Having started a job
that takes up quite a lot of my time, I find that Mother must occupy herself at
certain times during the week. On a recent occasion, I had instructed Mother to
shut down her computer and cease working at a normal hour whilst I was at my
job. Believe it or not, I succeeded and - upon leaving my shift this particular
evening - I received a text that read:
"Hello darling, I
am having a lovely evening and I shall be having a glass of wine
at the bar opposite the marina if you'd like to join me?"
Interesting.
"Lovely evening". I am not used to such messages. Spending 3 years
living in what might be described as a garbage disposal, I frequently received
text messages such as:
"HELP! I am in
the shopping mall .... what a
mistake! I have got to get out of
here! Full of fat, red-faced, Northern slobs."
So, as you can
imagine, the positive message this time was a pleasant surprise.
Leaving work, I made
my way to the bar. The sun had set and I could see only a silhouette of a woman
sitting outside. It could only be Mother; outside in the freezing temperatures
of January. Determined to "be outside and at one with the ocean".
I greet Mother. She
gives a forced smile and nods ungracefully at her glass of wine in her hand.
Ah, she does not like it. We have found another wine that has not quite reached
Mother's standards of vineyard productions. She also waves her finger in the
air, indicating to the music coming from the speakers. Ah, she does not like
this either.
"Listen. Listen
to this! Honestly, darling, five minutes ago it was a delight! They were
playing fab British music. I was very happy singing along to Justin Timberlake
but all of a sudden that arrogant owner
changed it all to this Spanish romping music! Listen to this rubbish! I mean,
it's all the bloody same isn't it? Uno,
dos, tres and all that! I should have been a DJ. They could have employed me to
do the music. I would have done a much better job. Come on, this isn't 'me'
anymore, darling."
With that, we leave
this bar and head towards a more 'classy' scene closer to home. May I suggest that
you bear in mind I had just finished working with noisy, hyper-active 8 year
olds and certainly would have preferred not to go on a bar crawl.
As soon as we push
open the heavy, wooden double doors to the 'classy' bar, Mother spins around
dramatically and says;
"Aha! Much more
'me' darling, don't you see? Of course you do. This is much more upper-class -
look at everyone, darling."
We take a seat and
order drinks. You won't believe me but Mother entrusted her waitress to choose
the brand of whiskey she should have (?!). Very comfortable indeed, apparently.
Whilst waiting for our drinks, Mother
gushes over how much more suited she is to a place like this, full of potential
aristocrats.
About an hour later,
we are in deep conversation when a man approaches us. I look up to see a little
old man, hands grasped to the back of an armchair, leaning over to speak to
Mother. I quietly observe the situation - letting the gentleman ramble
something to Mother in Spanish whilst Mother looks back and forth from me to
him, utterly perplexed.
I realise that the
point has come where I must intervene. I bend his attention around to me, with
difficulty, so that I am able to explain that Mother (still) knows zero
Spanish. She doesn't have a clue what you've said. Sadly I have instantly
volunteered myself to be the translator, again.
"Ah - this is
your Mother?" The gentleman says in Spanish.
"Yes."
"So
beautiful."
"Yes."
"What is her
name?"
"Mother - do you
want me to tell this man your name?"
"Uhhh... what?
Uhhh.... Hola! I am Stephanie!" Mother juts her hand
out urgently towards the gentleman's protruding stomach and the gentleman takes
it and kisses it.
For God's sake I am
stuck in between a potential flirting situation. Mortifying.
"Does she have a
partner? Is she married? Boyfriend?" The man asks me.
"Do you want me
to tell him your relationship status?"
"Uhhhhmmmmmmm.........................
ye-- ..... I don't .... ok....?"
"She doesn't have
a partner." I bleakly reply to the man.
"Oh! A beautiful
lady like her, no partner? Can I take her to dance?"
Jesus.
"He wants to take
you out dancing. What shall I tell him?"
"Oh! Haha!"
Mother awkwardly laughs and pretends to be flattered (note: she is revolted, I
can tell). "Ha, uhmmm, well ..... I mean ..... when?"
"When?" I reply
to the gentleman.
"Saturday night!
Here, at this bar! We can dance together" The man demonstrates a feeble
and swift jig of his hips.
I try to keep a
straight face.
"He says here.
Saturday night."
"OH NO I can't
Saturday night what a shame!" Mother is a fabulous actress.
"Oh no, she can't
Saturday night. Shame." I translate back to him.
"Ah okay well
.... maybe I can take her for lunch one day?" Bless him, he is punching
way above his weight.
I continue the
translation duty.
Mother reaches in her
purse and pulls out her business card.
"Tell him to send
me a message.... it is easier. Tell him I'm a very busy person. Texting is
better?"
"Right, maybe
send her a text?" I suggest to Jose.
N.B. I do not know (remember) his name but it's
probably going to be Jose. Safe assumption.
"Does she have
WhatsApp?"
"Yes, she does.
Ok.... see you later! Good evening...!" I make an attempt to end this
encounter.
He does not want to
leave just yet. Although - awkwardly - he cannot conjure up another topic of
discussion, so he is just standing there, with his arms resting on the chair,
staring at Mother wistfully.
This is creepy. He is
a grandpa. As we all know; Mother hunts for the prey of 20-30 year olds. Grandpa
has not caught his prey tonight. Bless him, silly man.
Eventually he starts
leaving. At this point, Mother becomes more enthusiastic; smiling greater and
waving more aggressively. She believes that this translates to;
"THIS IS ME
FEELING ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT YOU LEAVING, YAY!"
When actually it is
received as;
"THIS IS ME
FEELING ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT YOU'RE DATE PROPOSALS, YAY!"
I know this because
for the last two weeks Mother has been inundated with missed calls and text
messages from Grandpa. He is very excited to take her out dancing. She is very
insistent that I create a polite 'decline'
message. Of which I shall indeed do. Of course. Soon. I promise.
xoxo
