Every Monday, I gather with Lucy, my friend of 55 years. This week, our peace was shattered when Lucy burst out, “I’m mad as hell! I found this rag at Barney’s apartment!” She waved a red silk shirt and headband.
I knew those clothes. They were my daughter Emily’s.
“Who wears this? A woman of easy virtue?” Lucy fumed. “I’ll get rid of her!”
I took a deep breath. “Lucy, you’re jumping to conclusions. You don’t even know who she is.”
“She doesn’t deserve my son. Period.”
That evening, I spoke to Emily. “Mom, I’m dating Barney,” she admitted. “We were worried about telling you and Lucy.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I assured her. The next day, Lucy asked for her usual dental discount. I looked her straight in the eye and said, “A woman of easy virtue doesn’t deserve to treat your teeth.”
Lucy’s face turned pale. “I… I’m so sorry, Eleanor. I didn’t know. I was wrong.”
“Think before you speak, Lucy. My daughter deserves respect.”
Lucy nodded, tears forming. “Please forgive me.”
“Let’s move forward with kindness and understanding.”
Our group resumed its usual chatter, but there was a new sense of respect in the air. Lucy had learned her lesson, and my daughter’s honor was restored.
