The Layers of His Mask

8. He Who Tends To Over-Analyze

"Oh, come on, Rebecca! Your brother’s in the hospital bed for crying out loud! Do you seriously not have your hormones under control? You are better than this. Get a grip, now’s not the time for fantasies." I saunter confidently out of the bathroom and bump straight into Alex’s hard chest.

Dear God, why must you torture me like this? What have I done to deserve this fate? Is he my karma for some evil deed I have done wrong in the past?

"Sorry," I mutter, lowering my head.

"No need to apologize. I was just coming to check up on you, you were in there for about thirty minutes." Was I really in there that long? Wow, I hadn't realized that much time had passed. "What were you doing? Taking a s**t?" He chuckles.

I scrunch up my face in disgust. "Does your mouth have no filter?"

"It does when I want it to. Although, sometimes I think my mouth has a mind of its own." He wiggles his brows.

His complete lack of decency to even acknowledge his audacity riles me up. I wave my hand behind me as I move past him, muttering, “bye,” and head straight for the front entrance of IHOP.

Once outside, I feel like I can breathe for the first time, like the air is drowning out the smell of Alex that has consumed me for the past couple of hours, mugging my mind - unfortunately so - and the fresh air clears my mind to think rationally. Finally. I close my eyes and just take it in. I realize my car is still at home and Alex drove me here from the hospital, so I have no choice but to ask him to drop me back at the hospital. I don't want him knowing my address, and besides it’s quite a distance from here. I know I have to suck up my pride and ask him, but I’m not ready to face him just yet for various reasons - anger being just one of them. I spot a bench off to the left and seat myself on it. Shortly after, Alex comes bursting outside the door.

"Sir, you have to pay before you leave!" I hear a gentleman yell from inside.

"Give me five f*****g minutes, alright?" He swiftly closes the door behind him. He doesn't see me at first, but when he looks around, he spots me. He walks to me, rolls his eyes, and takes a seat. "Are you mad?"

I release a short, breathy laugh. "No, I'm not mad, I'm just a little frustrated right now."

"Frustrated?" The look on his face right now is priceless, he almost looks like a lost child. If he didn't have the beard I would say that it's very possible that he was turning back the clocks of time. “Why?”

"I don’t want to explain it," I whine. My brain is a mess right now - what with my guilt over my brother’s current state and that small part of me that was fighting for sanity whilst still giving into hormonal attractions - at a rather improper timing might I add - and being with Alex is not helping it in any way. I would rather not divulge him this information, it will only inflate his already overly large ego. He looks to me, determined and expecting an answer.

"Jesus, why me?" I look up to the heavens and know that there has to be some sort of cruel joke being played on me. I feel heat rush to my cheeks and neck and I immediately want to die. "I can't," I mumble into my hands.

"Why not exactly?"

Because it’s embarrassing and I feel ashamed and guilty of the fact that I am still fantasizing instead of grieving. Oh, and also because you are an egotistical jerk.

I stand and he follows me saying, "You're not going to outrun me. You may have done it in the grocery store that day, but I guarantee you it won't happen again."

"Then stop insisting I answer you!”

"Nope!"

"Ugghh!" I start walking away though I’m well aware that he has to drive me back. I hardly take a few steps from the bench and I’m tugged by my wrist a little too hard, for I end up banging against his chest and the suddenness and the force of it knocks Alex off his feet and he hits the bench with his back and I land of top of him.

"f**k!" he groans, shifting from side to side.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry!" My brows pull together as horror etches across my face. I want to touch him to see if he's okay, but I don't exactly know where to place my hands.

"You...owe me...a back massage," He states between grunts. "And no, massage envy will not pass for one."

I shake my head. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Oh and this position we are in is better?" I look down between us and sure enough he's right, I'm straddling his lap. "Then again...I like a woman on top." In the faint light I can see him smiling weakly.

I’m stumped on what to say. Standing, I manage to put a small amount of distance between us. My cheeks flush a crimson red and I couldn't feel anymore embarrassed. He stands there staring at me for a moment or so and I blush even more. He suddenly storms back to the restaurant as if something came over him, with me gawking at his sudden change in persona. When he walks back towards me, gone is the earlier playfulness and any traces of snide remarks, his face is now a blank mask. I wonder what happened to change him in a second? Was it because of the uncompromising position we were in moments ago?

“I’m sorry, I just settled the bill,” he states curtly and motions with his hand, “Shall we?”

Is he for real?!

One moment he was alright, and the next -

“Is everything okay?”

He stiffens ever so slightly at my question and replies, “Of course. Let’s get going, then…?”

Although it feels more like a statement than a question. I follow him to his car with a nod, thinking that things are better this way between us. Though, a part of me misses his fun self even when I have no reason or right to. Once we leave the parking lot and enter the road, he asks me with his eyes unwavering from the road, “Where’s your house?”

“Just drop me at the hospital.” My tone sounds equally indifferent matching his own.

He notices the change and his eyes start to move towards me, but he corrects himself and stares hard at the road ahead before he could even look at me.

“Okay.” No questions asked. No hints of worry. Nothing.

We arrive at the hospital and just before I get out, he asks me, “Why here, if you don’t mind me asking, visiting hours are over...”

So we’re formal now. I guess it’s Chef Brooks now. No more Alex.

“I'm going to spend the night with my brother.”

He just nods.

I get out and before shutting the door I lean in and say, “I don’t think I'll be able to make it on Monday to work, my brother needs me. Is that okay, Chef Brooks?” He looks at me and for a second - for a split second - his eyes lose the walls and I can peek at a hint of an emotion. Hurt?

No. You’re just trying to see what you want to see. You calling him ‘Chef Brooks’ or ‘Alex’ is no different to him.

Before I can continue my inner rambling, he nods with a smile though I can see his guard's up.

“Yeah, sure. As long as it takes. I understand.”

He smiles again and this time, there’s genuineness in it. In that second, I realize something and I know I have to tell him at this moment, when he is not being completely walled off, or I will never get to tell him without risking him cutting me off or misunderstanding. He’d already closed the door and was starting to leave. I knock on the passenger-side window before he can pull off and he turns almost immediately and lowers the window, leaning over. I cut in before he can get a word out.

“Thank you," I say rather breathlessly, “It was a weird night and maybe things didn't go well for you, but you helped me. Helped me take my mind off my guilt and grief, even for a little while, perhaps even unintentionally. I know I’d be a wreck and I couldn't have handled relaying the news to my parents or even just passed the night with my sanity intact, if it were not for you. I still don’t know why you were here in the first place, and now I feel like a horrible person for not asking you, but I really am thankful that you happened to be here. I truly am. Thank you, Alex Brooks. I mean it with all my heart.”

He looks at me with rapt attention and such intensity all the while, while I was saying it. His gaze holds mine and then something unimaginable happens. His guard drops altogether and he opens his mouth to say something. But, he settles for a smile, a rather somber one and nods once before uttering an almost silent ‘Take care’ and he speeds off. I just stand there, staring into space while thinking about the events of the night and I come to a conclusion that I meant every word that I said to him. If it weren't for him, I never would have left the hospital, let alone eaten and I would have almost wrecked myself out of guilt. He had been there for me, at one of my worst times and deliberately or not, he had distracted me, diverting topics and making jokes. He had made it better for me. I have no words to tell just how grateful I am...yet, there was one part of me that couldn't help but wonder what he had been about to say, or rather what had stopped him from saying whatever it was…

...What is he hiding behind his mask? Why the mask at all?

***

Alex’s POV

Shit. s**t. s**t!

I try hard to concentrate on the task at hand - and that is to drive not in circles and with focus on the road, not elsewhere. It takes everything in me to just keep at it and not let my mind wander off and take me somewhere else. Or rather, to someone else. Someone named Rebecca.

Fuck!

I swerve the car at the last moment. I was so close to running into the truck ahead of me. Just thinking of her name can make me lose my train of thought. What’s happening to you? What is she doing to you? Frankly, nothing. She didn't do a thing. Not a damn thing at all. She just came to work and did what was expected of her. Nothing more. I on the other hand, have no clue what’s affecting me so much that I go out of my way to be an asshole, provoke her and avoid her the next second. I am acting like a bipolar i***t!

In all honesty, I am the one giving her a hard time and messing with her, though I will never accept it out loud. Even now, I was the one making inappropriate remarks and innuendos despite the fact that I have no f*****g clue why! I've never, never, behaved so strangely with anyone else, at least not with anyone I don't know very well.

Damn her!

I turn my car sharply around the corner without giving much thought to the rear-mirrors or anyone else on the road, for that matter and I realize only too quickly my mistake and swerve again, trying not to hit or get hit. I manage not to do any damage and find myself so…unlike myself.

Get a grip, Alex Brooks!

I exhale deeply and again, my mind goes back to when I saw her today in the hospital. I was just on my way out, when I saw her - or, rather, a disheveled distraught figure of a woman with her face in her hands. Yet, that did nothing to hinder my recognizing her. I don’t know what came over me but the moment her blood-shot red eyes met mine, something snapped in me. All I could think about was to comfort her. Yes, that has to be the reason for my actions. That’s what everyone does right? Comfort and console those in need. Yep, that was definitely my fuel for what I did.

Really? How does that explain your jealousy when the doctor touched her?

The nagging voice in my head does little to help my already out of control mood. Though, the thought of the doctor is enough to drive my frustration overboard. Why? I have no idea. It is definitely not jealousy. Nope. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel trying to reason my actions to myself and cut that little voice in my head.

It was a mere sense of protection. Yeah, ‘unreasonable’ sense of protection. Definitely not jealousy. Anyway, however, comforting someone ends at the scene of misfortune. Especially, when that someone happens to be one you don’t care about. Where am I going with this? You care about Rebecca. So much so to bring her out to dinner, make jokes and inappropriate suggestions. You definitely weren't thinking about comforting her then?

In my shock and anger, I almost hit a car when I run a red-light without paying much attention to my surroundings. My focus is completely on the inner turmoil - no, battle that is happening in my mind. I feel...rage. Though at whom or what, I have no clue. There is a small, really small part of me that’s quite sure it’s directed towards me. I’m racing now and I am definitely no where near my apartment and I’m sure I have no destination in mind right now. All my mind has space for is the clashing thoughts about my motives today. I don’t have to justify myself to myself. Yet, I feel like I have to. Bringing her to dinner was definitely out of concern that she wouldn't have eaten otherwise. Her guilt - however idiotic it was - and her misery would not have let her. How she twisted it into her fault, I can never fathom. Anyway, the jokes were meant to lighten her mood. Surely no one would want to let someone wallow in own their grief? So, yes. Definitely basic sense of humanity there. Just that. Even then, I can still feel a sense of unsettlement inside. I don’t feel relief, nor justified. Instead, I feel like I am...holding back.

Why?

Stop denying it.

I’m. Not.

You’re not pondering on the events post-dinner. That’s when your ‘comforting’ phase changed into - well, something you’re denying.

I hold my breath and my knuckles turn painfully white on the steering wheel. I push myself into replaying the episode after dinner. Truth be told, when she excused herself after I made the comment, I felt like an asshole. A complete f*****g asshole. I took it upon myself to go and check up on her. When I bumped into her she didn't look the slightest bit disturbed until I made another comment about her taking a s**t. She just looked so damn frazzled that I had to think of something idiotic to say. That only ended up with her running away from me again, and me running after her, again. When I discovered her outside perched on a bench in the shadows that were not covered by the safety of light, something clenched in me. When she told me she was frustrated, something in her demeanor told me it wasn't because of anger. Something in me, hoped it wasn't. For whatever reason, I had to get it out of her, get her to say it. ‘It’ being what - I only wish I knew. Five minutes of nagging her and she still wouldn't answer me but I was hell bent on knowing, as if her answer would give me a clarity on what I was hoping she would tell or why I was hoping for that particular something at all. I was so overcome by this urge that I tugged on her wrist so hard and the next thing I knew, she was straddling my lap. I couldn't say that it was my least favorite position, she hadn't realized the position we were in. And when she climbed off my lap, I immediately missed the contact which is something I never thought I'd ever think before. Her blush deepened when I continued staring at her, trying to decipher why the hell I was thinking such thoughts. That was when the whole intensity and enormity of what I was doing struck me hard. That was when the one thought, that was still daring my brain, had erupted in me - What is she doing to me?

She was letting herself in. In past all those walls I had built. In without my knowing so, chipping away at layers of my mask. She was breaking my guard, and hell neither of us knew she was. I couldn't allow it. Too risky. That was why I realized I had to distance myself from this woman. The consequences…I can’t afford. I all but ran away from her, and I was thankful I had the bill to settle. Thankful for an excuse to get away from her while not being rude to her. When I was back outside, her mood had changed and I could see she noticed my change. The moment she voiced it, I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable that she did. A part of me - just a part - didn't want her to feel distanced from me. That was exactly why I had to. Have to.

The car ride to the hospital was an eerily silent one, but it was a welcomed silence for me. When she refused to let me take her home with as much indifference in her voice as mine, I had to remind myself it was for the best that we maintain this formal relationship. Anything more would be detrimental. Her father would literally kill me if I even tried. Yet, that part of me, wanted to take that chance. I understand that you can only distract someone from a problem for so long until it they catch on to your antics. That distraction technique has never worked in my favor seeing as I immediately catch onto it.

Once we reached the hospital, she informed me that she wouldn't be able to make it to work the next day. Her statement was understandable. She's a lot better than me. When Laura tried to get me to take a couple days off when my father was admitted into the hospital I denied her offer. Cooking was my distraction from all the obvious problems that are going on in my life. It's the only time I can truly relax and clear my mind because I'm not focused on my father being in the hospital and the reason behind it, I'm focused on the food - the task at hand.

The moment she addressed me as ‘Chef Brooks’, the playfulness gone as she caught onto my evasiveness, an emotion I didn't think would come back to me, something I had been sure I had guarded myself from now, surprised me by hitting me with such impact and such intensity that I shocked myself into letting it slip up for a second. Hurt. I felt hurt that she was distancing herself from me, too. I knew I was the one who made it happen. I asked for it. It was the right thing to do. That set my mind straight and I smiled at her, letting her know I acknowledged her request. I was hyper as I couldn't wait to leave. Just as I was about to pull off, she knocked on the window and I didn't know I had actually been wanting for her to do something, anything to look at her again, I don’t know what I had been wanting, but I was more than happy when she stopped me from leaving. The next words that came out of her mouth have been on repeat in head like a broken record player since she left.

“Thank you," she said breathlessly, “It was a weird night and maybe things didn't go well for you, but you helped me. Helped me take my mind off my guilt and grief, even for a little while, perhaps even unintentionally. I know I’d be a wreck and I couldn't have handled relaying the news to my parents or even just passed the night with my sanity intact, if it were not for you. I still don’t know why you were here in the first place, and now I feel like a horrible person for not asking you, but I really am thankful that you happened to be here. I truly am. Thank you, Alex Brooks. I mean it with all my heart.”

Those exact words are the very reason I am sitting on this dock at this point in time, over analyzing every detail of this night. It was a very interesting night, confusing. I got to see a side of her that I rarely do, and I’m glad I was at that hospital to be there for her when she needed someone the most. If I could alter anything about this night it would be me acting like a total d**k, but other than that, nothing. Despite the fact that my feelings are haywire and I don’t know what the f**k is going on with me, I am still thankful, even happy, that tonight happened.

So you finally accept that there are feelings involved?

. . . Yes.

I exhale deeply. But I’m never gonna lose control again. I just can’t.