Their Masks

The Assistant's Mask (Part 3)

All her affairs were in order.

She had done everything she could have ever wanted to do in this life of fame. There were no regrets in her heart.

That was what Mitchelle kept repeating in her head as she packed her things. Resigning from Amelia Ventica was a process in itself. She had been seen with the rich brat too many places. Her extrication from the girl's life without prior warning would leave too many rumors in the air.

Bad publicity was always a given around Amelia. But no one was allowed to make her look bad but Amelia herself.

So Mitchelle had to fake her need for retirement from the life at a lavish party that was hosted in the rich brat's mansion.

The company that Amelia hired for her amusement almost cried at her speech of gratitude to her employer for the best four years of her life. If Mitchelle didn't know this was all an act, she would have been sold on the drama here.

Amelia herself was up on the stage to thank her for a wonderful job. She called her work 'exemplary', stating how sad she was to losing her good friend since four years back. Mitchelle was surprised by how the rich girl's charm was always warm in front of a camera. She would appear as a caring human being when the lenses were uncapped but turn into an emotionless grouch when the cameras stopped flashing. Mitchelle was just wondering how she had been able to fool her all these years of her working period into thinking this was easy to her.

Nevertheless, the assistant played her part well and any gossip enthusiast would read tomorrow's tabloids and magazines and observe a teary farewell between two long-time friends.

That party was two days ago and it was the best feeling in the world being her own boss. Her severance cheque was quite a sizeable amount, but she did know who she was working for after all. This morning she had woken up to a nice aroma of bacon and eggs wafting into the room.
She dragged herself to the bath and enjoyed a nice hour of having the hot water drizzle on her from the showerhead. Then she put on her robe and went to join Wanda in the kitchen for some breakfast. The woman had known how hectic her life had been. The breakfast was almost a celebration.

But now, as the sun was setting, the impact of what awaited Mitchelle was finally sinking in. She was about to go back to her birthplace. Back to the place where her own mother had expressed only too clearly that she did not want to see her in.

But she would beg on her knees if necessary. She would do anything there was needed to be done so she could be at her father's funeral. Nothing could wound her ego if it was all that would appease her mother and allow her to return in the woman's heart.

She was finally packed, her plane ticket on the coffee table when the doorbell rang. She had been waiting for the driver for a while now. But the driver at the door when she opened it was not from the airport. Mitchelle was surprised that the driver had come to see her. Last time she had seen him was at the party.

That ended horribly.

He was not prepared to know that her freedom meant she would be leaving this state. He had asked her to stay, begged her for that matter. But Mitchelle had pressing issues at home that were already four years overdue. Some words were exchanged in the heat of the moment and the driver left having been told that he wasn't needed in her life.

Today he looked tired to Mitchelle.

Not because he had not slept. Anyone who worked for Amelia did not know what the concept of rest was. No, he looked tired to the assistant by the expression he wore on his face. It was the expression of a man coming to terms with the reality in front of him.

"Hey."

"We need to talk."

So there would be no pleasantries. Mitchelle supposed she shouldn't have expected any after what she had said to him at the party.

"I don't have a lot of time."

"I will be brief then."

She always liked that about him. He never pressured his ideals on her, never insisted that Mitchelle do things his way. He always found a common ground that was favorable to both of them. That was just one of the many reasons she loved the man.

She nodded and let him inside. Her flight left in an hour and it took forty minutes to drive there from her apartment. So all she had for the love of her life was twenty minutes. Mitchelle knew she owed him more than that.

But that was all she could give.

"You love me, Mitchelle."

It was not a question. That much was evident in his tone. But it felt like one when he said nothing to follow that statement.

"I really do," Mitchelle knew that she never deserved the love that he gave her. There would never come a day that she would say they both loved each other equally. If that would have been the case, she would never have been sacrificing him with the life she was running away from.

"Be that as it may, I know that I cannot persuade you to stay with me here. You have... important things... to take care of," Mitchelle was glad that he restrained himself from cussing. She never liked it when he cussed directly at her like at the party two nights ago.

"Marcus..." she wanted to tell him that this was not what she wanted. That she wanted to stay with him. Be beside him every morning they had in this world. Spend hours on end marveling at the fact that they were each other's forever. But that would be an insult to him at this stage. He deserved to be happy with someone who was not as selfish as she was with how she loved someone.

The driver nodded to himself as he breathed out slowly. Mitchelle didn't know what he was up to, but it seemed he had already confirmed what had brought him here.

The driver moved closer and embraced her. An embrace she was all too familiar with. Mitchelle knew this was going to be the last time she was hugged with this much love.

"I wish you good fortunes in your life's adventures, Mitchelle," he breathed the words in her hair and ended the moment as soon as he had begun it.

Mitchelle felt cold now that he was heading away from her. Every step he took away from her reminded her why she would rue this day for the rest of her life.

Why she would never find another man who was as good as Marcus.
Why she would never find a kinder man.

A better friend.

He was opening the door when her instincts kicked into gear and she had attached herself to his back before he could react. The tears were staining his jacket but Mitchelle couldn't bring herself to let him go. It felt wrong to have this man leave her life.

"I know you love me too, Marcus."

There was a silent moment between them before he answered in a tone that seemed lacking any will to argue.

"More than my own life."

She believed him. She knew that Marcus' love was dozens of times more than hers. His mask seemed the only one she had fully understood in this world. It was one she was always able to hide behind for all these four years she had been in this cruel life of fame.

Mitchelle was going to be selfish with his love just one last time.

"Come with me, Marcus."