Dealing Flesh Read Free Page A

have some sort of power over me.
    I don’t remember when blushing first ambushed me. It likely started before I entered school. Regardless, I cannot shake the suspicion that Blushetta is here to stay, that there is nothing I can do to keep her at bay unless a miracle happens.
    Scaredy Cat: Maybe it’s just some stupid phase that will vanish as you get older.
    I hope so. From now on, I will study the faces of people much closer, eager to find the smallest bit of evidence of Blushetta in them. I barely come across anyone, but the times that I do, I rejoice.
    Blushetta: That’s nice, but I know they don’t have it as bad as I do. No way.
    Enviola: I wonder what makes the majority of folks so lucky to being spared this pestering fluke.
    Doubt Cloud: It’s so fucking unfair.
    To outsmart this nuisance, I discover that if I can pose a question to a person before they can, then I can keep Blushetta under wraps.
    Blushetta: It’s a start, but it only scratches the surface of my predicament. You must find a reliable antidote with lasting effect.
    Scaredy Cat: You have to. I can’t fathom having to walk on eggshells for the rest of my life trying to outsmart this hideous dilemma.
    Doubt Cloud: It’s like wearing a “Come disrespect me because I have no self-esteem” label on my forehead.
    In nature though, all my timidity vanishes. Being an avid climber, I can conquer tall trees. My favorite is the birch tree that reigns over the playground of the Middle School. My friend Susie and I creep up the strong branches this afternoon. Much to our surprise, we find an inviting, human-sized nest that must have been built by previous tree enthusiasts. It is constructed and secured in one of the branch forks, held together by several layers of sturdy twig bunches that are topped with leaves.
    Pretender Babe: Awww. I’m just gonna close my eyes and pretend I am with Tarzan in the jungle.
    Pristina: I would love to spend the night up here.
    ~~~

    This afternoon, a few neighborhood kids and I light a campfire near the shrubs of the public playground. We roast marshmallows and potatoes on sticks. Someone suggests playing “Indians hunting for squaws” where the boys entrap the girls and ultimately, tie their catch to a tree.
    I purposely make it easy for my favorite, Frank, to capture me. Now that he’s got me, he fastens the rope tightly around my wrists and binds me to the nearest trunk. This bondage game tickles me and even makes me forget all about Blushetta.
    The Newbie
    Somewhere around age seven, Mother introduces us to Otto, a tall slender man who is four years her junior. Unlike the bushy, curly head of hair that Dad carries, Otto’s dirty blond tresses hang straight down almost to his chin. He wears Beatles -style clothes, and his reddish mustache outlines his lips like a pointy-edged horseshoe.
    Within a few months, the two marry. I feel hollow, like my inner light has permanently turned off ever since that dreadful day that Dad bailed on us.
    Pristina: What concerns me is—why do people have to start new lives with other people?
    ~~~
    Early 1970’s
    Nearly a year has gone by since Otto entered our lives. He attains his engineering degree and with the hike in income, we immediately set course for a rustic farm in the relaxing backcountry of the Austrian Alps. Having calves tickle the top of my hand with their scratchy tongues, and grunting pigs nudge my fingers with their cute slimy round noses as I feed them potato peels, brings instant brightness to my grieving presence. Vicki and I spend some time amongst the tethered black-and-white mottled cows taking turns squirting milk into each other’s mouths straight from their udders.
    On the Feldweg, Sis and I encounter a snake. Petrified of its potential for being poisonous, one of us—I forget who—throws a brick on top of the serpent. Freaked out by the blood that splatters us, we escape the scene with shrill screams. Dust laden, speckled with red dots on various body