Generosity, part two

It was a bright November afternoon. Leta was living in an apartment in West Toledo, near the University. She had lived there for the two years after her husband Richard Eckman passed away. Spending so much time alone, she enjoyed visitors—her children and grandchildren, in particular. This time, her grandson Alan, a senior in high school, stopped by. She made a batch of raisin-filled cookies earlier that day, and he was the first to enjoy them.

Alan was a purposeful young man, so Leta knew that he wasn’t merely paying her a social visit. He wanted something. He was also a little awkward, so she waited for him to reveal the reason for his visit.

“I need to buy a car,” he told her. He was sitting at the kitchen table, having just devoured two of the cookies. She was standing with her back to him, fetching two more. When she turned to face him, he quickly turned away.

“I’m listening,” she said, sliding the plate with two more cookies toward him.

“I have an opportunity for a new job, to start in a couple of weeks,” he began. “But I don’t have no way to get there.”

“What car are you driving now?” she inquired.

“Ma’s,” he answered. She lets me borrow it, but I couldn’t every day. She needs it.”

“So you want one of your own,” she said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said. “This way I’ll be able to get back and forth to work without trouble anyone, and visit my friends and other stuff. I’ll be able to pay for the gas, insurance and upkeep from the money I make. I just don’t have the money to buy one.”

She crossed her arms. She did not mean to make her grandson squirm. In fact, he had become both earnest and nervous, neglecting the cookies she had just given him. This assured her that he was serious about his need.

“And pay you back,” he added. “That would be the first thing.”

“I am thinking you have a car in mind already?” she inquired.

“Yes,” he answered. “Dad has a friend at work who is trying to sell his. It’s a good car, needs a little work, but not much. A good price.”

“How much do you need?” she asked.

He swallowed hard. This would be the part he was most nervous about. The amount always was. She knew that from experience.

He told her and then waited for her response.

“I’ll be right back,” she said and left the room. Two minutes later, she returned and handed him a check in the full amount.

“Grandma?”

“You’ll need to pay me back, now,” she said. “This isn’t a gift. It’s a loan.”

“Yes, yes, of course!” he gasped, standing.

She stepped back before he could hug her.

“But this,” she said, reaching into her apron pocket and handing him a small roll of currency, “this is for you. Let’s call it gas money.”

“Grandma!” he cheered. Then he hugged her, “Thank you so much!”

She smiled lovingly and then grew firm. “I don’t want to hear that you used this money frivolously. It’s for gas or car repairs or whatever you need to keep up that car, do you hear me?”

“Oh yes!” he cried and hugged her again.

This is, she thought, how Grandma’s are supposed to be.