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My Best Bro Is A Grandma
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Hi, my name is Tom and I’m a really tough guy, you know. So this story is not one of the ones I’ve gotten used to telling. But it’s proof that some great stuff happens sometimes. And here is how it all played out.
Around a year ago I was hanging out with some friends when I got a strange Whatsapp message from an unknown number. It had an old lady’s selfie and it said “Hello.” I showed this to the guys and they said I should send a selfie back. I was in a great mood so did it. “Great smile!” — she answered — “But who is it, Jane? Your new boyfriend??” We laughed so hard at that and decided to send another message. “No, this is your new boyfriend, grandma” — we wrote.
Then there was a pause. Probably because she discovered that she had messed up numbers or was shocked at our obnoxious answer. After an hour or so while I was waiting for a burger, I ended up receiving lots of emojis and texts in an apology from her. She was going to invite her friend for dinner but was having difficulties with her new phone. I said that I would have been happy to be that friend because I had no doubt that her dinner was going to be much better than mine. She immediately sent crying smiles, a photo of a baked chicken, and her exact address. But it was just too much that day and I declined her invitation.
I didn’t understand it then but this was the start of our friendship. I knew that I could write to her and she would respond. Usually, we would send each other selfies or thumbs up. But the other day when I was hungry, out of money, and wandering around, she invited me to dinner [come to dinner] and I couldn’t say no. Teresa met me with a soulful smile and some pumpkin soup. Before that, I thought I hated any kind of pumpkin dish. She told me that she had been living alone since her husband’s death, but that she had lots of friends so she didn’t feel lonely. I told her that I was out of money because I was trying to save some up for a new skateboard. She told me that her grandson was going to visit her soon and that she would be very happy to introduce me to him because he was as crazy about skateboarding as I was. I told her that my parents worked long days and that I could spend my time however I wanted. She asked me if I could help her with choosing a present for her grandson. I, happy and full from a really awesome dinner, said sure.
She was going to give him a ukulele, but the guy I saw in the AC/DC t-shirt (he was like this in one of her photos) didn’t seem to be a huge country music fan. So Teresa and I took a walk through the city in search of something special. First, I thought it might be embarrassing to be seen just walking around with an old woman. Teresa somehow read my mind. “Oh, boy — she said — If you see your friends, I can pretend to be blind so you can help me cross the street.” She could’ve been offended by this but instead, she laughed. It was then that I understood how stupid I was.
That day we chose some really cool headphones for her grandson, powerful and stylish ones. She was so happy with this present that it was impossible not to envy him. But I was trying.
A few weeks later, I noticed that I hadn’t heard from her for a while. And she wasn’t answering her messages. So I went to her house. I found her listless and heartbroken. She said her grandson was not going to visit her: he had chosen to go off with his friends instead, for that vacation. She asked me to call her the next day or the next week because she was too sad to talk about girls and other stuff. So I went home feeling angry at the guy in the AC/DC t-shirt. How dare he make Teresa so sad? I didn’t want to leave things how they were.
So in half an hour, I was knocking at Teresa’s door again. I brought her my PlayStation and lots of ice cream (I heard girls like that when they’re sad). She was stunned when saw me with all this sadness-killing equipment. First, she wasn’t going to play, but then… we discovered [K.O.] that she was the real Mortal Kombat crusher! In a couple of hours she came back to life. I was very proud of that. I knew that I didn’t just help an unknown old lady, I helped my friend. We decided to make this a sort-of therapy session once a month. We named it the Fight-the-Sadness-Away Day.
My parents never even noticed me coming home late, and they didn’t know the address of Teresa’s house or that I had made such a strange friend. I’m telling you this because once, when I came to Teresa’s house with my PlayStation, I found her on the floor, incapacitated. I was shocked to tears, but somehow I managed to call an ambulance. They took her to the hospital. She was unconscious and I was just sitting in the hall waiting.
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