Chapter one or, How my grandmother got married. My grandfather died more than twenty years ago, when I was still a baby and I don’t remember him at all. So my grandmother — by the way, her name is Ella – was always single, occasionally meeting self-sufficient widowers. I have a reason to name them “self-sufficient,” because Ella herself is the true model of a successful mature woman. My grandmother founded her own business — a small, but quite profitable French restaurant in Manhattan and feels totally at ease there, among all these business sharks and Wall Street wolves.
My grandmother is a strong woman, however, this has its’ drawbacks. Her severe temper is one of them. She is hard to talk to and even harder to please, which causes many problems. For example, grandmother Ella had quite high expectations for her daughter — my mother. But her daughter disappointed her in every possible way, finalizing it by marrying a man who Ella could completely not stand. As a result, my mother and my grandmother have not talked to each other and have not seen each other for years. And the worst thing is that it completely suits both of them. As for my father… well, I totally understand why Ella doesn’t like him. He is an extremely passive pathetic person, and he showed even less interest in my life than my mother did.
With me, my grandmother is not as strict ... at least for now, so our relationship is pretty normal though I wouldn’t call it close. And it’s Ella who pays for my college... I’m twenty-two years old, I’m in my last year of studies, and I am only a step away from my diploma, so my grandmother’s financial support is very important — my parents can’t afford to pay for me. I understand that I am completely dependent on Ella in this matter, and it has brought me many sleepless nights and remorse.Soon you will understand why.
Well, now we reached the point where my story makes the first unexpected turn. By the time I received the unexpected wedding invitation, I hadn’t seen my grandmother for about six months and had no idea what was happening in her life. But I was very happy for her!
So I went to her wedding with great enthusiasm to congratulate her, even though she did not bother to invite my parents, which was, of course, awkward. The ceremony was closed and the following party was only for a very small circle of people, but everything was first-class, my grandmother wore an absolutely stunning dress which suited her to a tee. The only thing I was really curious about was that I did not see the groom. A handsome best man stood alone for a very long time, until Ella came right to him and ... it turned out that he was not the best man, but the groom!
Well, the problem was that he looked about thirty years old. My grandmother Ella is SIXTY. Not that I was conservative, but, damn it, Paul — his name was Paul, he was from Montreal, — he looked exactly like Ella’s son! A little later I found out that he was thirty-five years old, but this did not make a big difference. So, after I realized who the bridegroom was there, I watched the remaining ceremony in complete shock... later, however, I pulled myself together, and when I had the opportunity to speak to my grandmother in private, I gave her full support. Ella really appreciated it — I haven’t seen her so happy and relaxed for a long time. She took my hands, kissed my cheek, and said that she missed her granddaughter and that she wanted me to come to her restaurant more often. At the same time, I could get to know Paul better — he worked there as a chef.
And now chapter two of my story begins. It is about... no, I don’t want give you any spoilers...
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