Memoir
Eileen Langan
A Persian Face
November, 2013
The woman in the Manhattan apartment a few floors beneath ours had two big Persian
cats she called Missy and Sissy. I visited her to see the Persians a few times after school,
even though my parents forbade me entering anyone’s apartment for any reason. This lady seemed different in her slacks, white socks, and loafers, and I smelled alcohol when she
opened her door. The only cats I had ever seen were a few wild alley cats scurrying away
as soon as I appeared in the basement. I was fascinated by these Persians with their big
blue eyes and fluffy long white fur, even though they, too, kept their distance from me. I
wanted so much to pick one up and hold it closely the way she did.
One cold winter night a Persian showed up on our fire escape and tapped on the window pane, which greatly alarmed my parents who looked as if they’d seen a monster. The
minute I saw that frightened face pressed against the pane, I knew it had to be Missy or
Sissy. I quickly opened the window and gathered the shivering bundle of fur into my
arms--before my parents had a chance to stop me.
“She belongs to the lady downstairs,” I yelled, running out the door. I wondered how
long the Persian had been out there in the cold trying to get our attention. I was thrilled
when she snuggled against me as I carried her downstairs. At the apartment door, I
knocked and waited. The door opened a crack, and the lady’s face filled with shock to
see me holding her Persian. “She was on our fire escape upstairs.” The Persian leaped into her open arms, the woman thanked me, and then they were gone.
Upstairs, my parents were sitting at the kitchen table, anxiously waiting to quiz me
about the lady downstairs, and about the times I had visited her--as if they expected a very
strange, spectacular story. Of course they didn’t know her, except for occasionally passing
one another in the stairwell. “She’s a very nice lady ... she knows I like cats.” I also told
them she had once given me a very special treat--her homemade ice cream. Horrified
again, my parents forbade me to have any more contact with her, or ever to put one foot
inside her apartment. I knew the woman was harmless, and just a bit lonely. I would have
loved to see Missy and Sissy again, but my parents had put a thorough scare into me.
I sat by our fire escape window many nights that year, hoping a Persian face would
appear.
Eileen Langan is a Wildwood resident and a member of the Writers' Workshop. Eileen is an active artist
with the Wildwood Art Club and displays her wildlife paintings in the Clubhouse. As a video editor in the
TV Productions Club, her name frequently appears in the credits of Channel 95 programs. You can Email
comments to the author at: [email protected].
File: 1113-M-Langan-PersianFace11-pdf
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