David Ray

A Beauty That Embarrasses

Tibor Telemans wife, for example, whom he holds by the elbow as she stands out in the busy traffic. Seeing them, Tibor holding her arm, protecting her from the eyes of other men, from the madness of traffic, I see him thinking: What am I doing with this still beautiful thing that demands so much attention? I used to be a young man. Now I am old and harassed, a librarian, and I just want to sink into a big comfy easy chair when I get home. That battle should be over, the apples and cabbages picked. Women looked down on us when we were boys. We saw then that they were gross flowers kept in opaque greenhouses, tended with gloved hands.