The Bighead by Edward Lee

announced. “I was just
about to take a shower when I realized I forgot my deodorant! Do
you have any I can borrow?”
    “ Uh, sure,” Charity said,
and quickly rummaged through her suitcase for her can of Dry Care
spray. The sudden vision shook her: Jerrica’s physique covered so
scantily. White-lace panties and bra, nearly see-through. Charity
tried to act normal but it was hard. Jerrica stood casually in her
underthings, long sleek legs rising to give shape to a physique of
well-defined, feminine curves. And she was so tan, every inch of exposed skin a
shiny, deep nut-brown, which offered a sharp contrast to the
linen-white orbs of her breasts. Dark-pink nipples easily showed
through the lace, and so did the puffing tuft of dark, blond hair
at her pubis. And the white-blond hair on her head only furthered
the contrast; like glossing silk, the color of bleached straw, it
hung straight to her shoulders. She’s
beautiful, Charity thought. Certainly it
wasn’t any erotic appreciation by which she appraised Jerrica
Perry. It was, instead, a diversion of observations: envy and
objective surveyance. Maybe some jealousy too. God, I wish I looked like her, Charity pined to herself.
    “ You…wow. You have a nice
tan,” was the only thing Charity could summon to say.
    “ Thanks,” Jerrica offered.
“It ain’t the sun, believe me. I go to a tanning salon in Bowie
three times a week, year round. But…Christ, Charity.” Jerrica,
then, casually as everything else about her, touched Charity’s
shoulder, pushing aside very slightly the bra strap showing beneath
her summer dress. “You look like you haven’t been in the sun in
years.”
    “ I—well, I haven’t,
really.”
    “ That’s what we can do
while we’re here!” Jerrica excitedly exclaimed, her eyes
brightening. “Tomorrow we can go out back and do some
sunbathing.”
    The idea seemed alien to Charity, and
she remained thoroughly distracted by Jerrica’s close-to-naked
body. “Uh, well, okay. That would be nice.” Charity, sheepishly
then, handed Jerrica the deodorant.
    “ Oh, wow! Check this out!”
Jerrica was exclaiming again. That’s when she’d noticed the open
french doors to Charity’s veranda. She marched out and gazed in
astonishment over the heavy wood rail.
    Charity followed her. “Aunt Annie
loves flowers. That’s why the back yard’s full of them. It’s funny,
how well I remember it all.”
    Jerrica’s sheerly
brassiered breasts compressed as she leaned on the rail, peering
out. “The only flowers I see in the city are fake.” As she leaned
further, though, Charity couldn’t keep her eyes off the perfectly
formed rump. More envy, more jealousy. Seeing her companion like
this only made Charity feel more inept and dissociated. Maybe if I had a body like hers, she surmised, men would
call me back…
    “ She’s always loved
flowers,” she roused from her secret muse. Suddenly, and quite
unexpectedly, she felt misted with sweat. “When I was little,
before the state took me, I’d wander around the garden for hours,
every day during the summer.”
    “ I don’t blame y—” Jerrica
began, then halted. She pointed over the rail. “Hey, isn’t that
Goop?”
    Charity hadn’t noticed. But, yes, back
by the compost shed, there he stood, a huge flesh-sculpture in
overalls. Goop Gooder, her aunt’s handyman. He was staring up at
the veranda. “That’s him all right. And it looks like you’ve got a
secret admirer.”
    The moment Goop saw that they’d
noticed him, he jerked around, went back to reeling up watering
hoses.
    “ He’s kind of, well—”
Jerrica paused. “He’s cute.”
    Goop Gooder! Charity couldn’t believe it. He’s a hick! But, again, she couldn’t
prevent her eyes from side-glancing up the sleek slope of Jerrica’s
legs and back.
    “ Hi, Goop!” Jerrica fairly
shouted, and waved. Her barely covered breasts
swayed— more jealousy on Charity’s part—and her smile beamed
down.
    “ Uh-uh-uh, hi there,