Baghead

 He sat in his living room, in his robe, reading the newspaper. He loved doing the crossword puzzles. His wife would bring him breakfast every morning at eight. He would thank her and she would kiss the bag where she assumed his forehead was and return to the kitchen. 

 She stood over the dishes, waiting for the water to be hot enough before adding soap and dropping each plate into the sink. She was daydreaming about being at the park, reading a book, inhaling the fresh Spring air, without a care in the world. That's when she heard the crinkling of paper. She turned around and Douglas was standing there, his dirty dish in his hand, the paper tucked under his left arm. "All finished," he said. 

 She smiled and took the dish from him and returned to daydreaming. He stood and watched her for a moment and then decided it was time for a shower. 

 She had never seen him without the paper bag over his head. Most people found that weird. That, if given the chance, she wouldn't be able to pick her husband out of a lineup. But she loved him. He understood her. He was the only man she had ever known that was that patient. She made her way up to the bedroom and checked the bathroom door, but he always made sure to lock it. She put his dirty clothes into the hamper, looked at the door one more time, smiled, and walked down to the laundry room. 

 Douglas had a bag for every mood. For the angry one, the eyes were barely slits. The mouth curved downwards into a disapproving grin. For happy, the eyes were wide - almost a look of surprise - and the mouth was a gaping hole. For calm, everything was perfectly shaped. The eyes normal. The mouth a small hole. She never understood how he changed them so fast and without anyone ever seeing his face, but he was a master at it. 

 That night, lying in bed, she asked him, "Do you think you will ever love me enough to show me your face?" 

 The bag crinkled as he looked towards her. His breathing sucking the paper into his mouth and getting wet around the edges. "How can you ask me that?" He said. "You know I love you. I do this for your own good. You would no longer love me if you knew what I was hiding." 

 She sat up and said, "That's completely not true. I love you with all my heart. I always will. Nothing would change that." 

 "People are always so certain before action," he said. 

 "If you don't want to, I understand, "She said. 

 "Good," he replied. He kissed her and, every time he did, she would get a paper cut on her bottom lip. 

 He fell asleep before she did. She lied there just watching the bag go in and out of his mouth. She wondered what his hair looked like and she wanted it twirled around her fingers. Or to just grab large clumps of it and pull as hard as she could. To feel his beard, or stubble, or his clean-shaven face against her cheek. She fell asleep watching his square head. 

 He came down the stairs wearing his sad bag. The eyes were cut into the shape of tears and his mouth was a bubbled lower case N. 

 "What wrong?" his wife asked him. 

 He sat down in his chair, completely ignoring the paper and the glass of orange juice she had left for him on the side table. 

 She stood looking at him until he finally said, "I've been thinking about what you said." The bag sucked into his mouth and he looked at her. "I want you to finally see me." 

 She sat down on the couch and started crying, never taking her eyes off his cut-out ones. "Are you sure?" she asked. 

 "Yes," he said. "Yes. But not right now. Tonight." 

 "Okay," she said, smiling through the tears. "Okay. Tonight it is." She stood up, not sure what to do with herself. 

 "Will you make me breakfast?" he asked. 

 "Yes. Yes, of course," she said. "Mmmhmm. Breakfast." She smiled and laughed nervously and then walked quickly to the kitchen. 

 She walked to the bedroom and checked the bathroom door. It was unlocked. He was in the shower. She slowly opened it and popped her head in as quietly as she could. His blonde hair could be seen over the top of the shower. She thought about how she had always wanted to be with a blonde guy and she closed the door before she made too much noise and walked back downstairs. He spent the rest of the afternoon in the bathroom.

 Douglas sat on the couch. She sat next to him. Her hands were folded between her knees. He was wearing his normal bag. No expression - not happy, scared or angry - like she had expected. She stared at her feet. They sat facing the fireplace. 

 "Okay," he said after a few minutes. "I'm ready." 

 "Okay," she said, trying to contain how excited she was. She stood up and moved in front of him. Her trembling hands moved towards the bag, and he inhaled deeply, almost sucking the entire bag into his mouth before she could even remove it. 

 She grabbed the top of the bag and said, "Here goes nothing." She slowly raised it and saw his adam's apple. She was so excited. She kept pulling and saw paper covering his chin and got confused. She removed the bag completely and he sat on the couch, wearing a smaller paper bag that had a detailed face drawn on it. The eyes were a sky blue color. The eyebrows were even and he had drawn a goatee around the small mouth. 

 Douglas began to cry and so did she. 

 "I guess I'm not ready yet," he said as he placed his hands upon his paper bag head. 

 "I guess not," his wife replied. She looked at the bag in her hands, and the one on his head. Slowly, hesitantly, she placed the bag on top of her head. "Now we're the same," she said. 

 He looked up at her. Stood up. And hugged her. "I love you," he said. 

 "And I you," she replied. 

 Their bags crinkled as they pressed their heads together and the edges of their paper mouths became wet. 

Reviews

[jessica Wray]

nice

[Struggler]

wearing his sad bag. The eyes were cut into the shape of tears and his mouth was a bubbled lower case N.

great visual!

[Rochelle Tyler]

I should have read this right when you told me about it, damnit I never listen! I also thought this was another success, I really enjoyed what was behind this. You always use so many layers in your writing, showing skill in your writing on each level. Great job, especially since its been longer than usual since you've written your last story before this. I also agree with the mention of the paper cut, how it may be better if moved to the end, or again repeated.

[jenniewren (J.W. Bouwma..]

okay so this is my Take 2 for a coherent review.. *grin*

i've read through this many times now. and i feel precisely the same way about it as i did the first time. this is one of your magic pieces. it is incredible. the interplay between the two is not only believable but heartbreakingly lovely. this whole piece is lovely and causes this little quivery tremble down deep in the base of my soul. it REVERBERATES, this story. incredible, love, incredible

[Pen Draggin']

Wow, Dave. Just, wow. Its f*****g spectacular, it had every facet. I enjoyed it thoroughly, it held my attention, and I totally felt redeemed in the end. Little thought, maybe mention the paper cut on the lip with the final kiss, I dont know, I expected it to be tied in and was a little surprised that it wasnt. All in all, it was the best thing I have read of yours, or anyone's in a really long time. And I just spent three days preening through writer's to find existentialism poetry. You're my hero!

[Tim M]

Five stars! This felt expertly crafted, and your scene vs narrative was the perfect pace. There's almost an element of whimsy, like it might be an old parable or fable. Great job man, I really liked this one.

[jenniewren (J.W. Bouwma..]

ahhhh davey-love. this is so beautiful. it filled my heart so full, and yet it also hurts in the best way possible. my god the fairytale of this is pure magic. and the story behind it is just.. damn. i don't have words. this is an ultimate favourite of your writing i have ever read. wonderful.