The Bump

Dot woke up to a bump dead on the center of her forehead, above her nose, where her eyebrows detached. She saw the bump when she brushed her teeth; mouth full of the sudsy menthol foam. She spat a wad of gooey paste onto the edge of the enamel bowl and rubbed her thumb on the lump. The bump was small, hard, and ached from the pressure of her touch. When she removed her hand, the bump was an angry red oval.

“Concealer,” she told herself. “Concealer can correct the problem and my day off can go on as planned.”

Dot blended the shade before she dabbed and smoothed her forehead clear.

“Gorgeous,” she announced to herself. Only a shrewd soul would see the mark.

She brushed her blond curls and pulled on her best blue jeans and blouse and started on her way out the door. She made a mental note of what she wanted to carry out; yoga would lead the day, followed by meal prep at the grocery store, maybe a nap, and then book club. She was the current month’s host and her house needed some overdue care to dust.

Dot pulled up to Ajna Yoga and parked her car; she collected her yoga mat and bag and entered the lobby.

“Welcome Dot,” Sysley greeted and flashed her pearly teeth. “Here for standard yoga today? Because we have a hot yoga course that starts today.”

“Who teaches the hot yoga course?”

“Arlo,” Sysley cocked an eyebrow as she let the name slowly escape her plump, overly glossed, mouth.

“Arlo? Arlo from Chakra Yoga, Arlo? The tall guy that has the enormous arms and huge chest?”

“That’s the one. He started today; he had an argument over the hours at Chakra and we were able to poach the stud.”

“Samantha won’t be bothered?”

“She understands… go… classroom four. Take one of our extra towels. Don’t be late,” Sysley’s eyes sparkled.

“You are always tuned to my frequency, lady.”

“Play your cards proper and you know who better be asked to be your Matron of Honor,” Sysley beamed.

Dot added a small bounce to her step as she found her way to classroom four. She found a spot near the front of the classroom and began to stretch. As she stretched, she felt the heat of the room surge and Arlo entered the room. The romance novel length of Arlo’s mane bounced and tossed around the sturdy shoulders that held them up.

The class started and the heat brought out her sweat. She drank from her water bottle and, between poses, she sponged at her breasts, underarms, and face. She pulled back from her face to see the concealer smeared across her towel. Dot’s heart began to flutter, her blood pumped harder, and her forehead began to ache.

“Now we complete our journey at savasana. For those that may be new, savasana may also be referenced as the corpse pose. Close your eyes, lay back, and breathe. Connect your soul to your psyche,” Arlo’s tone was smooth and warm.

Dot reached her hand up and felt the bump. The extreme heat had made her sweat off all of the concealer, but even worse than that the bump was larger. She couldn’t let Arlo see her. She slowly rolled onto her belly, came up on her knees, and gathered her gear. She left the room before anyone else could complete the savasana.

“Thank you, Sysley, put me down for Arlo’s next class?”

She ducked out before Sysley could press any other scandalous chatter from her. She wanted to check out her forehead solo, judgement free, on her phone’s camera.

Safely cocooned and secreted away Dot pulled open her camera and focused on her forehead. Just as she had expected, the cheap concealer had all washed off from her sweat and the bump (now larger) was clearly the most presentable feature on her face. She plundered the depths of her messy backseat, cast away empty take-out cartons and crumpled theater programs, and found a crocheted rose colored cap her grandmother had made for her last year. She tugged the cap over her forehead and tucked her curls around her ears. The cap featured pompom cat ears; she looked cute.

Once at the grocery store Dot pulled out the notes on what she needed to complete the meal for book club. She would need: potatoes, carrots, peas, tarragon, mustard seed, and an angel food cake for dessert. She located each component and carted them to the checkout; all throughout the store her forehead began to throb more and more. She struggled to overlook the concern.

Back at home she peeled and chopped, blended and greased, and heated the oven to start the bake. She set a clock for an hour and a half, just long enough to remove the bake before her book club members were set to show up.

There were never enough hours for a nap, but she would have enough of a free moment to check out the throb that had started to emanate across her face. She entered the bathroom and watched as her reflected face pulled back the hat just enough to see the bump beat along to the rhythm of her own heart.

“Ugh,” she moaned and sponged a cotton ball to the bump that had developed a sheen of sweat. The bump had grown larger and was soft to the touch.

Dot pulled her hand back as a lump under the bump rolled across the pad of her thumb. She slammed the hat back over her head at the same moment the doorbell rang.

“Who called for Merlot?!”

“Hello Lola, take off your shoes. The buffet starts when the last lady walks through the door!”

“Brennan was just on my heels. She brought another Merlot.”

“Are they screw cap or do you need the bottle opener?”

“Dot, you should know me better. Box or bust!”

When Marla parked herself on the comfy sofa, plate of food rested on her left leg, the women began to debate the book. Two women felt that there was not enough romance, two felt there was too much romance. Marla loved when the pastor set blaze to the nunnery and Brennan shed tears when the newlyweds plummeted from the bluffs to the rocky seabed below. Lola felt that the book was an elegy for jealousy. Dot could barely concentrate as she felt a creepy crawly sense of movement across the furrow of her brow. The thought made her want to scratch all over.

Dot wanted to scratch under her hat. She caught herself nervously tweak her hat one way and then another. She felt the damp drop of wetness sneak past the crumple of her forehead and down the flank of her nose. She slapped a hand across her face.

“Dot, are you okay?” Marla asked.

Dot stood up and excused herself, “Oh, uh, forgot to take my allergy tablets. Excuse me, keep up the debate!”

She felt safe as she locked the bathroom door and stared at her own face. Dot pulled the hat slowly off her head and let the strands of tangled curls free. She leaned closer to probe at the bump and as she pressed a clear serum gushed out around her knuckles. She tested the feel of the gooey substance between thumb and knuckle and when she looked back up to her face she saw that the bump had opened and out stared an eye. The eye sparkled and fluttered open and closed.

Dot clasped one hand over her forehead and another over her mouth to muzzle a scream. She stared back at herself and felt another lump pop up on her cheek. Then she felt another at her temple.

She let her hands drop and she looked closely at herself as another bump pressed outward from her collar bone, her breast, and her neck. She pulled up her pant legs to see bumps bulge out of her ankle, her calf, her knee. She fell to the floor and felt bumps on her ass cheeks. A lump formed at the base of her throat. The bumps reproduced, they grew, they gleamed, and they cracked. They oozed.

The eye watched.

THE END