The Man With a Dishonest Face - a short story (Special Edition)

    The Man with a Dishonest Face

This is a peculiar story about a man whose face no one trusted. Born in San Francisco, California, he was an only child whose parents provided for him the best they could; but they were not poor. He had friends in the neighborhood and at school, but by the time he reached his teenage years, and his face became more like a man, something strange occurred. His friends disappeared. Not literally. They just simply vanished from his life – one at a time. Sometimes it made him feel like garbage. He saw most of life through books and cinema – there was something magical about sitting in the dark. Also fortunately for him, his mother loved him dearly and nurtured his interests.

As a young, educated man he was always well-dressed. He wore slacks, usually brown to match his hair, and comfortable dress shoes and a dress shirt, never white and rarely with a tie, finished with a sport coat. It was enough to appear trustworthy without overstating the intent. He graduated with a degree in computer-science funded by a full four-year scholarship, of which he achieved by playing tennis – the only individual sport he quickly discovered that others did not need to rely upon him. Since graduation he was unable to secure employment in the field for which he studied – not anywhere. However, within a year of graduation a pandemic stretched its ugly reach across the globe. Many companies quickly adapted to allow remote employment. On the day of his interview the video conferencing software went down, therefore he and the hiring manager needed to adapt and regress to a phone call – so no one saw his face. Although he had no employment history – not even a summer job – his achievement as valedictorian impressed his new employer. He started the following week. It was a start-up technology company in Silicon Valley which recently went public. Many of his colleagues had had to adapt to work from home, but it was natural to him. And whenever there was a video conference call, he simply turned his camera off and provided an excuse whenever asked. Something was different about him, about his appearance. Throughout high-school he did his homework alone, read alone, and even though he scored high on exams no one ever snuck a peek at his answers. They simply didn’t trust him. Once, he asked a girl classmate who awkwardly revealed he had a dishonest face. In the pain of this statement, he learned to simply move on with his life – or so he thought.

Until one day he met Ruya. She lost her sight as an infant and was discarded by her parents – actually by her father, but her mother was silenced on the matter. Fortunately, a missionary couple rescued her from a dumpster and cared for her as their own. She returned with her new parents to America and, when old enough, attended a private school for the blind. One sense was replaced by a gift – the gift of mercy. Eventually, her gift developed into grace. Her classmates were naturally drawn to her. In fact, her gift was sometimes seen as a fault – the fault of being too trusting.  One day in elementary school a couple of boys in the fifth grade asked her to lay her arm out on her desk. She liked one of these boys, so compliance was easy. Once of them took an eraser to the back of her hand and slow rubbed. As first, it seemed like a harmless game. It began to hurt. Her skin hurt. She pulled away in tears and snatch her white cane and quickly left class – without alerting the teacher. She made it home, only three blocks way, and felt the walls of her house as if to hug them. She cried in her bedroom until her mother replaced the house with her own hugs – moments later revealed that her school had called. It was time to return – face the reality of the bully.

In high-school, she excelled in her studies and graduated two years prior to others her age, which resulted in a four-year scholarship. Within that time she accelerated her college career and obtained a master’s in physics, a bachelor’s in engineering and a minor in Sociology. She had a unique perspective on the interactions of matter and energy but also with respect to design, and people. Throughout her higher education she applied her knowledge vocationally. It was this application which earned her a position at a well-known space and technology firm in southern California.

In the waning months of the first wave of the pandemic her company hosted a science and technology symposium. A handful of select companies were invited. And this is where Ruya met her husband. Fortunately for him, many people were still donning the mask – no one saw his face, at least not all of it. But he didn’t need a mask when he met Ruya. She was beautiful in every way: dark olive skin and jet-black hair. Her eyes were covered by sunglasses shaped by two tear-drops, the points of which connected to make the bridge which set on her petite nose. She was petite, but she carried herself with strength. Strength of character and wit he soon discovered. It is said that a blind person has the exceptional sense of their environment including the change in air pressure on their skin, even a sensitivity to attire and color. With his permission, she felt his face on their first date. It was an endearing moment; it was a nervous moment – a mix of emotions from one sensation. She sensed something no one had before – integrity and humility. She could tell by the way he spoke, by the way he didn’t speak. By their third date she concluded he was the most trustworthy person – equal her adopted parents. They soon fell in love and were married. From day one of their honeymoon, he prayed a selfless prayer – the restoration of her sight. Even though the result would mean she would see his face, he prayed it, nonetheless.

Her position required her residential proximity near her work. The pandemic continued to come in waves of variants, but even with continuous vaccinations the CDC mandated masks. Most of society had learned to live in the Pandemic Age, but her husband’s presence was not required at his company’s office. With continued virtual attendance they were able to live in Pasadena, and he continued his career without being seen. Until one day, Ruya’s company asked him and a few of his colleagues to join them at a conference in Geneva, Switzerland. Both their skills were of interest by the scientists at the Large Hadron Collider. Some of the greatest scientific minds were expected. Aside from Ruya travelling by plane before her legal adoption, neither had been on a commercial airliner. They were both quite excited, he was more nervous. Although Ruya had not adopted the traditional clothing of her ancestral culture and religion, she had faced some prejudice throughout her childhood – especially in the first decade of the 21^st century. It was the 25^th anniversary of 9-11. And unbeknownst to them both, after they removed their masks to be identified, TSA at LAX had reason to stop them at the checkpoint. They were escorted to separate rooms and strip-searched, questioned, and detained until a Homeland Security agents arrived. This took time. This caused them to miss their flight. After dressing, Ruya prayed for her husband. He prayed for his wife.

The stress tightened her nerves and muscles like a tightrope stretched across two buildings. During her interrogation, Ruya experienced something she hadn’t since – she could not remember. Her sight suddenly returned. She could see the small squares in the floor as if were a net hundreds of feet below while she struggled to balance her emotions. She was in shock. She demanded, "I want to – see -- my husband,” a request she never thought would exit her lips – an urge greater than their escape from their separate yet shared horror. Fortunately, she was keen enough not to reveal the miracle. Her request was denied, but she was soon released. She was escorted to the concierge’s lounge and asked to wait. When she asked about her husband once again, she was refused an answer.

Finally, a Homeland Security agent entered the lounge. Ruya continued her charade. The agent explained in little detail that they were initially detained because her image was detected by the computers of TSA, but later they determined she was the daughter of a known terrorist and only resembled her mother. The agent apologized for the inconvenience after admitting they discovered she had been adopted as an infant; and told her she was free to go. But her husband was not.

“I am not free until my husband is,” she exclaimed. She refused to leave.

She stood as a statue – like stubborn marble. The agent determined she had an unwavering steadfast nature and allowed her to see her husband briefly. While she waited for the reunion, Ruya asked for more information which the agent supplied. Although his face had not been in the database of TSA, they all had a similar hunch of distrust; and the wait was due to an extensive background check.

He entered the room in hand-cuffs. His faced altered from distraught to illumination when he saw Ruya. He was ordered to remain on one side of the room when he attempted to approach his wife. They protested in unison. Their exchange was filled with frightened tones and every other sentence in hesitation. In the midst of their conversation he saw her perform a subtle balance correction in her standing posture when she reached out for the back of a stool directly to her left. He smiled, but his face reflected doubt in her sunglasses – she mistook the expression for continued distress. His joy fought with selfishness – a selfish fear. She closed her eyes and sighed over the ordeal, which inadvertently allowed her to sense his true feelings. She opened her eyes to observe an opportune moment to temporarily remove her sunglasses and reveal the miracle to her husband. 

He nearly wept that her sight was restored – his prayer was answered in the affirmative. But again, with increased intensity, his tears of joy fought with his fear she would now reject him. She returned her sunglasses to her face when the door opened, and another Homeland agent entered. The agent whispered to her colleague which resulted in what seemed to be a reluctant admission of wrongdoing. Her husband’s handcuffs were removed, and both were informed they were free to go. They approached each other – he not as quick as Ruya. With her cane to lead the way, she crossed the room; but heard the agents whisper derogatory names to one another as they peered at her husband – she saw their continued distrust of him. She embraced her husband with all the love accumulated over their years of marriage. She removed her sunglasses and gazed into his eyes as if they had been apart for years. She spoke softly into his ear, “I see you. I love you.”

His eyes lit up and replied, “You are my vision,” he pressed one of her hands to his heart, and with the other he stroked her long black hair.

Just before they left, something caught her eye. A copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird” sat on the edge of a desk. She picked it up and brushed off the dust. It was slightly worn with a few rough edges. She had read it in brail once before and knew of its truths. To everyone’s amazement she looked at the remaining agents and officers, and said in contradiction to their jeers, “This is my husband, who I see as the most honest man I have ever known. And I’m proud to have taken his name.”