The
Bid
Avis
Yarbrough
The
auctioneer held up the mask. It was black and red,
with a white line
drawn
around where the eyes would go. There were dots
of diamonds sprinkled over one half of the mask.
“What
a beautiful mask,” cooed the auctioneer. One of
his fingers from one hand grazed the top. The thumb
and pinky finger from his other hand were grazing
the bottom. The auctioneer hands were wrinkled, resembling
wrapping paper scrunched up.
“Is
not this mask a work of art?” asked the auctioneer
of the audience waiting to bid. “It was made around
the 1920’s by the young sculpture Keegan Coldheart,
a gift for his wife.”
The
auctioneer’s gray eyes glanced over the audience,
landing first on the middle aged man dressed in
a tailored black suit and white silk shirt. Then
next landing on the young woman in a black button
down sweater and blue jeans.
“There
is a legend attached to the mask,” said the auctioneer.
The
room groan, “Get on with the bidding Barney,” cried
an exasperated female voice from the front row.
The
statement “Yeah do,” was echoed throughout the room.
The
bidding started. In the end it was between the
woman in the blue jeans and the middle age man
in the back.
“Five-thousand dollars,” said Barney.
The middle age man raised his hands.
“Five-thousand and five-hundred dollars,” said
Barney.
Next,
the woman in the blue jeans raised her hands, and
this is how it went for another five minutes. A
bid, then the middle-age man would raise his hands
followed by the young woman. The bidding came to
an end and the mask went to the middle age man
for eight thousand dollars. Later that night, at
the middle age man house, the woman in the blue
jeans showed up on his doorstep.
“Can I come in?” asked the woman.
“Yes,” said the middle age man not surprise
to see the young woman.
“I want the mask,” said the young woman.
“So, therefore you should get it?” asked
the middle age man.
Hearing
the derision in the man’s voice, the young woman
remained quiet.
“I won the bid,” said the man.
“I want to bid on it again,” said the young
woman.
“It is only a mask.”
“That is easy for you to say since it
is yours. What do you want?” said the young woman.
The
man’s green eyes traveled slowly down her body and
back up again.
The woman stood still and took a deep breath,
“You want to have sex with me.”
“No. Do you think I am handsome?” asked
the man.
“Yes” said the woman and she were being
honest.
“I like my looks I want to retain them.
I want your youth to help me do that.”
The
young woman brown eyes widen but she seemed to
be listening to him intently.
The
man continued, “I don’t want all your youth just
about five years worth of it enough to take away
a couple of my gray hair and wrinkles.”
“That is not possible,” whispered the young woman.
She knew in her heart that what she said was true,
but the pounding of her heart said something different.
“I thought the best thing about being young is
that you believe everything is possible,” said the
man. “Your youth for the mask, a bargain. After
all you want the mask, right?”
“Yes,” said the woman.
“You are a determined and persistent young
woman. I am offering you what you want. Will you
leave empty-handed?
“Will it hurt?” asked the woman.
“No.”
The woman took a deep breath and said,
“Okay.”
“Come here and give me a kiss than,” said
the man.
The
young woman walked over to him slowly, stood in
front of him and waited. The man leaned down and
kiss her gently on the lips. It was a chaste,
almost fatherly kiss. When the woman stepped back
she looked at the man seeing no physical changes
in him.
As though reading her mind the man said,
“It takes a while.”
The
woman nodded her head slowly, thinking she felt
different. She rushed to the mirror that was hoisted
on the man’s living room wall, and she saw that
she did not look any different.
“I will get you the mask,” said the man.
He got the mask, handed it to the young woman.
“Take care,” he said.
The
woman left feeling disconcerted and went home. At
home, the young woman still had the feeling that
she had changed somehow. She looked in her bedroom
mirror still seeing the same face she saw this
morning before she left for the auction.
It was years later, that the young woman saw the
middle –age man again while walking down the street.
He still looked handsome. He just had more gray
hair and more wrinkles, but for the most part he
was aging gracefully. The mask she had wanted so
desperately sat in her living room above the useless
fire place. She would gaze at it with a feeling
that had been growing inside of her since that
night, the price she paid for it was to high. What
she lost she was not sure but looking at the man
she knew he would be able to tell her. She watched
him walk down the street within calling distance
almost out of range. She opened her mouth to ask
him a question but she hesitated, and before she
could figured out what she wanted to ask the man
he had gone.