Redeemer Central | The Collective | Single Entry

Perfect balance

Emma Keenan

15/02/10

Mr Gibbs was tired of wearing his mask. It was a funny old thing. Some days, depending on who he was with, and what he was doing, his mask seemed quite comfortable. Almost snug, like an extension of his face, a natural part of him. Other times, it just seemed to flap around in front of his face, always blocking his view and getting in the way. It was irritating. Mr Gibbs didn’t really understand why it suited him to wear some days and not others. It’s not like he had the option of taking it off on the days when it decided not to play nice. The mask was part of him, whether it chose to play game or not. And anyway, it had been so long since Mr Gibbs had been seen in public, or even in private, without his mask that to remove it would just be foolish. No one would recognise him! After so many years underneath the mask, Mr Gibbs couldn’t quite be certain what his natural face looked like, so he could hardly expect anyone else to know. Taking it off would mean starting all over again, and that would never do.

But Mr Gibbs couldn’t quite understand what had been going on lately. He kept feeling an irrational urge to take his mask off. And it was happening in the strangest of places. The first few times, it was when he was at home by himself, trying to relax after another busy day at the office. At least then, he was on his own – he was able to deal with the situation quite calmly and rationally. But then it happened one day in the supermarket, when he was buying some drinks for a friend’s party later that evening. There was nothing out of the ordinary – he’d been to parties at this person’s home many times before. Truthfully, he didn’t really like the person all that much – Mr Gibbs thought he was a little full of himself – but he was a useful person to keep in with. There was no reason for Mr Gibbs to feel stressed or anxious about the party. But suddenly, in the middle of the supermarket, he had this urge to rip off his mask. He had all kinds of crazy thoughts. He thought about showing up at the party without his mask – his pale face exposed – and somehow, it gave him a perverse kind of pleasure to think of all those people he didn’t really like that much, staring in horror at his nakedness. Then he started thinking that maybe he didn’t want to go to the party after all, and that maybe he should just stay at home and see if he could figure out what the problem was with his mask. But Mr Gibbs was never one to pass up on a party with useful connections. A stiff drink soon dealt with the problem in his head. Mr Gibbs polished his mask nice and shiny, and went and endured the party with a smile, as he always did.

Mr Gibbs woke up earlier than usual the morning after the party, with a slight headache. He wasn’t usually one for over-indulging, but it was tricky sometimes, at parties like that. One doesn’t like to stand out too much. Mr Gibbs had learned over the years how to walk a very fine line between attracting too much attention and fading into the background. When he started out, his mask had been quite plain. Not many people noticed him. Part of him liked it that way, but Mr Gibbs soon learned that to get anywhere in this world, people needed to be noticed. He started to polish his mask. He tweaked it here and there so it would get more attention, made it a little flamboyant . At the start, it wasn’t very comfortable – the adjustments didn’t fit well with his face. But Mr Gibbs knew the value of sacrifice, and willingly put up with the discomfort. His perseverance was well rewarded. The people around him began to compliment his mask. Most of them had masks that were similar to his, and Mr Gibbs started to feel right at home. A couple of times, he went a little far, and he heard rumours that people thought he was letting it all go to his head, but he’d learned to catch himself when that happened, and to keep a nice even balance. Mr Gibbs had managed to get his mask pretty close to perfect.

Mr Gibbs made some coffee, and waited for a while to see if his headache would go away. His mask wasn’t helping – it seemed to be pressing down on his temples, and felt more uncomfortable than ever. He thought about taking it off to have a look at it. Maybe it just needed some readjusting. It was a funny thing – he’d always been quite proud of his mask. He’d worked hard at getting it just right. But for some reason, this morning, he felt ashamed of it. He didn’t understand. Maybe a little bit of shame would be ok, as long as he didn’t publicise it too broadly. It might add to his mask – give him an air of enigma. It would add a little bit of difference, distinguish him from the other masks. He’d noticed that at the party last night – everyone’s masks seemed to be the same, nothing was distinctive. Mr Gibbs started to perk up a little. A little bit of difference could be exactly what he needed – it could add to his appeal, make him interesting, attractive even. But not too much difference. He would have to keep it in check, maintain a healthy balance. Don’t be too different, he thought, or people might think he was a freak. They might start to ask too many questions – start to analyse him. Mr Gibbs wasn’t too keen on that idea. Too much difference, and people might start to notice some of the marks on his mask that he’d prefer to keep hidden. Too much difference, and his mask might just start to erode. Then where would he be? Standing in front of the world, naked and exposed.

Mr Gibbs had a moment of realisation. It was all a game. Play the game well, and the world will reward you. He’d played well until now. These moments that kept happening, when his mask became uncomfortable – they were starting to mess with his game plan. They couldn’t continue. Mr Gibbs made a decision. He had to find a new balance. He had to learn how to embrace his shame, and let it become a defining feature of his mask. The prospect excited him. His shame would make him interesting, and a little bit quirky. Mr Gibbs had always liked that word – ‘quirky’. He knew some people – not many, but a couple – who had thrown their masks away a long time ago. Most people thought they were foolish for doing so, but Mr Gibbs had always thought that without the masks, they were ‘quirky’. In a strange way, something about that quality appealed to him. But he’d found his solution. A little bit of quirkiness, and people will label you an ‘individual’ – and in Mr Gibbs’ book, individualism would make him attractive, enigmatic, appealing. He wanted that. But Mr Gibbs knew that if he strayed too much from the common path, people might consider him a rebel and a troublemaker. He didn’t want that. Mr Gibbs didn’t want to go upsetting the apple cart. He wasn’t about to challenge the status quo – it was there for a reason. Mr Gibbs didn’t care that they lived off the riches of the land, and built their success on the backs of the poor. That’s just the way things worked. The status quo kept order, and Mr Gibbs loved order. The status quo had always given him something to aspire to – that’s why he kept his mask so well polished. It’s what everyone wants, he thought – comfort, respect, indifference.

Mr Gibbs finished his coffee, and got ready to go out. He stood in front of the mirror and gave his mask a final polish. He liked this new look – this finely struck balance of confidence and shame. He felt it suited him. He didn’t notice the tarnished, rusty edges. His quirky friends probably would, and it would make them sad. But Mr Gibbs wasn’t out to impress them – he knew there was no point. Mr Gibbs was happy. He was looking forward to seeing the admiration in the faces of his fellow mask-wearers as they spotted this new streak of carefully honed individualism. Mr Gibbs had struck the perfect balance. He walked out the door with a fresh spring in his step, not noticing the flecks of rust that fell from the edges of his mask onto the carpet. Mr Gibbs thought that his mask had never fitted better.

Tags: Identity