Old love

  Grandma was preparing lunch. Grandpa had gone out with his buddy, best, our dog. Today was valentine and he had promised to take grandma to the cinema to see a movie. 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚝. They had a romantic life right from their teenage age. They had eloped from home. Grandpa had stolen enough money from his father's safe, together they had ran away from their families. Grandpa owned a shop down the street, on the corner right. He sold homemade wine and pizza. He was well known in the street. Him and grandma were called "𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕕𝕤" because they'd walk together, hands in hands, and smile to each other to the envy of the other people in the street. It had become an habit because they still do it till now, making me wonder if marriage life was not that boring as people do say it is. Infact if Grandpa was to go somewhere without grandma, she would get bored and bring out their wedding photo album and start going through it like she was doing now.

  They were both young. ‘I was barely eighteen and your grandmother was nineteen.’ Grandpa do say and as if to stress on the age difference he'd add, ‘In love, age is just a number and love is magical.’ Grandma would nod in agreement with it. They were the only one with the priest in the pictures, but they looked happy. They were both wearing oversized wedding cloths and that made me laugh, smile rather.

   The door squeaks as Grandpa enters. He had his right hand behind his back. Grandma rushes to greet him. She hugs him and he gave her the flowers he was hiding.

   “Happy valentine”

  “You are such a darling.” Grandma says and gives him a light kiss on the lips.

   “Welcome home grandpa” I greeted him.

   “Thanks...”

  He walks to the fridge and brings out a wine. He pours it into three glass cups, places it on a tray and brings it to us. He hands us a cup and sets the tray on the table. He sips from his and places the cup on the table.

 “Have I ever told you how I met your grandma?” Grandpa said. I smiled. This was the hundredth time I had heard the story. But he loved to tell it, there is a spark of light that shines from his eyes, a crooked smile that curves to the left side of his wrinkled fave anytime he tells that story. Each having a new version.

   He'd tell me how he and grandma attended the same college. Grandma was very wise, wiser than Solomon he'd say, making grandma blush. 

  ‘I was enchanted by her smile. Her dimples made my heart beat like a Cherokee drum. But I loved her more for her courage.’ Grandpa would say and caress her hair. Grandma was beautiful even till now. Her smile was like that of an angel.

  He told me how grandma rescued him when he was been bullied by his senior. Grandma had helped him by threatening to report to the school authority. From that day they had been friends, that later bloomed to them being lovers. He would not forget to add the ups and downs in their relationship. His father never approved the relationship because grandma was black, making me wonder if colour had to do with marriage.

   On several occasions his father would warn grandma to stay away from him and would flog grandpa for defiling his order by going to see grandma. He eloped with her and they got married four centuries ago. ‘I was barely eighteen’ Grandpa would say. ‘But I loved your grandmother and would not allow my father come in between us‘

    He taught me one or two things about love. If you love someone you'd stick to them and never let go. 

  So as he begins his story again I listened to gain something again from his new version of his love life.

    “I met my wife five centuries ago. We were just little. I was fourteen while she was fifteen. You see age is just a number and love is magical. We met.....”

   “In the church. Saint peters.” Grandma says then sip her own wine.

   “Was it saint peters or in the mall?” Grandpa asked.

   “But you told me it was in the school the other time.” I said, laughing at how easy he forgets his other version of his story.

   “What is important is that we love each other.” Grandpa says and stands up. “I will complete the story later. Me and my wife are going to the cinema to watch a movie.”

   Grandma stands up too. They both set out to leave. Grandpa stops midway,

  “I am going to give you an advise, get a girl, or a boy, don't remain a bachelor. Celibacy has no pleasure.” He says. They left.

   Here was two old people that had been married from their teenage days. They were a living proof that marriages work and not just what the divorced people would say. And so I decided to take my chances. I called Debra.

   “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” I asked.

   “Sure”

    “I will pick you up at your place.” I said and hung up, heaved a sigh of relief and got ready to pick her up. Like my grandparents, I decided that my relationship was going to last forever with Debra. 

    I took her to the cinema where Grandpa and Grandma were. We watched the film, it was just like that of my grandparents. I saw grandma weeping and Grandpa consoling her. Debra rested her head on my shoulder.

   After the movie was over, I knelt down and brought out a ring from my pocket. It was cheap not what I planned for but it came as a surprise to me too, I never knew I would be proposing to her too so don't blame me. Grandpa saw us and wolf whistled drawing the attention of people. They began clapping and shouting. Debra stood mouth agape in awe. She was really surprised.

  “Will you marry me?” I asked my voice quaking.

   “Yes I will!!!”

  I slipped the ring into her finger and hugged her. Grandpa seemed to be proud of me. The drop of tears seemed to say it. He pats me on the back. My eyes shone with that same spark of light that I saw in his eyes when he told me his story.