Tarnished Beauty Read Online Free PDF Page A

brain. The electrical impulses are interrupted and—”
    â€œJamilet is as healthy as a horse, doctor,” Lorena said. “She’s never been sick, not even a sniffle.” She dropped her head and stretched her fingers out, as if looking at them for the first time and marveling at their ability to move independently. “But…sometimes she stares into space and won’t answer me when I talk to her. I believe she’s daydreaming.”
    â€œIs that so?” Dr. Martinez turned to face Jamilet. He produced a tiny flashlight from his jacket pocket, and passed the light across her eyes several times. He placed his hands on his hips. “Do you hear your mother at these times when she says you’re daydreaming?”
    â€œI like to make up stories, and sometimes I don’t hear anything but my own voice in my head.”
    Dr. Martinez furrowed his brow. “How long have you been making up these stories?”
    â€œSince I was little, even before I learned how to talk.”
    â€œIs it only your voice you hear? Or do you hear other voices as well?”
    Jamilet inched herself to the edge of the examining table. “I hear many voices. It’s like a whole play in my head, like the ones they do in church during Easter, except I’m the one who makes up all the words, and if the play is really good, I can see it all in my mind too.”
    Dr. Martinez smiled at the curiosity of this simple child, speaking with such zealousness about her stories. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about here.” He gently thumped her forehead with his finger. “There’s a very good brain inside that lovely head.” He turned back to Lorena. “I should also add that there is some evidence to suggest that hereditary factors may be associated with this condition.” He considered the baffled expression on her face and continued. “It can be hereditary and passed down from relatives, like eye color and height. I assume you don’t have anything…”
    Lorena shook her head, her lips pressed together, preparing for what she knew would come next.
    â€œAnd the father? Do we know…?”
    â€œMy husband died many years ago, Doctor, and he didn’t have the mark, or whatever it is that you called it.”
    â€œHe was killed by bandits,” Jamilet added, as she’d recently decided that this was the version of his demise she found most worthy of retelling. “They shot him right between the legs.”
    Dr. Martinez’s eyebrows flickered in surprise, and then he politely coughed and reached for a chart on the counter.
    Lorena’s voice was shrill. “And what about a cure, doctor?”
    â€œA removal, you mean?”
    Lorena nodded anxiously, her eyes teary as she opened her purse in search of a tissue.
    Dr. Martinez’s expression, which had been so confident before, grew doubtful. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid there’s little we can do at this stage in the way of removal. Perhaps when Jamilet was younger we could have treated it aggressively, but now it would be impossible to remove without risking severe injury.”
    â€œIt’s okay, Mama,” Jamilet said when she saw the tears streaming down her mother’s face.
    â€œBut, Doctor,” Lorena implored, no longer caring if she appeared composed or appropriate. “How can she go through life with that horrible thing living on her back? Look at her face. She’s a beautiful girl, my Jamilet. There must be something we can do, somewhere else we can go.”
    â€œI understand your concern,” Dr. Martinez said, and his eyes crinkled with well-rehearsed compassion. “There are some new treatments I have little experience with, involving the use of lasers, a kind of very intense light. There have been some promising studies, but I sincerely doubt that in your daughter’s