Every morning, I’d get up and before I would leave for work, I would water the plants on my second-floor balcony, except of course, during the winter months, when I’d bring them into the apartment. I always looked forward to the springtime, because the plants would be relegated to the confines of my small patio area and I enjoyed sitting around on my patio.
This was how I met Gladys. Gladys was eighty-one and a flirt. She saw me one day, watering my plants and she hollered up to me to say “hello.” I waved back at her and she waved back. Over a short period of several days, we exchanged waves, until one day she asked me to come downstairs because she needed some help moving a larger potted plant on her patio.
As I was moving the plant, I looked back at Gladys and asked her where she wanted the pot. She smiled and pointed to a corner of her small patio. The next morning, she asked me to come back downstairs. She wanted the same pot moved to a different corner. I was more than happy to oblige. This went on for a couple of more days until I asked Gladys what was going on.
“I’m eighty-one,” she said. “I wished I was twenty-one, because you have a nice tush.”
I liked Gladys. She was honestly refreshing and she made a great lasagna. Gladys told me her husband had passed away and I proffered my apologies.
“No need to apologize,” said Gladys, “He was an asshole. Why I stayed with him over fifty years is beyond me.”
I was stunned by Gladys' declaration. Gladys became the grandmother I never had, and I developed a great affection for her charm, her wit and her brutal honesty.
“I should fix you up with my granddaughter,” Gladys told me once. I thanked her for the offer, but I told her that I had a girlfriend. Gladys was unmoved.
“I’ve seen your girlfriend, and my granddaughter is much prettier,” Gladys declared. That was pure Gladys.
Then one day, after watering my plants, I peered over my balcony railing to see if Gladys was home. Instead of seeing Gladys, I found a very cute and young twenty-something-year-old girl. sitting on the patio, reading a book, sporting gym shorts and a way-too-tight t-shirt.
I watched her for a few minutes as she sat turning the pages of her book, which she had propped on her tanned legs. One of her hands rested on her thigh and after a few minutes, I saw her hand gravitate towards the inside of her thigh and close to her crotch. Her fingers slipped past the edges of her shorts and I stood in amazement as I watched her fingering herself.
Wow!
My cell phone rang, and my book reader peered up in my direction. I quickly answered the call and then I disconnected it as soon as I realized it was a stupid sales call. I peered back down to the patio, which was probably about twenty to thirty feet away.
To my surprise, she hadn’t changed positions. She withdrew her hand from under the edge of her shorts and proffered a lazy hand wave in my direction as she looked up at me. I nodded my head to acknowledge her gesture and then I quickly retreated to the safer confines of my patio.
I nervously peered back over my balcony railing and asked, “Where’s Gladys?”
I was stunned to find out that Gladys had passed away. I quickly withdrew to my patio in shock. Gladys was very special to me. We had bonded in an unexpected way. I gathered up some inner fortitude and peered back over my patio balcony.
“Are you related to Gladys?” I asked.
“Yes,” came the reply, “I am Joan, her granddaughter.”
I introduced myself and proffered a quick apology and condolences to Gladys’ granddaughter.
“My grandmother thought a lot about you,” Joan replied. “She said that if she were fifty years younger, that you and her would have made a wonderful couple.”
“Thanks,” I replied, “She said some great things about you as well.”
Joan closed her book and asked me to come downstairs. I wasn’t sure if I should, but then I remembered Gladys telling me, “Never look a gift horse in the mouth.” It was an age-old adage that carried a lot of meaning.
Joan met me at the front door to Gladys’ apartment. I was surprised to see the apartment completely redecorated and outfitted with different furniture.
Joan invited me in, and I followed her out to the patio. She pointed out a large potted plant in the corner and said that it was mine. I thanked her for the generous offer but told her that I couldn’t take it.
“She said you’d say that,” said Joan as she stood behind me, probably checking me out just as her grandmother had done several months before.
I looked back at Joan and asked if she was going to be sticking around.
“Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly, “I have to finish out the lease agreement for my grandma.”
As she spoke, Joan pulled at her taut nipples, which seemed to be pressing against her overtly undersized t-shirt. She didn’t make any effort to hide anything.
Damn.
“Your grandmother told me about you,” I said, “But she didn’t tell me you . . . “ I let my voice trail off.
“A hottie?” she replied, finishing off my unfinished sentence.
“Well, I wasn’t going to use that word, but it probably fits,” I replied.
“She said you had a cute tush,” Joan proffered. Now it was my turn to be embarrassed.
I chuckled.
“Yeah, she had a way with her words,” I replied.
“Yes, she did,” Joan replied. “I’ll miss her.”
“As will we all,” I replied.
Joan offered me a drink. I was more than happy to join her.
“I’ve got juice, tea, water, coffee, Coke and a bottle of tequila,” Joan replied.
“Tequila?” I asked. I liked the way she casually threw that in the mix.
“Sure,” she replied, turning and heading into the small kitchenette as I looked at her patio and all the plants on it.
A few seconds later and Joan sauntered out of the kitchenette with the bottle of tequila in one hand and two shot glasses in another. Our first toast was to Gladys. Joan downed her entire shot glass and then she quickly refilled it.