The Bighead by Edward Lee Page A

Ms.,
uh, Jerrica,” he blathered and went back to his work.
    “ They guy’s a trip,”
Jerrica said to Charity. “He’s such a cliche.”
    Wait till you’ve been in
town for a week, Charity
thought.
    “ Well, anyway, thanks for
loaning me your deodorant. I’ll bring it right back.”
    “ Talk to you later,”
Charity offered.
    And then, for the last time, Charity’s
eyes fell on Jerrica as she walked out and closed the connecting
door between their two rooms.
    Charity didn’t falter. She
rushed to the mirror, skimmed off her clothes. What glinted back at
her was a body she hated. Her breasts were beginning to sag, her
navel sunk, and her nipples were ovaled, so much unlike the pert,
full, and perfectly round nipples of her riding companion. And I’m fat, she
condemned herself, though she really wasn’t. She had a
distinctive poshness under her skin, not fat at all, and well-formed feminine
curves too. But it was the sheer indefectibility of Jerrica Perry
that made her self-conscious. She couldn’t stop seeing it: that
tight abdomen; the sleek, muscled legs; a tight, full
buttocks. I should take better care of
myself, Charity knew.
    Her skin shone milk white,
all over. Her pubic patch remained untrimmed. She hadn’t nearly the
muscle tone of her friend, nor the beaming vitality. And her hair,
which she also positively hated, hung about her head in unruly,
chocolate curls. Being naturally curly, thanks to magazines such
as Cosmopolitan , Vogue and Elle, seemed like more of a curse…
    No wonder men never want
to go out with me more than once, she
considered her curse. Charity was a beautiful woman, but she’d
never realize that thanks to the brain-washing designs of a
cosmetic society.
    Her hand, then, very discretely,
brushed upward against the gentle furrow of her sex. A dull spark
shot off, and for a single second, her breasts felt tingly and
full. But then it all collapsed.
    Just like it always did.
    She showered quickly in cool water,
dressed even more quickly. Yes, it was wonderful to be back, but
what did that show her?
    More failure. More disappointment and
unfulfillment.
    Back on the veranda, she tried to
erase her self-condemnations. She gazed out onto the explosive beds
of flowers, inhaling their meld of scents. Coming home was just
what she needed, but, now, it seemed, it didn’t matter where she
went. She would always feel second-rate, inferior.
    An ugly
duckling…
    A sound swished at her
ears. She gazed harder. What is
that? she wondered. She was sure she’d
heard a sound.
    Then—
    Aunt Annie, she saw.
    Along the narrow aisle through the
flowers, her aunt walked, her arms cradled with flowers.
    Where is she going? Charity wondered.
    There would be, of course, no answer.
Eventually her aunt disappeared into the curtain of the woodline,
and disappeared.
     
     
    (II)
     
    Gawd! Goop Gooder thought. Dirt scuffed off in his hands as he
reeled in more hose, the sun on his back. His simple mind felt
light and airy with wonders; he’d just seen the blond city woman,
and with only her underwear on!
    Done reeling in the hose, Goop
scurried back into the house, carrying a bucket for some unknown
reason. At the very least, he knew he was a handyman, and he
figured that being seen with a bucket might make sense to an
onlooker. Ms. Annie, though, had already left, with fresh-picked
flowers, on her walk to the woods. It was something she did most
every day.
    And with Miss Annie out of the house,
Goop didn’t have to worry about getting caught, did he?
    He’d found it years ago, the loose
panel in the back of his closet. He closed his bedroom door, set
down the bucket. He couldn’t help it—he had to rub his crotch, and
when he did so he felt that undeniable ooze of pre-ejaculatory
fluid run up his pipe, because just seeing Miss Jerrica like that,
all soft and tan in those pretty girl undies of hers, that had him
hard in his pants in no time. He set back the sheetrock panel, then
entered the oblong, black