She's pretty, I'll admit that. She carries herself like a princess; her hair sways along to the rhythm of her hips as she walks across the campus. Guys want her; girls want to be her. Hell, even the girls want her. She seems to have it all: the looks, the intelligence, the social skills. How can someone be so perfect, right?
At school, I'm the only guy she's friendly with. She smiles at me, waves at me in the hallways, asks me for help when she's stuck on a question in class. She doesn't even try to hide the friendliness that she only shows her friends, so a lot of guys constantly pester me about my relationship with her. I always wave them off. There is nothing romantic going on between the two of us. I wouldn't even say we had anything platonic between the two of us.
It's just a facade. Everyone knows that, but they have the details wrong. They think I'm the one pretending.
I sit down at one of the long tables in the library and plug my headphones in. The history lesson is easy to memorize, so I briefly scan it before speeding through my algebra homework. Everything is boring, and I just want to go home. I lay my head down on the table and close my eyes, dreaming of living alone on an island and connecting with the deepest parts of nature to find out who I am and what I really want to do with my life.
A while later, a tap on my shoulder wakes me up, though I never really slept.
It's her. Maya.
I lazily remove a headphone from one ear to listen to whatever she has to say. A few of her friends stand some feet away from us, whispering and giggling like a pack of mice. They don't even try to be quiet. By now, most eyes in the library are on us. Some gazes are pure curiosity, while others are sharp envy. I wonder when these people will get a life.
"Good night, Taylor. See you tomorrow," she says with a small wave.
I nearly snort. "Yeah, see you," I reply without sparing her a glance.
I can sense her half smile as she accepts my answer and leaves with her friends. The ringing of bells as they exit makes me grimace. Whatever happened to silence in the library?
The boy sitting next to me leans over and whispers, "Dude, isn't it tiring to always pretend? Everyone knows by now, so you don't have to put on that act anymore. Besides, you're good enough for her if that's what you're worried about."
I would push him away and curse the daylight out of him, but that would be a waste of energy. Besides, he's not exactly mocking me. "Thanks, but we're not a thing."
He doesn't seem to buy it, but retreats back to his seat anyway.
I sigh, then grab my bag and walk to the nearby deli for dinner. The calming scent of rain on concrete enters my nose and soothes my soul. It's reassuring to see that no matter how far human innovation goes, nature will always be with us.
I order one ham sandwich and one salad, the usual on Friday nights. A lot of work is due on Monday, so I add an order of coffee for her.
Our house is a grand masterpiece. A neoclassical structure, clean and symmetrical, undoubtedly the wealthiest part of the city. Behind this wealthy neighborhood is a large shed. It's closest to our house, and we hired people to tear it down in spring, but the workers found someone living there. She begged with tears and got on her hands and knees, pleading for the shed to stay up. So we let it stay. My parents are not heartless people. It's just a shed, anyways. It's not like it poses a threat.
Just like my parents, I am not heartless, either.
I knock on the shed door with the bag of salad and coffee in hand. The door opens and Maya pops out. She's wearing the only pajama set she owns, which she'll freeze to death wearing in the winter, so I make a mental note to buy her a warmer set in November. Then, I extend the bag towards her, and she takes it.
"Thank you so much," she says.
I wish she would stop saying that because it makes it sound like I'm a saint, but I understand her. What else would she say? It's just the rule of mutual exchange. "The electricity's up again. Don't work too hard," I tell her.
She nods and clutches the food bag tighter. "You too, Taylor. Don't work too hard. Good night." She turns and shuts the door.
The crickets sing to the harmony of owls hidden in trees. I stare at the parade of fireflies dancing in the distance, lost in my thoughts.
It's always like this every time I visit her. I don't know if I should laugh or frown. I find it funny that she has the nerve to make eye contact with me at school, but not here. Seems like social standings can really change a person. She has it all, yeah. Except money. She's at our private high school on a scholarship, but no one suspects a thing. We all wear uniforms and carry black bags. No one stands out. No jewelry is allowed, so there's nothing for people to show off except for the cars they drive to school. That's why Maya races the sun to get to school and always makes some excuse to go elsewhere after the bell. She gets on everyone's good side at school without being too obvious about it.
This is why I always get pissed whenever she talks to me at school. If she's acting in front of everyone else, then the same goes for her attitude towards me. An act.
But how suspicious would it be if she was kind to everyone but me, right? There's a reason for everything.
Despite that, I still prefer the Maya who opens the shed door every Friday night and accepts the food that I give her. The Maya who wakes up with the roosters and hangs up her laundry in the mornings. The Maya who sometimes sits on the thick branch of the oak tree behind the shed and talks to the birds. Nature is where the true self is revealed.
So many times I've wanted to tell her to give up on pretending. What is the point? She already has so much on her plate, and she's bound to give herself away. So what if people laugh at her? She has to realize that she's so much better than the rest of us. We use money to prove our worth and step above one another, while she got here with hard work and dedication. But of course, none of that matters in the modern world. All you need is money, and Maya doesn't have that. She has to pretend, because that's the only way she can survive. Keep a low profile, don't cause trouble, find a source of income. That's what life is to Maya. If I tell her to drop the act, then I'm being insensitive. What a cruel fucking world.
I walk into the distance and stare at the shed door for a while. What kind of relationship can I have with someone whose bills I pay? What kind of relationship do I want to have with her?
I don't know, obviously. I want to know what I'm going to do with my own life before bringing someone else into it.
YOU ARE READING
Facade
General FictionTaylor comes from a wealthy family and attends a prestigious private high school, but he has no idea what he wants to do in the future. Perhaps Maya, the girl who lives in the shed near his house and feels worlds away from him, can actually help him...