The Prince of Tides

by Pat Conroy

Her voice was colder when she answered. “Why do you want to be attractive to me, Tom? I don’t see how that could help either your sister or you.” “There’s nothing to be alarmed about, Dr. Lowenstein,” I groaned. “I did not say what I was trying to say very well. Jesus God, I apologize. I see I’ve activated every one of the feminist warning flags flapping in your central nervous system. I only wanted you to like me because you’re a bright and beautiful woman. I haven’t felt attractive in a very long time, Lowenstein.” Again, there was a softening, and I watched her mouth relax as she said, “Neither have I, Tom.” Looking at her, I was astonished to realize that she was speaking a painful truth. There was a large mirror behind the bar and I saw the two of us reflected as languorous images beneath the shining cocktail glasses.. “Do you see yourself in that mirror, Dr. Lowenstein?” I said. “Yes,” she said, turning away from me and looking toward the bar. “That’s not an attractive face, Dr. Lowenstein,” I said, rising to leave. “By any measure or by any standard in the world, that is a beautiful face. It’s been a pleasure staring at it for the last couple of weeks.” “My husband doesn’t find me very attractive,” she said. “It’s nice of you to say that.”