Amanda Filipacchi - The Unfortunate Importance of Beauty

Three minutes later, she sees him ambling into the coffee shop area. He looks around, searching for someone wearing a mask, sees no one, chooses an empty table, hangs his jacket on the back of the chair, and stands in line to buy a snack.

Lily decides that she will make her entrance when he’s back at his seat. She feels more nervous than she expected.

While she waits, a young man tries to start a conversation with her. No one ever tries to pick her up, so at first she doesn’t realize what he’s doing. When it finally occurs to her that asking her what is her favorite time to come to Barnes & Noble is a weird question, she says, “I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now,” and turns back to her object of interest, who’s paying. Strad carries a hot beverage and a plate with a pastry on it to his table. He looks around again, then at his watch, and sits.

Now is the time. Her apprehension has grown. Trying to calm herself, she takes a deep breath.

She pulls out of her shopping bag the green mask of the Wicked Witch of the West wearing sunglasses. She puts it on.

Before she has a chance to take her first step in Strad’s direction, there is a tap on her shoulder and an “Excuse me” behind her. She turns. It’s the same guy again. He jumps with fright, looking aghast.

She lifts up her mask. “What?”

He holds up a book. “This is my favorite novel. Have you read it?”

She thought she’d made herself perfectly clear to this guy.

“I’m sorry, I’m in a relationship,” she lies, “and in the middle of something important. I’d really be grateful if you would leave me alone. I’m sorry.” She replaces the mask over her face, hoping it’ll frighten him away.

He raises his hands. “Shame. But okay,” he says, and walks off.

Strad is now sipping from his cup and reading a magazine.

Lily steps out from behind the bookcase just as a group of people are walking by, headed toward the coffee shop area. She goes with the flow.

Strad looks up from his paper, scanning his surroundings again. He does a double take. He has spotted her behind the approaching heads. His eyes are locked on her mask and he’s not smiling.

He rises from his chair and gives her a courteous nod as she nears. She nods back and stops in front of him. He mumbles hello, says it’s nice to meet her. He indicates the empty chair. She sits.

The first thing he says when they’re seated is, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your sense of humor. But they do say first impressions are very important.” He laughs. “I guess you haven’t heard that?”

“They’re not that important.”

From the start, the fantasy is not going exactly as she had imagined. There’s a different feel to it. First off, the coffee shop is loud. More so than usual. Her soul-baring music is not easy to hear above all the noise. This worries her. She wonders if her music’s transformative power will be diminished or maybe even canceled.

As a result, the thing she has been looking forward to the most — the removal of the mask — she now begins to dread.

Her anxiety is not helped by what Strad asks her next.

“Do you know Barb well?”

“Not that well. I only started working for her recently,” she says, the first of probably many lies.

“Why do you think she wanted to set us up? I don’t entirely trust her motives. I think it’s a trick to teach me a lesson. She disapproves of a couple of my views. They all do, that bunch.” He shakes his head regretfully. “Too bad, really. I admire them.”

He will certainly feel tricked if she takes off her mask and he sees his ugly former colleague Lily sitting in front of him instead of beautiful Sondra. This could happen because of all the racket masking her music. To make matters worse, children are crying at three different tables around them. Unbelievable. It’s not romantic. What bad luck.

She suddenly wishes she didn’t have to take off her mask. Maybe she’ll simply refuse to take it off. She has a right to change her mind. Perhaps she’ll just arrange to see Strad another time, someplace safer, more familiar, such as Barb’s apartment. These thoughts are calming her. And she decides right then that, in fact, she won’t take off her mask. There. She feels much better now.

“God, it’s so loud here,” he complains.

“I know.”

“This cake is great. Here, have a bite,” he says.

“No thanks, I’m not hungry.”

“It would make me so happy if you would taste it.”

Her anxiety returns. Obviously he’s trying to get her to take off her mask.

She will give in without giving in. “Okay,” she says.

She takes the fork he’s handing her, on which rests a piece of tart, and lifts the bottom of her mask just enough to slide the bite into her mouth.

She chews and releases the mask to where it was. “Mmm. It’s good,” she says.

Lily glances at Strad. He is solemn. Clearly he’s disappointed that she hasn’t removed her mask as she’d promised she would. Well, tough.

Taking it upon herself to get the conversation going again, she says, “So, Barb tells me you’re a musician. What kind of music do you play?”

“Wait,” he says. “I’m still recovering.”

“Recovering?” she asks, puzzled.

“Yes,” he says, gazing down, looking almost pained.

“From what?”

“That glimpse of your chin,” he replies, softly.

She doesn’t respond.

“I think I’d like to get together again, based solely on your chin.”

“Ah.” She doesn’t know what else to say. All she can think about is how relieved she is that the music worked well enough on her chin. And not only that, he wants to see her again. Things could not be better.

They chat about various things. He tells her about the evening he spent having dinner with the Knights of Creation at Barb’s apartment, and how they attacked Jack and then were handcuffed for dinner to a ballet bar and then were sectioned off for dessert by a transparent plastic sheet hanging from the ceiling. Lily tries to react as though she wasn’t there. But conveying amusement and amazement while masked is not easy and has to be done entirely with voice and body language, which she does as best she can by flinging her head around and laughing loudly.

Then Strad moves on to the topic of Lily’s music. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s her music playing, right now,” he says, finger pointing up, ear cocked. “That’s if you can hear it above all this howling. God, you’d think we were in a day care center. Anyway, if that’s her music, probably before we leave here today we’ll have bought at least five books each.”

Lily laughs. “Really?”

“Oh yeah, you’ll see. Lily’s got phenomenal talent.”

Suddenly, a floor manager appears at their table.

Lily and Strad stare up at him, wondering what it’s about.

The manager leans toward them and says, in a hushed voice, “Excuse me, your mask is upsetting the children. I’ve had a few complaints from mothers. Would it be too much to ask you to please remove it? I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was the cause of the crying,” Lily says.

The manager nods sympathetically, waiting for her to take it off.

Lily frantically wonders if her music is loud enough to work its magic. It did okay with her chin, apparently. But she’s gripped by an irrational fear that now the effect won’t work.

She’s tempted to tell the manager, “In my bag I have another, much more attractive mask that the children might prefer. Could I just switch masks in the bathroom?”

But why postpone the inevitable? She did not spend weeks struggling to create music that would beautify her just to keep her face hidden.