Making Henry Smile - Slice Of Life Stories #TehnazBahadurji

Oh Henry, what a marvellous Christmas this has turned out to be, and I never thought I'd say that again after you died. I'm sitting here alone in my old armchair in our quiet living room now, with only the mute television for company, but the quiet is filled with happy memories of a wonderful day and, in its own way, quite a wonderful year before it.    Now you know a lot of this, but not today's adventures, so I'm going to recap it all in sequence. It started, as you know, at the dentist's. My dentures were making an awful clacking old lady noise when I opened my mouth, and a lisping hissy sound when I spoke. It was driving me demented and I knew I was driving the poor dentist crazy, but I had to get rid of that noise or it would drive me to my grave. Not that I minded going there, since I'm just waiting to join you anyway. Now, don't scold, Henry, for when I said that to the dentist, it got him right fired up too. I was not to give up on life, and I was still healthy and strong and who knew what wonders awaited me? Hah! Anyhow, I was sitting in the lobby of that clinic way too often.     That's where I saw this young lad. He must have been having some laborious procedure too, because he was there just as often. What I noticed right away because it's so unusual nowadays, was that he was a reader. And he seemed to read all kinds of things. Detective or adventure fiction, and books on sports, as expected. But also photography, mythology, self help, travel, history and even biographies. He had this atrocious habit of shaking his leg, with the whole bench shaking and shuddering with him, and every so often, it caused his shoelace to unravel. He'd patiently re-tie it, over and over again. After I'd seen this dozens of times and not interfered, I lost the battle for self-control, and asked if he'd like to learn to tie it so it never opened of its own accord again. After the initial confusion at being approached in this nosey-parker fashion (no one can say I don't know my faults, Henry), he admitted it would be the answer to a prayer. That he'd tried many so-called fool-proof methods, none had worked, but he was always willing to try another. I told him about your ancestor in the Hungarian cavalry, Henry, of whom we knew only that he'd needed obedient shoelaces, and who'd sent down the generations this simple but absolutely reliable method of tying them. I taught it to him, and in a few attempts he had it pat, and we took it for a test run. The next few minutes were filled with a comradely tension as he shook his foot as usual, and we exchanged covert glances and silly grins every few seconds that the shoelace stayed tight and trim. Of course the gods conspired and I was called in for my session, having waited through countless shoelace unravellings unsummoned. He gave me a rueful grin as I went in, and I gave him a cheery wave. I was sure we'd meet again, and I would discover how this panned out.     I trudged off to get my clackety-clack sorted out, and on my way out, looked in at the reception to say thank you as always, when the girl at the counter stopped me. She said Paul had left me a message, which was intriguing since I had no idea who Paul was. The note said "IT WORKS!!!!! Thank you so much. I'm truly grateful. Paul." And there was a smiley face with very crooked teeth under his name. So of course I knew who Paul was then, and I thought it was very considerate of him, for all he was a teenager, and boys are usually at their very worst at that age.     The next time we met, he thanked me very properly and said the system had worked with all his shoes, and he was now a big fan of the Hungarian cavalry. We laughed at that, and he wondered if there was any truth in the family myth. Surely buckles were more military style. We should Google it, he said. And I said, I might, if I remembered the next time I was at the library. So he whipped out his cell phone and did it right there in the dentist's waiting room. And I said I wish I knew how to do clever things like that. And he said he could teach me, where was my phone, because it was no use teaching me on his. I was surprised, to put it mildly. Most teenagers avoid anyone except their own peer group, and here was this youngster casually volunteering to teach me. Well, the short version of the I said and he said and I did and he did, is that he downloaded some apps there and then, saying I was hopelessly behind the curve and there was no way he could get me to stat without them, so would it be ok? I gave him the nod, and in a short while he handed the phone back to me and started issuing directions step by step, until I'd pecked out the inquiry myself. Henry, I'm so sorry to tell you this, dear, they wore knee-high boots, with buckles and straps and a chain at the ankle. But no laces anywhere. I hid this from you earlier, I think, and I still feel traitorous. Either your ancestor was family fiction or his story was, but it doesn't matter, dear, because the knot works and that's the most important thing. Paul said we were now one all, since we'd each taught the other something useful. And it instantly became a game. From then on, we each came ready with ideas, and you know all about that because many's the time you've given me the ideas.     He showed me stuff with the cellphone mostly. I introduced him to subjects he didn't know existed. I talked of books and he talked of articles and research on the Net. I set him tests to investigate strange phenomena of the world and he reciprocated by asking me to book flights and hotels online as if I was actually going there. Best of all, he taught me to type with two thumbs, replacing my old and inefficient one finger hunt-and-peck. He liked to learn seemingly insignificant things, offering elders a shoulder instead of a hand at the steps for instance, or how to go through a door and then hold it open for a lady, much less red rag to the bull, even for feminists. He had a rollicking laugh when I told him the correct etiquette for steps was man second going up but first coming down, being there to break her fall if necessary. He said he didn't know too many ladies who fell down at the very prospect of steps, and I told him he was too young still, but the information would come in handy when he got to our age.     One day I realized that Paul had become a friend. Too young and so unlikely, but still a friend. And I started dreading the day the dentist got my dentures right. But one day Paul ups and says, Your speech is getting much better, Gertie, I don't think you're going to need many more sessions. Why don't we continue meeting at the library? Oh Henry, I must admit, I'd never thought of that. What would a teenager want with an old woman like me? So I asked him straight out. He said because it was fun for him to teach me things, I'd improved so much, and he enjoyed the stuff I was showing him too. It wasn't all one way traffic, he said. And that was so true, Henry. After you, I never thought I'd find another person with whom I could explore again. Paul knows lots of modern stuff but not much about the past. My knowledge goes the other way. We enjoy sharing our knowledge, but also making fresh discoveries together. I thought my chance for all that had died when you passed. Paul has made me mentally alive again.     I'd often spend the whole week thinking of what would interest him, with you helping me to come up with something unique, like when it's ok to start eating at a formal dinner. As soon as you're served, or after everyone is served? Of course, he told me that's all arcane nonsense, since no one has formal sit-down dinners anymore, but I know he likes stuff like that. I taught him all your fancy pocket square folding styles. He loved that, and he doesn't even own a pocket square, the silly boy. One day in early November, Paul interrupted himself and asked me what I was doing for Christmas. Would I like to come to his place for lunch? I was gobsmacked. We did not have that kind of relationship. I think my eyes misted up. No, I know my eyes misted up. Now don't go all old lady on me, Gertie, he scolded, and made me sidestepped the sentimentality. I checked if he had his mum's permission to invite me. He said he'd wanted to ask me first but it should be no problem - they often had friends for Christmas lunch. So I told him it would be wonderful but I'd only confirm after he had her ok. I chose my gifts carefully; you must remember, because we discussed it for ages. Chocolates for his mother, wine for his father, and a pretty scarf for his sister. For Paul himself, an online gift voucher. And a pocket square, though god knows he has no need of one. Before I met Paul, I wouldn't have known you could get online gift vouchers. But now I can navigate these sites like a pro, I have a separate credit card with a small credit limit and all the bells and whistles my personal coach has taught me, to keep myself safe online.     Now this is the new bit, Henry, so hush and listen carefully. All laden with gifts, I arrived at the house, having successfully Google-mapped my way. I was both excited and apprehensive to be out for lunch on Christmas Day, and to be meeting Paul's family. I put a smile in my heart and rang the doorbell. Paul's mother opened the door. She looked at me politely, but questioningly and blankly, and I struggled to hang on to that smile as it rushed out of my heart. I said, hello, you must be Paul's mother. I'm Gertie. It's so kind of you to invite me to……. But I must have stopped talking at some point, because her reaction was just so stunning. Her jaw actually dropped. She covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head and stared at me. She closed her eyes and opened them again and said, you're Gertie? And I said yes. I didn't know what else to say, Henry. Finally she said, oh god, how mannerless of me; please come in.     We entered the living room - no Paul in sight. His father jumped up from his chair and gave his wife a quizzical look. It was very disconcerting. Had Paul not got their permission to invite me? I'd never known him to fib. Yet, "Gertie" was obviously known to them, because when mum introduced me to dad as Gertie, he rearranged his face and came forward with his hand outstretched to welcome me. The sister, Irena, gave me the briefest of hellos and fled from the room, ostensibly to call Paul. He came at once, and introduced me to them all, naming me first as the elder and the lady, just as I'd taught him, and I marveled at how effortless he made it look.     As we all settled down, I decided to take the bull by the horns, and said I couldn't help noticing that they'd been shocked to see me. Paul turned hotly on his parents - You said I could invite Gertie, why were you shocked to see her? I did, Paul, you're right. It's just…. his mum trailed into silence. What, mum? Well, you know our other guests today, their daughter's Irena's age, so when you asked if you could invite your friend Gertie, we just assumed she was your age. Henry, I swear I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. I don't blame them. Who expects their teenage son to be friends with a seventy year old woman? It sounds so dirty. I know our friendship is completely innocent, and even I was revolted. Don't you dare laugh, Henry, you wicked man, it was mortifying.     Did you never tell them how old I was, Paul, I asked gently. No, he said, sounding a little baffled. It never struck me. I know you're older than me, Gertie, I'm not an ass, but your age simply never came up. Why should it? I don't understand what the big issue is, guys! I burst out laughing and crying at the same time, and there was a big fluster as tissues were rushed for, and Paul intoned sagely, now you're being an old lady, Gertie, which made me snort even louder. When we'd all settled down again, I vowed it was a splendid Christmas gift - not just that a teenager considered me his friend which is quite a special gift all by itself, but that he'd actually dismissed the age difference as inconsequential. His mum lightened the intense tone by telling me I was getting a Christmas gift appropriate for a teenager, since that's whom she'd been expecting, but I could always exchange it later. And I averring that of course I never would.    The rest of the afternoon was very normal. The food and chatter at the table was prodigious with everyone weighing in willy-nilly. Gifts were exchanged and I received a pretty cornflower blue watch with a huge big dial, all the rage with the youngsters nowadays,. But I'd learned a thing of two about age that afternoon, and I was determined to wear the strange thing and see if I could pull it off. Paul gave me a separate gift, a book about ancient architectural sites across the world, which seems fascinating. He loved my gifts too, and shook out the pocket square immediately, bundled it into an elegant bunch and stuffed it perfectly into his pocket, where it sat incongruously the rest of the afternoon. Who would have thought a teenager could be capable of such an elegant thank you! I left for home soon after that, determined not to outstay my welcome.    And that's why this is such a marvellous Christmas, Henry. All my memories of wonderful Christmases are only with you, and to that happy list I can now add this one too. And you must be smiling now, Henry, I'm sure of it. I always love to make you smile.

Streaming on YouTube