I watched as he traced his thumb over the top. I watched as it lit up. I watched as mine did the same.

“Because I never meant to love you,” He said, “And after what I did I never meant to keep loving you. You were supposed to disappear. But this,” He held up the bracelet, “This is a constant reminder of why I did what I did. This is a constant reminder that you loved me when I didn’t deserve it.

“This is a reminder that I betrayed the only person who believed in me. The only person who actually cared. I was tempted to burn it a few times. But I could never bring myself to do it because every now and again, it would light up. And I knew it was never an accident. They don’t do that. I knew you still thought of me. So when it flashed today, and I saw a flash of light up on the roof of the bank, I knew it was you.” He looked at me with a burning intensity in his eyes and I was afraid.

“Why did you keep yours?” He asked, setting the bracelet down in front of me, inches away from my hands.

I couldn’t answer his question. I knew why I kept it, but I couldn’t tell him. But I did anyway. “I had hope,” I said, “I hoped you would come back. It hurt me to think about you. It hurts to see your pictures in the paper with all of your accomplishments. It hurt when I went on heists meant for two. But I hoped. I hoped you would come back and love me the way you did before. It was stupid and I know that now, but even if you left me now I’d keep it.” I said, looking down at the table, my reflection staring back at me from a glazed plate.

“Hope leads to heartbreak,” Alastor said, “I’m sorry.” He put the bracelet in his pocket, and from that same pocket, he pulled a slip of paper and set it on the table in front of me. And then he left, and I had a feeling I’d never see him again.

When I unfolded the paper, his handwriting was neater and his words jumped off the page at me. He had predicted this conversation.

Little does she know…

…he thinks about her too

I crumpled the piece of paper in my hands and threw it in the nearest trash can. I'd gotten the bracelet back to him. I didn't need to do anything else.

"You can trust me Bronwen," He said lightly kissing my forehead. I leaned into his touch. "I won't hurt you." His hand brushed my hair from my face and left, jumping from building to building.

"I hope so." I said into the frosty air. And that was the last time I saw him. The last time I would ever trust another man. I won't.

I left the Ivory House and didn't come back to this town. I left without a trace.