Beautiful Blemish Read Online Free

someone with a name like Jake gets a nickname like Skip.   I push a code into my telephone so that he can't return my call.   I dial the number and begin to feel hot and stiff.   "Hello," a woman's voice sings to me.   "Hello," she says again.   I listen for sounds, any evidence that it is Skip's number.   I start to say, "Is Skip there?" but the woman interrupts me and says she can't hear me.   I hang up.
     It is still too early to go to bed and I am feeling restless, afraid, somehow violated.   I turn on the television and find myself becoming intrigued with a documentary program about Tony Orlando.   I remember watching the Tony Orlando and Dawn Show as a child, or maybe it was a teenager.   I remember that my father didn't like him, and if he came home while my mother and I were watching, he would turn the channel furiously.   This was back when there were only three or four channels.   I'm not sure if my father was racist but he said he hated Mexican music.   Still, he had no problem eating Mexican food nearly every day.
     All of these memories make me feel like crying and make me wish I could talk to my father and ask him about his feelings concerning Mexico .   I phone my mother once again.   This time she picks up.   "Mother, this is Carol.   Can I ask you a couple of questions?"
     "I'm a little occupied right now, honey," she says.
     All my fear comes rushing back.   "What do you mean?   Do you have company?"
     "Do I ever."
     "Mother, wait.   Is there a man named Skip over there with you?"
     "Why yes, honey, we were talking about you earlier.   He says he knows you from the mall.   Told me you walked with him the other day, before you passed out.   It was so nice of him to help you."
     "Mother, there is something wrong with that man.   He keeps leaving me these weird gifts.   I think he was the one who broke into the office last week.   And he did something to the men's bathroom at work too."
     "Well, I believe you when you say he's not the most ordinary man, but honey, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character.   And besides, we just instantly hit it off."
     I feel like screaming, pleading, driving over to her hotel and throwing the mall walker out of her room.   My mother is anxious to get off the phone and all I can say to her is, "Call me if he does anything weird, and be careful."
    
The next morning I see Skip walking with a stretching grin on his face.   It seems to almost cut his face in half.   He trots over to me and extends his hand.   "It was such a pleasure to meet your mother yesterday," he says.   I reluctantly take his hand as he catches his breath.   "I saw you talking to her and I just wanted to ask her how you were.   I thought it was just one of your friends or a sister.   She's really something."   He pulls me into his chest and gives me a hug.   Once more, I feel hot and stiff.   "I'm glad to see you're doing okay.   You look like you're at the top of your health and beauty again.   I guess it must run in the family," he says to my ear.   He releases me and I almost crumble to the ground.   Without muttering a single word to him, I slip into the office and head to the bathroom.   I release a small amount of bile into the toilet.
     As the workday progresses, a queasiness remains floating in my belly.   I answer the phone and run scheduling charts on my computer. Nearly every time I look up I notice Skip walking by outside the window, his body moving forward, yet his face always turned to me, mouth smiling, eyes gleaming.   Even among the
midday
shoppers, he is still walking back and forth through the long mall, working up a sweat.
     I can't concentrate and begin to run the wrong charts.   My boss comes up to me and, dreading his criticism, I brace myself for some disciplinary words.   Instead, he gives me a neatly wrapped gift, the size of a large book.