Tarnished Beauty Read Online Free PDF

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    â€œWhere can we find these treatments?” Lorena snapped.
    â€œIn the north…in Los Angeles I believe a few clinics are beginning to use the laser on more superficial birthmarks.”
    Lorena wiped her brow for the third or fourth time. She was breathing heavily and her eyes appeared to float, as though loose in their sockets.
    â€œAre you quite all right, Señora?”
    â€œI’m fine,” she said, her head dropping. “Just a little tired.”
    â€œMama!” Jamilet jumped off the examining table as her mother slipped off the chair and collapsed in a heap on the floor.
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    Lorena was diagnosed with heart problems, and hospitalized for several days. When she was discharged, she was no longer able to work at the Miller house or anywhere else, for she was to rest her heart as much as she could and be spared any and all bad news. She was to sit on the porch during the day when the weather was agreeable, or stay in her bed and face the window overlooking the back field so she could watch Jamilet play and tend to the chili plants.
    The Miller family visited a couple of times, and brought along boxes filled with cans of beans, vegetables, and meats that were already cooked, a rare luxury. Not possessing a can opener, Gabriela demonstrated her proficiency with a hammer and knife, and was so delighted with the gifts that she barely flinched when the knife slipped and she cut her finger.
    Jamilet took the opportunity to show Mary the garden she’d tended for so many years. The peppers were bright and plump and considered to be the best in the market, she was proud to say. Mary considered them briefly, and agreed that they were indeed beautiful, although she did not care for peppers, as they burned her tongue and caused her to sweat profusely. Jamilet directed her attention next to the brook that ran several yards behind their modest house, which was even smaller than the shed where the Millers kept their car and gardening tools.
    â€œOn the other side of that river is the end of the world,” Jamilet informed her friend, for she always thought it was so, and had never been any farther north than that.
    Mary nodded, not particularly impressed. She seemed much more concerned with the condition of her new shoes. After she’d stepped in the loose earth that Jamilet had recently turned and watered, the satin finish became spotted with a fine smattering of mud. “That’s no river,” Mary said, swiping at her shoes with her bare hand. “If you want to see a real river, you should go to the Rio Grande. It’s a hundred times bigger than this.” She stood up, irritated with her lack of progress in removing the dirt. “Do you have a napkin or something for my shoes?”
    Jamilet looked about for something that would do, but seemed at a loss.
    Mary said, “That’s okay, just show me where the bathroom is.”
    Jamilet pointed to the river and smiled.
    That was the last time she ever saw Mary. Months later they learned that the Millers had moved back to Texas. Jamilet pictured her American friend with her blond ponytail swishing back and forth as she walked along the paved streets, smooth as plates, lying end to end. She was laughing and enjoying her reflection in the glass of the buildings, as tall as mountains. And she was happy, very happy, to have clean shoes.
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    Lorena’s heart trouble, which had been well managed with repose and inane conversation, took a turn for the worse. Jamilet, now seventeen, evaluated her own practicality in the face of her mother’s imminent death and it troubled her. She should have been devastated by the prospect of losing the person she loved most in the world, but her sadness was suspended somehow and hovering just out of her reach, and she was strengthened by a yearning she could not easily explain to herself or to anyone else.
    She’d become aware of it when she saw the mark for the first