Pointing to the growth on his head to pacify all the curious stares, Tony states, “This here, that’s my little head complete with eye sockets and a bump for a nose, an imperfection or crease for a mouth, and…,” he pauses for a brief moment for effect,“…a mind of its own”.
Part of the problem is that people don’t want to look that closely to judge the accuracy of Tony’s description and his recent qualifying remarks do nothing but to bolster this stance, meaning that those he hoped to bring closer to understanding and acceptance are now standing further away.
Tony’s older brother Ricardo had a more compelling approach, but then again it was more of a daunting defense mechanism he’d crafted in response to the way in which especially bold bystanders ogled his wife at galas and charity auctions around town, often commenting on her relative beauty. “Exquisite” they’d say in feigned aristocratic voices, kissing their manicured fingertips as if having just eaten the finest pasta dish in existence.
“Ah…,” he’d respond in a diplomatic tone, thoughtfully touching his own chin partially out of spite and to dirty her image in the eyes of others, “…but you have not yet seen the large hairy birthmark on her right foot”. Abrupt reactions are spurred by this comment which is just what he wants, a quality that Tony has always admired and tried to emulate.
“Yes…,” Ricardo knows the phrase ‘large hairy birthmark’ evokes shock, “…it is almost as if this dainty foot that you imagine started life as a hoof and eventually grew to a human form but not before leaving its livestock print on my heart”.
To Tony’s recurring astonishment, those who are bold enough to do so rarely comment more than once on the relative beauty of Ricardo’s wife, fearing that he has the power to transform animals into women, or that she may be related to a family of spiteful Minotaurs.
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