Michael had always been self-conscious about his knees. The mere thought of having them out in public sent a shiver down his spine. 

But he loved his girlfriend, Nicky, and she wanted to go to the beach. The only thing Michael hated more than his knees was standing out in a crowd, so he had one choice. 

“Just so you know, I’m not having fun,” Michael said, applying sunscreen to his exceptionally pale legs.  The red shorts with flamingos on them were a gift from Nicky, way back when they first started dating. 

“It’s okay, just relax,” Nicky offered supportively. “Nobody’s looking at your legs.” 

Even if they were, they’d be blinded. How does he not have a vitamin D deficiency? she thought.  

“Besides, I love your knees,” she added. “They’re one of my favourite things about you.”  

Michael glared at her from behind his sunnies. “You’re just saying that.” 

Nicky wasn’t just saying that; she really did love Michael’s knees. They reminded her of the faces babies made when they cried. They were adorable. She knew she wasn’t going to convince him, though, so she changed the subject. 

“Check that guy out,” she said, jutting her chin at a man who was walking along the shore.  

Walking was a generous assessment of how the man was moving. His knees were more than shoulder-width apart, and his forward momentum appeared to come from an overexaggerated hip pivot rather than leg drive. 

“Poor dude looks like he’s been riding a horse for days,” Michael observed. 

At that moment, the man abruptly twisted in their direction. He made his way onto the soft sand, which further complicated his movement. 

“I think he’s coming this way,” said Nicky. 

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” replied Michael, frantically looking for something to cover his exposed kneecaps. When nothing came to hand, he covered his entire lower half with sand and packed it down, like a kid pretending to be a mermaid. 

“Hey there,” Nicky said when the man came to an ungainly stop a few metres away. “Are you alright?” 

“It’s me knees,” the man responded in a cartoonish drawl. “They ain’t what they once were, the ol’ gals.” He paused for a second. “I’m a little self-conscious ‘bout ‘em, to tell you the truth.” 

Nicky smiled at Michael, who was doing his best to avoid participating in the conversation. “I know nothing I say will change the way you feel about yourself, but you’ve got nothing to be self-conscious about. You’ve got great kne – Oh my God, Michael, look!” 

The man had a distinct birthmark, just above his right patella. It was two overlapping circles. The bottom one was long and elliptical. The ends curved up at the ends, like a skateboard. The one above it looked like a regular circle, except the middle was dented in. It was roughly the size of a ten-cent coin. 

Nicky always joked it looked like a cowboy hat.  

Because Michael had an identical birthmark, in exactly the same spot. 

“You know, lady, hollerin’ out in surprise while lookin’ straight at me knees ain’t good for the ol’ confidence.” 

“I’m so sorry, it’s just…” Nicky started whacking Michael excitedly on the shoulder. “Michael, show him.” 

“No!” Michael cried, further burrowing into the sand. “You’re being really insensitive right now.” 

Nicky changed tact, trying to sweep the sand away from Michael’s legs. He tried batting her hands away, but Nicky was insistent. “Michael,” she demanded, “show this nice man your knees, right now!” 

“Ma’am, please leave that boy alone. Son, you ain’t gotta do nothin’ you ain’t comfortable with. I know what it’s like, havin’ cripplin’ genuphobia.” 

Michael and Nicky looked at him blankly. 

“It’s the fear of knees,” he said. “And it’s insultin’ y’all didn’t think I’d know that. Anyway, the point is we all got somethin’ we get jumpier than a cat on a hot tin roof ‘bout. It’s the human condition. The cure is bein’ kind to one another. Just remember that,” he said, hobbling off.  

Michael watched the man limp off into the sunset. “Well, that was weird.” 

Nicky had her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you sometimes. We meet a man in his mid-fifties, maybe early sixties, who looks exactly like you. He’s got a birth mark that’s identical to yours, in the exact same location as yours. He’s the only other person, perhaps on the planet, who’s self-conscious about his knees. You were adopted when you were a child, and you’ve been looking for your birth father for years. How are you missing this?” 

Michael looked off into the distance, but the man had disappeared. A single tear rolled down his cheek. 

“Papa?”