Mia: Shaken Not Stirred

The true life stories of a NYC female.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

So much better than being called bitch

Over a year ago one of our neighbors in his 40’s died of cancer. Ed tried to help everyone he came across and spent much of his adult life doing good deeds. He was without a doubt one of the bright lights of the world.

The other day my parents and Ed’s widow Angie passed each other in the lobby. “Hey Willie, heyyyy precious how are you doing today?” They chatted for a few minutes before our cab arrived. My mom looked back at Angie and waved before getting into the cab… “Bye precious I’ll see you later!” Angie called out as she waved back to mom. Once they were in the cab mom looked at dad and said, “Honey I think Angie is going senile.” “What makes you say that?” My mom sighed and threw her hands up, “Every since Ed died every single time I see her she calls me precious. I think she’s forgotten my name.” My dad laughed and replied, “Na hun that’s not it. Ed used to call you precious. It was his nickname for you.” Mom’s eyes opened wide, “What? I never knew that. He always called me by my name.” “Well he used to call you precious behind your back. Every time I saw him he’d always ask me how was precious doing, or send my regards to precious.” “Wow I never knew. Why didn’t he call me that to my face?”

My dad laughed again and put his arm around my mother, “No offense babe but you’re kind of intimidating. Most likely he thought you’d take it as a sign of disrespect if he called you precious and rip his face off.” She looked out the window and thought about Ed for a minute. “You know Willie I really liked Ed. I even cried when his family called me to tell me he had died. Such a wonderful person.” My dad leaned his cheek against the ma’s head. “I know honey. Trust me he knew you were fond of him and he was just as fond of you.” Mom shrugged her shoulders and then added, “So he called me precious?” “Yup for about 18 years.” “Amazing. That’s so sweet and much better than being called bitch.”


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