Ben's Gran
I have gran charm, in fact, I have old woman charm. There are very few older women I can’t charm the socks off, is that the expressions grans use? Diedre isn’t one of them, you understand, but Grandma Clementine certainly was.
Ben and I went to visit her. Ben left me with her when he headed down to the supermarket to get her garbage bags.
I sat with gran on the cane furniture in the sun room with her.
“Are you and Ben?” gran asked.
“Are Ben and I what?” I asked.
“I hear stories, don’t think my daughter thinks I should know what’s going on, even if I don’t want to hear what comes out of her mouth.”
“Ben and I…”
“You and Ben.”
“Yes.”
“What about the AIDS?”
“We don’t have it, it is practically cured now, it is not something we have to worry about, not really.” And in that moment, I said those words and actually meant it. (Of course, that is not strictly true, but it is close enough to the truth) First time. It was a good feeling.
“So, Ben doesn’t have the AIDS.”
“No.”
“A boy like that?”
“A boy like what?” I was keen to hear this.
“It’s just that he is so good looking,” said Gran. “Wouldn’t a lot of people… um, other boys want to get together with him?”
“Huh?”
“For the sex,” she hissed because I made her say it.
“Ben doesn’t have AIDS, gran,” I said.
“And you don’t have the AIDS?” Ah, we had got to the real question, at last. She always worried about her favourite grandson, even if I do say so myself.
“No, gran, I don’t have the AIDS.”
“I don’t really understand what you boys do…”
“One night over a cup of coco I’ll tell you all the details…”
“Don’t be silly, I’ve lived a long life.” She smiled, her blue eyes twinkled. “I know very well what you boys do, what I don’t understand is why you’d do it without the condoms when it could kill you?”
“Well, it doesn’t kill us anymore, so you can stop wondering.”
“I’m very pleased about that, you know,” said Grandma. “You and Ben are very handsome together and I’d hate anything to happen to you.”
“I don’t think your daughter feels the same way,” I said. “Well, about me anyway.”
“Don’t you worry about that.” She reached up and cupped my cheek with her delicate little hand. “I like you. I like you a lot. You have a kind heart. What is your last name? I don’t know your last name?”
“Grant,” I said.
“Oh, like Carey?”
“Yes.”
“Now he was a looker.”
“Yes, he was.”
“I like you very much, Mr Grant.”
“Me?”
“Yes, of course you,” said Gran Clementine. “And I can see you make my grandson very happy. And that is all that matters in the end.”
Gran Clementine is 92.
Ben and I went to visit her. Ben left me with her when he headed down to the supermarket to get her garbage bags.
I sat with gran on the cane furniture in the sun room with her.
“Are you and Ben?” gran asked.
“Are Ben and I what?” I asked.
“I hear stories, don’t think my daughter thinks I should know what’s going on, even if I don’t want to hear what comes out of her mouth.”
“Ben and I…”
“You and Ben.”
“Yes.”
“What about the AIDS?”
“We don’t have it, it is practically cured now, it is not something we have to worry about, not really.” And in that moment, I said those words and actually meant it. (Of course, that is not strictly true, but it is close enough to the truth) First time. It was a good feeling.
“So, Ben doesn’t have the AIDS.”
“No.”
“A boy like that?”
“A boy like what?” I was keen to hear this.
“It’s just that he is so good looking,” said Gran. “Wouldn’t a lot of people… um, other boys want to get together with him?”
“Huh?”
“For the sex,” she hissed because I made her say it.
“Ben doesn’t have AIDS, gran,” I said.
“And you don’t have the AIDS?” Ah, we had got to the real question, at last. She always worried about her favourite grandson, even if I do say so myself.
“No, gran, I don’t have the AIDS.”
“I don’t really understand what you boys do…”
“One night over a cup of coco I’ll tell you all the details…”
“Don’t be silly, I’ve lived a long life.” She smiled, her blue eyes twinkled. “I know very well what you boys do, what I don’t understand is why you’d do it without the condoms when it could kill you?”
“Well, it doesn’t kill us anymore, so you can stop wondering.”
“I’m very pleased about that, you know,” said Grandma. “You and Ben are very handsome together and I’d hate anything to happen to you.”
“I don’t think your daughter feels the same way,” I said. “Well, about me anyway.”
“Don’t you worry about that.” She reached up and cupped my cheek with her delicate little hand. “I like you. I like you a lot. You have a kind heart. What is your last name? I don’t know your last name?”
“Grant,” I said.
“Oh, like Carey?”
“Yes.”
“Now he was a looker.”
“Yes, he was.”
“I like you very much, Mr Grant.”
“Me?”
“Yes, of course you,” said Gran Clementine. “And I can see you make my grandson very happy. And that is all that matters in the end.”
Gran Clementine is 92.
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