Tarnished Beauty Read Free

on the ground. They reminded her of the way the wind swept the dirt up in the back field when she was tending the chili patch. She thought it looked like backward rain making its way up to heaven. Her grandmother, not easily distracted from her work, had actually straightened up to gaze upon the dark cloud rising as Jamilet told the story of the backward rain and how the dirt in the field had come to life when touched by the breath of God. She knew her grandmother was more likely to listen if she gave the story a religious slant, but she’d tell the children a different version they’d like better. She was thinking of how to begin when she realized the pebbles had become larger, palm-size rocks the wind couldn’t possibly have lifted. One smacked her soundly on the ankle, causing her to stumble.
    It was then that she heard her mother’s frantic call, and she saw the children lined up across the road, only a few hundred yards from the school grounds. Some held rocks in their hands, and others were hunched over, looking for more in the dirt. Lorena was running toward her with eyes that weren’t sad, but were alive with fear. Jamilet had begun running as well, eager for the safety of her mother’s embrace, when a deafening blow to her temple caused her arms to go limp. Before the darkness came, she felt the warm flow of blood in her ear, and heard a ringing so loud, she couldn’t be sure if the children were jeering or laughing, as they did when she watched them through the window.
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    When Jamilet opened her bleary eyes, the first thing she saw was her mother’s face, spongy with sadness once again, as she placed a cold compress on her daughter’s head. Then she heard Gabriela fussing in the kitchen, banging pots and pans like she was prone to do when complaining about the scant help she got from her daughters and only granddaughter with the chores around the house. Although on this afternoon the noise she made was for another reason altogether.
    Jamilet winced against the clatter, and reached a hand out for her mother. “Why did the children throw rocks at me, Mama?”
    Lorena gently guided Jamilet’s hand back down to the bed. “Quiet now. I only just stopped the bleeding.”
    Jamilet spoke up so her grandmother could hear her. “I was going to tell them the story of the backward rain, Abuela, but I never got a chance.”
    â€œIt’s a clever story, Jamilet,” she responded tersely as she dropped a large pot in the sink and another on top of it.
    Jamilet felt a piercing pain in her head, and held her breath until it had settled into a dull ache. She turned to her mother once more. “Why did they throw rocks at me, Mama?”
    Lorena placed her daughter’s hand on the compress and left the room without a word. She returned moments later carrying under one arm the mirror they kept in the front room, along with a smaller handheld mirror. She instructed her daughter to lie on her side, and pulled her nightdress up as high as it would go, positioning the larger mirror behind her.
    â€œBe careful what you do, Lorena,” Gabriela said, but Lorena didn’t hesitate as she gave Jamilet the small mirror, guiding it so that her daughter could see the full expanse of the mark. Jamilet peered into the mirror and thought she’d caught sight of the wound on her head. “Am I still bleeding?” she asked, alarmed.
    â€œIt isn’t blood,” Lorena said, forcing her voice to sound strong, as one does when imparting news of a family death. “You were born with the mark on your back, and the children must know about it. They don’t understand…” She hesitated, her voice trailing off, but she regained her composure. “The midwife who delivered you wasn’t discreet.”
    Carmen had slipped into the room, and was slathering butter on a fresh tortilla. “Discreet?” she said while stuffing the tortilla in her