ABSTRACT
NELLIE: Well, Nellie, you still got it. Fifty years old and you still drive them crazy. So what if he was fat, bald and toothless. (She laughs a big laugh.) He's still got an . . . imagination (She pricks her finger on a thorn on the rose.) Ay chingado! (She sucks her finger. Looks up to God.) OK, OK. What happened to your sense of humor? I guess you think an old bag like me has no feelings anymore. Hey, I need my thrills too. You think cuz I'm old I don't need a little wink, a little smile, a little pinch on the butt? How else am I supposed to know I'm still alive. (She goes to the sink and runs water on her finger and notices it's deeper than she thought. To God.) Ya ni la friegas! (She dries it off. The phone rings. She answers it.) Hello? Oh, Hi Manny. (She reaches for the grocery bag and takes out a pack of cigarettes and a package of store-bought tortillas.) Of course I'm up. Are you? (She laughs her big laugh, then catches herselfand looks up.) Just
kidding. (To MANNY.) Of course I have coffee. (She picks up the package of tortillas.) And fresh homemade tortillas. {She tosses them on the counter and lights cigarette.) Yes, there are some of us that still make them by hand. Sure, come on over, I'll make you some breakfast. OK, Toodloo. (She hangs up. To herself.) Yes, Nellie, you still drive them crazy. And this one's not even a senior citizen yet. (She pulls open the package of tortillas and puts them in a dishcloth then into a basket and into the oven. She turns it on, then opens the fridge.) Let's see here. I think something simple but not ordinary. Something different. Something his wife never gives him. (She laughs.) We won't find that in the hielera will we. (She looks up.) Eh. You know I wouldn't do that with Manny . . . his stomach's too big. He'd have to be pretty enormous to get it past that pansota! (She laughs, then stops.) Hummm, maybe he is . . . Nah, his feet are too small. (She starts pulling things out of the fridge.) A v e r . . . I can make him some huevos rancheros o r . . . weenies con huevo. No, that was Louie's favorite breakfast . . . my Louie . . . (7b God.) I don't understand you. A big strong happy guy like my Louie. Never sick a day in his life. He comes home. He sits down to eat. "I don't feel good Nellie. My chest I think I'm coming down with a cold." "Go lie down viejo, I'll rub some Vicks on you." And when I'm rubbing, thinking what a strong chest it is. Big and brown with muscles and hair, he starts choking. "Help me Nellie." Then, "I love you b a b y . . . . " Then he's gone. Just like that. You took him without even thinking about how much I needed that man; how much I was gonna miss him. Without even caring that I belonged to him and that without him I don't belong. You really piss me off you know that!
