[:::: Authors Note ::::]
As humans there are a few different views that we project on the people we interact with. Sure, we all like to think we are as honest in public as we are at home or by ourselves, but the truth is that we all project a different perception of ourselves depending upon the circumstances we are in or the people we are talking to. Some of us hide behind masks, our experiences driving us to behave differently to what we see as our true selves.
As always, thank you to my editing team. They always do a great job of catching a lot of my mistakes, and I do like to tinker up to the point of release, so the spelling and grammatical mistakes are all mine. If you want to pick on syntax, that's your right, just don't expect me to respond to hate mail around that, I'll ignore it in favour of just enjoying writing a story.
It's been a couple of years now, and I have enjoyed sharing a little of my journey in the notes I put in these stories. Beth, my amazing wife also constantly asks me how I'm feeling, am I enjoying the process, does continuing to write help me with my struggles? I have taken a few days and when I started writing this, I was still pondering those questions.
Just to let you know, this is a cut down version of the full version, about 35,000 words, but I think it gives everyone the core of the story.
Lastly, In response to a number of private messages and emails that I have received from all of you and discussions with my beautiful wife, Beth. Yes, I am still immensely enjoying the process of creating stories, characters, scenarios and pushing the 'Otherverse' as some have termed it.
I think I still have more to give, even to those that don't like my style.
Now with that said, I hope that you enjoy this one.
[:::: Masked Confidence ::::]
[:::: 1 - Tom - Reflection ::::]
Success.
In my experience, the word success is a fickle term. It can mean different things. It could mean you're doing well, you're meeting your goals, or it could also mean rising above the expectations that you set for yourself or by those around you. But success is often only a few moments from failure. When someone praises you for your success you can often bet that once the words have left their mouths, they're often also looking for you to slip up, to knock you off your pedestal.
For the past two and a half years I had worked for Capital Brokerage, one of Sydney's top brokerage firms. For the first six months I worked as an analyst. However, for the last two, I have been rapidly promoted up the ladder as my trades have made more profit and generated more outcomes for the company than anyone else in the firm's history.
Not every one of my trades are winners, but enough are that I've been called successful.
Today, I have an apartment overlooking the world-famous Sydney Harbour Bridge. I am walking distance to our office and any number of pubs, clubs, and entertainment venues. I have a car that turns heads, and I work out at the gym a number of times each week. I am fitter than ever. By anyone's estimation, I am a success.
But in my mind, I don't feel like it.
Tonight is one such night. I finished my shopping earlier, and now I'm sitting on my balcony, hearing the never-ending traffic of the Sydney business district. The cars, trams, businesses, and people revelling or yelling. I have a nice wine, a merlot that I have grown fond of, in one hand and a picture of myself and others in the other.
No, I reflect, looking at the picture of happier times. I am not successful; I am a failure. If I were a success, then we would all still be together, I wouldn't be alone.
[:::: 2 - Traci - The Mask Slips ::::]
"Good morning, Tom," I greet our company's rising star with a smile. Tom is an amazing example of masculinity. Aside from his intellect and endearing nature, he is tall and broad-shouldered, and it seems like every follicle of the thick lustre of his brown hair is in place yet moves naturally with his body. He's fit and toned under his suit, and everyone knows he spends at least three hours in the gym several times a week.
Adding to this, Tom came in and unbidden this morning, placing a large coffee on my desk.
"Good morning, Traci," he said, looking me directly in the eyes, making my heart beat just a little faster. "A large, half-strength almond milk latte with a single pump of caramel," he rattled off, his entire demeanour again causing my breath to catch.
"Thank you..." I started to say, and then I stopped. I was looking into his eyes, those big brown expressive eyes. We ladies loved Tom's bedroom eyes. But this morning, while there was a smile on his face, his eyes told a different story. You would need to know him, know how he moved, and express himself to see it, but there was something off about him this morning. I could see it in his eyes.
"Traci?" he said a moment later, and I blinked. When I looked back at him, the pain and sorrow were gone, and he was back to being Tom. What had just happened?
"Uh, Sorry, Tom. I was just going to say what a doll you are," I said, recovering and placing a silly grin on my face. "Those tickets to the opera last weekend, that they just happened to turn up on my desk with a coffee just like this, were greatly appreciated."
"Well," he said, and this time, the smile reached his eyes. While I can neither confirm nor deny where the tickets came from, I can tell you that I overheard your mother was coming to town and loved opera."
I blushed.
"She was here, and she loved the show, we both did," I replied. Then I looked around conspiratorially and mouthed, 'Thank you.'
Tom nodded, picking up his briefcase before heading for his desk. He greeted several of his fellow traders on the way. I took a sip of my coffee and sighed, perfect like always.
But just now there was something there. I knew it wasn't my imagination, I know I saw it. The mask he wore had slipped and beneath it was a man in pain. As I sipped my coffee, I daydreamed that I could be the one to help him with that pain. But then I chastised myself for thinking that way, if he knew my own past. Damm it, I knew it would never happen, but a girl can dream.
Moments later, the first customer of the day showed up, so putting aside my personal thoughts I once again became the welcoming face of Capital Brokerage.
[:::: 3 - Tom - Cheat Day ::::]
My week passed slowly, and I was feeling a little off thanks to my interactions with Traci. However, it was now Saturday morning, and last night, I had been Latin dancing at a club on George St until around midnight. In the beginning, it was just me and a few of the office team, but it didn't take long before I was dancing with various women who had seen me enjoying myself.
Saturday morning was an all-body workout for me. I woke early, dressed, and made my way to the gym, where I worked my core, lifted for a while, and pushed hard on both my legs and arms. It didn't have the intensity of my other workouts throughout the week, but I always had a nice burn by the time I finished, and then I was free to enjoy my favourite indulgence of the week.
Like most capital cities, Sydney has its hidden gems, bars and restaurants that some people swear by and others hate with a passion. But there is something for everyone, and for me, on Saturday morning after a workout, it was Pow's Chinese.
Pow's had an all you can eat buffet that I couldn't go past. So still clad in my workout gear, I bought one of their large plates and filled it to the brim with every dish they had. Fried rice, omelette, honey chicken, sweet and sour pork, Mongolian beef. The owners were an older Chinese couple that despite the fast-food nature of the cuisine, knew their flavours and cared about their product. On top of the not so healthy meal, I always bought a bottle of coke. The full sugar one, not diet. Together, the meal and the drink were my cheat for the week, and I looked forward to it from the moment I left the gym, sometimes getting two or even three plates of food.
I know I was making almost obscene sounds as I was finishing off my third plate when I saw her exit the store, and our eyes met.
She hesitated for a moment before she made her decision and strode over to me.
