and it has often struck Daniel that Iris herselfmay have no idea that she is lovely to look at.Her dark hair is cut short, she wears no makeup, no jewelry, everything about her says,I’m plain, don’t bother looking at me.Maybe he has drifted into the periphery ofher life because somehow in the grand design ofthings—and this private, pulverizing love he feels makes him believe in grand designs—he is the man who must awaken her to her own beauty.Is there some casual, defused way he can say to her:Do you have an idea how lovely you are?

He wants to hold her in the moonlight.He wants to stroke her shoulder until she is fast asleep.

She is crouched next to Nelson, whispering something in his ear.He loves seeing her with her son, the intimacy ofit pierces him.She seems a perfect mother:calm, present, able to adore without consuming.Nel-son is a handsome boy, strong, bigger than most ofthe children in the day care, several shades lighter than his mother.There is something regal and disdainful in him.He has the air ofsomeone forced to live around peo-ple who don’t understand the full extent ofhis excellence.He nods im-patiently as his mother speaks to him, and when his eyes light upon Ruby he bolts and the two children greet each other wildly, almost in a bur-lesque ofhappiness, holding hands, jumping up and down.Iris heaves a sigh and stands up, shakes her head.

“Sorry about that,”Daniel says.

”Those two,”says Iris.

”It looked like you were giving him some last-minute instructions,”

Daniel says.

Iris looks around to make certain she will not be overheard.“There was a note in his cubby from Linda.It seems he hit one ofthe other chil-dren yesterday.”

“Oh well, these teachers have a way ofcatastrophizing everything.”

“I just don’t want the oneAfrican-American child in the whole school to be the one committing little acts ofviolence.”

She never refers to race around him, and Daniel wonders if her saying this now is a way ofinviting him in, or pushing him back.