Total Write-Out!

Entry #7

The old grandma started hitting on me in the middle of the road. Like, seriously.

That morning, I was going for a jog. With a faded blue sweatshirt tucked into the waistband of my grey track-pants, I must have resembled a slob. I eyed myself in the long dressing mirror, grimacing at my unkempt pixie cut which made my hair appear as if I've got an electric shock. Snatching my dad's beaten down Cubs cap off the vanity table, I trapped my soft spiky black hair under the cap.

Much better, I noted proudly.

Satisfied, I bared my teeth in a smile. Just as I plugged my Walkman earbuds into my ear, I heard my mom calling me.

Her head peered around the country-style kitchen doorway.

"Natalie, could you do me a favor? Could you run down to the florist and purchase a pot full of Germanium? Your grandma called to say she was dropping by for a house visit and you know how iffy she gets about these type of things." I groaned theatrically, inciting my mom's glowering glare. She knows I don't like doing house errands.

She put both hands on her hips and eyed me seriously. "Natalie Morgan, you know full well how I hate it when you're acting lazy," she chided. Dad always joked that mom was like a Mama Bear when it came to her family. Unfortunately, that did not include us whom she thought of as extended family. That brought about dad's complaints that mom was the poster child for filial piety. This brought about a heated argument which I now know when to bolt from.

Finally, I relented with a sigh. "Fine, you win. I'll buy the blooming Germanium after I go for my jog."

Her face cleared like the clouds dispersing on a sunny day. "That's more like my daughter," mom cooed as she patted my shoulder. She beamed happily.

I made a rude unladylike sound at the back of my throat. Pinched eyebrows met my defiant stare.

I dragged my feet as I left our house for good measure. Mom clucked her tongue in disapproval as she looked out the kitchen window overlooking our porch.

I turned up the volume on my Walkman, setting off at a brisk jog. My shoes pounded heavily on the icy pavement to the beat of the furious rock music.

As I slowed to a walk near the Neill's florist, my gaze was drawn to a shock of white hair in the middle of the road.

Cars and vans careened along the sides of the road, where stood a hunched old lady in the middle. Her expression was that of a dazed surprise. A car narrowly missed her by a hairs breadth.

My heart thumped in pity and fear for the old grandma. She clearly was too stunned to make any move to cross the road.

Looking up and down the road, I deemed the empty road safe enough to cross. Reaching the old grandma, I tapped her shoulder.

"Er, ma'am. It's safe to cross now."

When she saw that it was me, her wrinkled cheeks lifted in a smile.

"Why, thank you young man. Aren't you a dapper charming gentleman," she cooed, pinching my pink cheeks. Young man? Gentleman? What on earth was she rambling about? My mind whirled as I simultaneously pondered over how to make her cross the road and her unusual words.

I hadn't realized she took my silence as consent.

"Aye? Coming to rescue a damsel in distress, ain't ya." The old lady fluttered her lashes coyly, pursing her purple lips. Overall this gave her a clownish look. I muffled a snort. A thought struck me like thunder. This old grandma thought I was a boy. Judging by the way my body was a little on the flat side and my androgynous facial features, anyone could have mistaken me for a young boy.

"Aww, no need to be shy," she cajoled like I'm a little kid which needs to be enticed with lollipop. Helplessness came in the form of an uncomfortable smile and sweaty hands. I grasped for something to say when I noticed it.

"Ma'am, in case you are unaware, we are currently in the middle of the road," I deadpanned. Confusion clouded her eyes. Her gaze travelled around the empty road before finally settling on me. Chagrin colored her wrinkled cheeks while her crow's feet deepened.

Taking advantage of her sudden surprise, I led her by the arm towards the front of Neill's Florist Shoppe. I mutely saluted her and turned away.

"Bye, young man. May we meet again," she called after my retreating back. It seems that she had finally regained her composure.

As I hunched my shoulders, I mused the possibility of ever meeting an eccentric old grandma like that again in my lifetime.

Fat chance, I snorted.

Lounging on the couch back at home, I could have sworn I heard the old grandma's voice in our hallway. Writing it off as a dream, I jerked awake as a bony finger poked my arm.

"Young man, we meet again," the old grandma gleefully remarked.