That day after work, I finally decided to drop by my grandpa’s place. I realized I hadn’t visited him in over a month. I felt so ashamed. I stopped by the store, bought a bottle of vodka and some salted sprats—Grandpa loves to snack on something salty with a hundred grams of vodka. But as soon as I entered the courtyard, his neighbor stopped me.
— Hello, Katie! You know, your grandpa has been acting very strangely lately. I’d even say, outrageously. — she said with a sly smile.
Darn it! Why does this old hag always ambush me? I can’t stand her!
— Barbara Winston, what happened? Please, tell me calmly.
— You’re a rare guest here, so you don’t notice anything. But I live next door and know everything. Oh, if your late grandma Lucy saw this, she’d be turning in her grave!
— Barbara Winston, don’t bring my grandma into this. Let her rest in peace, at least in the afterlife. And please, explain what’s going on?
— Your grandpa has organized… a dating club!
She’s lost her mind. My grandpa is well over 70. It’s been five years since he became a widower, and he lives quietly, occasionally meeting up with his friends, other retirees like himself. Of course, my grandpa has his quirks and oddities, but to start a dating club!
— You must be mistaken, — I looked at the neighbor with pity.
— My dear child, you’re too young and don’t know life. I’ve read those flyers posted on the poles near our building. Apparently, cultured older gentlemen are hosting evenings for lonely people. They invite elderly ladies over, offering their, shall we say, companionship. And the address and phone number of John Johnson are clearly listed. And he’s not alone! There’s a whole group of them! Steven Peterson from the second floor, Peter Johnson from apartment 10. And that other one, what’s his name… I can’t recall the name of the old man from the next entrance… — the neighbor rattled off. — These old geezers, it seems, want women in their twilight years!
Barbara Winston was seething with righteous indignation. Her angry rant shocked me, but I decided to get all the details before saying anything to this spiteful old woman.
— So what? Do ladies actually show up?
— The doors never stop swinging, — the old woman’s face twisted in obvious disgust or perhaps disguised envy. — Disgraceful! They’ve made a laughingstock of themselves.
— And why, exactly, does this bother you so much? Maybe you wanted to join their evenings, but they wouldn’t have you? Is that it, Barbara Winston? I wasn’t about to let this nasty old lady tear into my grandpa!
— Don’t you dare insult me! — the neighbor snapped, furious. — It’s clear: like grandpa, like granddaughter! — The old lady turned and stormed off.
— Nasty gossip, — I muttered under my breath and hurried upstairs. But at the door of Grandpa’s apartment, I ran into an elegant lady. I watched her leave in surprise and then stepped inside.
— Grandpa, it’s me. I ran into Barbara Winston, and she told me you’ve started a dating club here. — I called out from the hallway. — What a liar!
— This time, she didn’t lie, — Grandpa replied.
— What? But why do you need this?
— I’m always alone; you all only visit on holidays. My dear, it’s not a reproach— you have your own lives. But I’m not ready to kick the bucket just yet; I want to live a little longer. So, me and the guys decided to find some ladies of the heart. The experiment worked!
— And what’s next?
— And in the end, I’ll get married, — Grandpa sang cheerfully in his hoarse voice, to the tune of an old romance song.
— Wow, Grandpa, you’re something else! I’m proud of you.
— Just don’t tell your parents yet. They’ll come here to lecture me. And I haven’t even decided which of the three I like best!
No comments