The Masks We Wear

We prepped the same and had the same study habits, but thankfully our stumbling blocks were different. She helped me when I needed it and I returned the favor; always. I didn't know if she had a car, I didn't know if she liked the Cubbies or the Sox and I didn't know if she had siblings. I did know her favorite snacks, when she started to get those migraines and how oblivious she was when some guy was into her.

The library had a private room available and I reserved it, avoiding glances from people I thought were staring at me. It was awkward, but I didn't really mind anymore. It felt like Casey was a real person now and not just some abstract annoyance, and that helped. Let them stare. It'll be over as soon as something else happens on campus that grabs people's attention.

Madison met me at the reference desk, and we made our way to the room. When we sat down, opened our laptops and began to dig in, she paused, upturned her bookbag and a pile of candy came pouring out. She gave a shy half smile and pushed over about half, including the three Almond Joys, keeping the peanut butter cups to herself.

"How do you eat that coconut stuff? S'gross."

I laughed. There had to be at least 20 candy bars there. Madison couldn't seem to be less interested in fashion or the latest trends, but I've never seen her worry about money. She wasn't obnoxious about it, but if I was being honest, she paid for food and drinks more often than I did when we were working on projects or studying.

I tore open the wrapping with my teeth and took a bite. "S'delicious!" I replied, gently mocking her s'gross.

We got to work. After a few hours I was glad for the sugar rush. She had an off-campus apartment and headed her way while I looked forward to grilled cheese and went back to the dorm. I hadn't felt a buzzing, but I checked my phone anyway. No new texts.

HER

The battle between hoping he'd text back and hoping he wouldn't was exhausting.

Being the kind of person who now had a burner phone and was leading a clandestine double life was also exhausting. The spies in the novels I read never talked about how tiring that aspect of espionage is.

The novels also don't talk about the unsettling sense of not knowing who you are anymore or about how the person you're pretending to be starts to bleed into your actual self.

Freud said that human personality was basically determined by childhood experiences. His theory was that there were five stages of development and any sort of trauma during those stages would determine what kind of person you would be as an adult. I didn't know if I really believed his theories, nor did I really want to agree with someone who thought the entirety of human existence revolved around sexual experiences and believed every man wanted to sleep with his mother, but there's no denying that childhood experiences shape a lot about a person.

I couldn't really determine which stage held the most trauma for me, nor could I really pinpoint which trauma turned me into the messed-up person that I was. There were a lot of them, spread across each of the stages, and I didn't know which had led me to think it was a good idea to create an entirely new person just to be friends with him.

It did get me thinking, though. If my personality was determined by childhood trauma, how was Casey's personality determined? What made her so witty and fun and confident? How was I capable of creating someone who was so different than me?

She was almost like a personification of my thoughts, as if some force had collected up all the things in my mind that I kept hidden and turned them into a person. Well, the approximation of a person. She wasn't corporeal, but she did exist, to an extent. She was real to me.

And she was real to him.

Maybe it would have been kinder to just stop texting him, just let Casey ghost him and break his heart so he could move on and find an actual woman who existed outside of the digital realm. I just couldn't bring myself to hurt him like that.

So instead, I thought maybe the strange little friendship they had could run its course. I'd give it a few days, then let things naturally slow down until they stopped, and he could move on without getting hurt. I'd let him lead, only responding to his texts, never instigating a conversation myself.

I went the whole day without texting him before breaking and sending a message when I got home.

It was just a quick text, something trivial and unimportant, but he responded right away. I made some joke back, smiling and waiting eagerly for him to respond as I lay on my bed, ignoring all the studying I had to do.

When he started asking me about myself, I stopped smiling.

It wasn't like the first time we texted for hours, when we argued playfully about music and I'd had to justify why trap was the perfect soundtrack for studying. I doubted that his intention was to make me uncomfortable with his questions. Frankly, they were standard for people who were getting to know each other. Where was I from? What did my parents do? Did I have any siblings?

Questions that I had an answer for, but she didn't.

He seemed to sense my unease, even just through texts. Which meant that I could sense his unease, and I started to panic. If he wasn't comfortable talking to me, it was over... and while that's what I wanted, I also... I just wasn't ready for it to be over.

So, I opened the box.

He didn't know those things about me in real life, since I never talked about any of this with anyone. I still tried to keep things as vague as I could on the off chance that I slipped up one day, but I still... I told him things I had never told anyone.

I told him about my dad. The former college athlete, the muscle-headed bully that took what he wanted with brawn rather than brains. Nothing specific or particularly telling, just about how... well, messed up he was. And how messed up that made me feel. I told him about how hard it was to trust anyone because of it, and how hard I found it to open up to people.

I tried to explain why the incident in the library had made me so mad, and why I'd had to say something, why I had to try to make sure that people like Frank didn't go through life unchallenged. If they did, there would be another girl like me, years in the future, hurting and hiding and lost. I spilled everything I could to him, hoping he would understand... but also hoping he didn't.

I mean, it could have been the perfect excuse for him to stop texting me. Share a whole bunch of emotional baggage, admit a bunch of things that could scare him off, and maybe he'd bow out. I almost expected him to, honestly.

I apparently underestimated how much he liked me.

Well, not me. Her.

That was when I really, truly realized how much of a mess I had created, and that I had no idea how I was going to get out of it.

HIM

"We haven't even met in person. You need to give it a rest."

"Yeah, but when you do, you'll introduce me, right?"

No, Tim. I wasn't going to fucking introduce you. I was starting to think of Casey in the mindset of 'my'. I wasn't going to introduce him to my Casey. I wasn't going to introduce him to my friend, to my... whatever we were. I knew where his head was at and it was low-level irritating.

"Of course. First thing." Fuck that noise.

Feeling guilty about mooching off him, I used the gift certificate Mom sent me and ordered us a pizza. They were gigantic in Chicago and one pie will fill us up and be enough for having more later, which is pretty impressive for two college guys who eat like ravaging locusts. Lou Malnatti's was sort of a cliché for Chicago natives, but for two students who weren't born in the Windy City, it was a rare treat.

Tim tipped the delivery guy and we grabbed paper towels, Mt. Dew and paper plates. Sitting down, my phone buzzed. My heart beat just a little faster and as much as I loved her, I hoped it wasn't my sister again. Pulling it out, I saw that it was a text from Casey.

I turned to Tim. "Start eating, I'll be right back."

"Sure. See you in an hour or two. Tell her I said hi. You're gone too long, I'm starting on your slices."

He could've eaten the whole thing for all I cared. Okay, that's not true. But more than his share would have been fine. Sitting on my bed, I replied to her text and we were off again. Things were smooth, easy and... I don't know. What's the right word? Good? No, too mild. Whatever. We were fitting. Maybe that's better. There was no stress trying to figure out what to say next or how to best phrase it. My thumbs just flew, and everything was comfortable.

Until I fucked up.

What was smooth as glass became slow, halting and awkward. I ground our conversation to a halt because I couldn't be happy with enough. I had to go and ask her about her family, like an idiot. Why the hell couldn't I be happy with what she was offering? I'm such a dolt.

Casey was hesitant, there were now delays between her responses and our conversation almost died. She repeated herself a few times and I could feel her stretching to find the right words. I should have left it alone.

It turns out that her father was a dick. Overbearing, demanding to be the center of attention, used to getting his way and trying to make himself bigger by making others smaller, his wife and daughter were adjuncts of himself instead of people in their own right. She told me how old videos of her mother made her sad. She seemed so vibrant and alive, but decades with her father had quashed that. He was like Frank, only 20 years older.

And because I'm an idiot, I dredged this up.

My responses grew slower as I tried to think of what to say in response to these slow, painful revelations. What could I say? There were no words from a virtual stranger that could ease her pain or make things okay, regardless of how much I didn't want to be a stranger and wanted to help.

We eventually made a few weak jokes and ended things awkwardly. I was too sad and pissed off at myself to be angry. Resigned was closer to the truth; resigned that it was over and that would be the last I'd hear from her.

"Dude, pizza's getting cold."

"Whatever."

"You want me to throw it in the fridge?"

"Tim, do whatever the fuck you want. Throw it in the fridge, toss it out, eat it; whatever."

With a frown, he slowly nodded his head, grabbed some foil, wrapped the slice and stacked it in the mini-fridge with the others. I put on my running shoes and an old tee and headed towards the door. I needed to do something, anything to clear my head and get out of the emotional fog. How on Earth did this woman come to mean so much to me after so short a time?

"Hey, hold up."

Tim was pulling on his sneakers.

I frowned. "I'll be back in an hour, okay?"

"No, not really. I'm going with you."

"What?"

"Look, something went down and I don't want you, you know, alone, I guess. We don't have to talk or anything, I'll just go with you. We can talk if you want to. You know I'm just joking around about her, right? I don't want you to hook me up. I see how you get when she texts. Let's just get out of here for a while, go for a run and things'll look better when we get back."

I smiled in spite of myself. "That's... Thanks, but I'm good. Not being a dick, but I need to push it and you're not an everyday runner and you just had three slices of deep-dish."

He grinned and put his hands on his stomach. "I wasn't going to say anything but thank God you turned me down. I would've puked after half a mile."

Laughing, I opened the door. "Thanks, Tim. Be back in a bit."

I ran and I thought. What was normal for me would be to step back, wait for something, anything and if it didn't come, just accept it and move on. Step after step I became more resolute. That wasn't going to happen this time. I was too passive. I liked Casey, truly liked her. I wasn't just going to be a passenger on this ride, going wherever it took me.

By the time I got back, I knew that I was going to text her. I'd give her some space and a bit of time and reach out the next day. I felt oddly energized. Not sitting back and waiting for things to happen wasn't who I normally was, and I liked the change. Grabbing my laptop, I went to do some studying when I got a ping notifying me of an email.

Hey, handsome! Thought you were going to call? Free tonight? We can get started on those boats... or anything else you'd like. I'm making my famous marinara. Get that cute butt over here! 8:30?

Hugs!

Mandy

I sighed.

Hey, Mandy. Thanks for the offer, but I can't tonight. I've got a big project coming up in ALA. Gonna be hitting the books pretty hard.

I'd barely had time to look at some notes when there was another ping.

You work too hard! Can't study on an empty stomach. I'll bring over some of my world famous pasta? Which dorm are you in and what's the room number?

What the actual fuck?

Wow, that's really great of you, but I'm gonna have to take a raincheck. If you come by I'll be all distracted. I've got pizza in the fridge, so I'll make it through. Thanks, though!

Another ping.

You're no fun. : ) Okay, if you get done early, call me. Anytime. I'm up late. Even if you just want to talk or stop by. For any reason. You have my number?

Yeah, Mandy. I have your number. You've given it to me a dozen times.

I didn't reply and instead got to studying. I built in a 90-minute break at 7:30. I was going to have dinner with Michelle at Medici on 57th. She'd either pay me some token for the tutoring or buy my dinner, and I was fine with either. By that time, I'd need to clear my head before jumping back in for a few more hours.

Studying with a full stomach was impossible for me. I'd fall asleep almost immediately. With that in mind, I ordered a salad with grilled chicken breast. Michelle was having lasagna and it looked amazing, but she just picked at it, sighing occasionally.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. No, actually. It's Frank. He..."

We were interrupted by a too-loud voice. "I see what sort of figures you're studying, Craig."

Ugghh. I looked up into Mandy's glare. She was clutching a to-go bag and looking down at us.

"What's the matter, bitch? Frank's doing Kelly, so you have to go after Craig? I've told you; he's taken." She turned to me. "This? Really? You're not with me because of Ms. Popular? Some ratchet whore that's probably been with half the campus, and you'd prefer to be with her? Fine! Take the football team's leftovers, just get yourself to the clinic when you pull out of that swamp. We... Craig, we..."

She turned and left. Michelle sat there, open mouthed.

"What. The. Hell?"

"Michelle, I am SO sorry. That... that was the most embarrassing... I don't know what to say. She's crazy."

"Ya think? Stalker much?"

"Did she really tell you I was taken?"

"Sort of. Not in so many words, but she'd tell me how you were working on ships or boats or whatever together and how she was going to take up running and... That girl is nuts."

"Really, Michelle, I've never even gone out with her. I'm... dammit. Look, I really am sorry. Let me buy dinner?"

"No, I already owe you. And to be honest, I needed to talk to a friend. She's crazy, but she was right about Frank. He finally realized that I wasn't just playing, and he wasn't going to get any from me, so he's getting it from Kelly."

This was awkward.

"Oh. Uhm, sorry, I guess. That sorta sucks."

"Yeah. I mean, I'm not a prude. I guess deep down I know what the deal was. If it was the right person, that would be different. Some part of me knew Frank wasn't, but it still hurts that he'd hook up with her and not even bother ending it with me or saying anything."

"He's..." I didn't know what to say. "Listen, Frank's an idiot. You're going to find someone better than him and it's going to be soon."

"Thanks, Craig. Listen, I know you need to get back. Can we do something tomorrow? Maybe just a couple of hours? I don't want to stay alone and mope all day. My brother keeps telling me I should watch "The Rocketeer". It was like one of the first comic-book movies. Bring your roommate or someone, I'll make popcorn. I've got like five different toppings. I need to... I don't know. Laugh, hang out. Something."

"Yeah, sure. Tomorrow night, after, I don't know, seven?"

"That'd be great. Craig?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't bring Mandy."

I smiled. "Funny."

She laughed. We finished our food and I went back to the books. The next day I went for a morning run and then texted Casey. I was nervous, but she got right back to me and everything was fine again. We joked and teased and laughed and I felt relieved and sort of energized.

HER

When my burner phone went off the next morning, I was torn between delight and trepidation.

I texted him back because that was the rule I'd set for myself. I could text him if he texted me first. It didn't matter that I'd already broken that rule and that I shouldn't have been texting him and that it was all going to end horribly, terribly, heartbreakingly bad.

For a few glorious hours, I let myself feel the delight. Things flowed smoothly, easy conversations that felt almost... almost real, even though she wasn't real.

It was like the divulging of my lamentable past had brought us closer together. It should have been a milestone, a turning point in the strange and beautiful friendship we were developing. He didn't see me as just a concept anymore, but as a person. A friend.

It's just too bad that one of us wasn't actually a real person.

It was also too bad that he had a girlfriend. Or, might have a girlfriend. I was confused about the entire situation. Asking him about it was off the table, though. He had never told Casey about any other girls, and I didn't exactly have the option to ask him myself. I couldn't even imagine how to bring up the topic after what I'd heard.

But I let myself forget about that for a while. I let myself enjoy the conversation with him, giving in to the temptation to just pretend for a few hours. Things didn't start going downhill until I saw him in person.

That wasn't odd or bad, in itself. I mean, I knew him. What was odd was hearing him talk about me.

Me, as in Casey, that is.

He was asking about her quietly. It was sort of endearing, actually, watching him try to casually work it into conversations.

"Listen, speaking of music, have you ever met Casey Arlington? Yeah, the girl from... yeah. I was hoping to run into her one of these days. You know what she's taking here?"

"Maybe she's in medicine? Why don't you just ask her?"

Then he'd shrug and awkwardly change the subject.

Of course, nobody knew her. She didn't exist.

Somewhat thankfully, he didn't ask Casey what she was taking. I didn't have an answer for it, and it might have really been the thing that ended everything. I wouldn't have been able to respond. I'd made it clear that Casey was a UC student. I mean, she had the email address and everything.

I didn't quite know what to think about his asking, either. I left class confused, something that very rarely happened when I was leaving class. If he had a girlfriend, why was he trying to find Casey?

He might have asked a few more people if they knew Casey, but if he did, he gave up relatively quickly.

I nearly puked when the next text came through.

Are you around campus? Maybe we could meet up for lunch.

I responded back quickly, hoping the panic I felt wasn't blatantly obvious on my face as people walked by.

Sorry, cutie. Have an appointment I can't miss.

My hands were shaking so much I almost sent it before deleting the last part of the text, which had said "Maybe another time?" It would have been a stupid, horrible, wretched mistake, and I was almost shaken enough to have made it.