Off The Record
My Grandson Made Me Sleep On A Yoga Mat To Save Money—Less Than 24 Hours Later, Karma Taught Him A Lesson
I loved my grandson as if he were my own son, raised him from the moment of his birth, and gave him everything I had. I therefore assumed that his invitation to a weekend getaway was an expression of appreciation. As Karma prepared the lesson of his life, I never thought I’d wind up sleeping on the floor.
I thought I had seen every hardship in life at the age of 87. My face was numb for weeks after two strokes, wars, heartache, and losses. However, nothing could have prepared me for the youngster I had raised as my own son to betray me.
As you can see, I have been raising my grandson, Tyler, since the day he was born. My dear Marianne, his mother, passed away while giving birth to him. Daniel, his father and my son-in-law, vanished from our life because he was unable to cope with the loss.
He was living in a trailer park someplace in Nevada when I last heard from him.
I was the one who walked Tyler to his first day of kindergarten with his tiny backpack, which was nearly as big as he was, rocked him to sleep when he had colic, and fed him his bottles at two in the morning. Using my baker’s salary and eventually my pension, I gave him everything I could.
However, the boy I loved so much grew up to be a man I hardly recognize.
Tyler still resides under my roof at the age of thirty-two. He looks after me because it’s convenient for him, not because he should be a good grandson.
“Why should I waste money on rent when you have this big house, Grandma?” He claims that housing an adult man who doesn’t pay any bills is a luxury.
The fact that he had adopted a completely different character in recent years only made matters worse. He immersed himself in this purportedly spiritual way of living.
There were yoga mats spread out in my living room, where I used to watch my morning shows, books on chakras and rising vibrations strewn all over the coffee table, and meditation sessions at dawn that woke me up with his chanting.
He most likely appeared serene and educated to strangers. However, it always seemed to me like he was wearing a mask because I lived with him every day. His inability to find a stable job, his frequent justifications for not being able to help with food, and those dubious pals who came and went at all hours of the night, muttering about chances and investments, were all covered up by a show.
I was therefore quite taken aback when he approached me three weeks ago with a travel suggestion.
“Grandma, Willow and I want to take a little weekend getaway to Charleston, and we want you to come along,” he stated. “Just the three of us.”
His new lover was Willow, a sharp-boned woman in her late twenties with a voice that always sounded like she was singing a song that only she could hear and crystals dangling from her ears.
“Why would you want me tagging along?” Suspicious, I asked him.
He said, “Because I love you, Grandma,” with the same smile that made me smile when he was seven years old. Additionally, if we all travel together, the cost will be significantly lower. You know, split the costs? Make it accessible to all.
It was there. less expensive.
He really wanted me there for that reason. But I ignored that caution sign in my mind and said yes since I was so wanting to connect with him. I put the wonderful cardigan Marianne had given me years ago, my comfortable shoes, and my meds in my little luggage.
I hoped that this vacation would allow me to get back in touch with my grandson.
On a Friday afternoon, we took a car down to Charleston.
After four hours of driving, I anticipated that we would pull up to a hotel—possibly a simple but tidy one with a cozy bed. Rather, we arrived at a dilapidated apartment complex in a dubious area.
“This is where we’re staying?” I inquired.
Tyler said, “It belongs to one of my spiritual brothers,” while he took our luggage out of the trunk. “He’s allowing us to spend the weekend here. Much better than squandering cash on a business hotel, isn’t it?
The tiny apartment was not at all the comfortable retreat I had envisioned when I consented to this vacation; it was overflowing with crystals and incense burners. Even though my heart sunk, I remained silent.
“Just for the weekend, Grandma,” Tyler responded hastily after noticing my expression. “Hotels are a complete financial waste. You realize this is real? Real life.”
I saw that there were two bedrooms in the flat. Willow and Tyler took one right away, and when I peered through the doorway, I noticed a large bed in the middle and a smaller single bed that seemed ideal for me nestled away in the corner close to the window.
I felt a sense of relief. “Well, good to know that I have room in here. That small bed near the window is mine.”
Tyler’s face transformed in an instant. “No, Grandma. It won’t work. I need to protect Willow’s and my energy as we sleep. You know, the snoring, the stench, everything.”
I understood what he meant then. They didn’t want their romantic weekend to be ruined by an elderly woman. I was only there to assist divide the gas bill.
Rather than offer me the extra bed or even the couch I had seen in the living room, Tyler went to the closet in the hallway and took out a thin yoga mat that was only slightly thicker than a towel.
There, on the small hallway between the two bedrooms, on the hardwood floor, he unrolled it.
“This is yours. Grandma, you’ll be all right,” he added. “You have always been powerful. Additionally, sleeping on the floor is quite beneficial to your back. Additionally, staying grounded may even allow you to absorb some positive energy. It has to do with spirituality.”
Unable to comprehend what he had just said, I just gazed at him. This youngster had been raised by me since birth. I had sacrificed my comfort, my savings, and my health to give him my finest years. I was rewarded with being treated like unwanted baggage at the age of 87, despite having arthritis in both hips and a back that hurt on good days.
I didn’t argue, though.
What might I say without coming across as a burden? That night, I lay down on that mat. In the meantime, I could hear them whispering and laughing in the adjacent room.
I had a hard time getting out of bed the following morning. My back felt like it had been badly reconstructed after being fractured, and my hip cried in protest.
Tyler hardly noticed when I eventually used the wall as support to pull myself up. “Come on, Grandma, get ready,” he murmured, stretching and yawning. We are heading to a brunch. “My treat.”
However, it appears like fate had different ideas for Tyler that morning.
On the way to the restaurant, we made a stop at a petrol station. Tyler walked inside to get Willow and himself some coffee. I rubbed my sore hip while I waited in the car, wondering how I would make it through another night on that floor.
Then I noticed two men in dark suits crossing the parking lot with a purpose and making their way directly to the entrance.
They rushed to Tyler as soon as he emerged with two paper cups, removing badges that gleamed in the early morning light.
“Tyler?”
“Uh, yeah?” Tyler’s self-assured smile wavered.
“You’re under arrest for wire fraud and identity theft.”
They chained his hands behind his back and turned him around right there in the parking lot of the gas station. Brown liquid splattered on the concrete when the coffee cups dropped to the ground.
“WHAT?!” I let out a gasp and struggled to exit the car while fumbling with my seatbelt. “There must be some mistake!”
Tyler jerked his head in my direction. “Grandmother! Take action! Tell them I’m not guilty! Inform them.”
However, Tyler had been operating frauds for more than a year, and the officers were composed and professional as they explained this in measured tones. Fake investment possibilities, spiritual retreats that people paid thousands to attend but never materialized, and embezzlement of funds from trusting individuals are just a few examples.
What was the worst part, you know? He had been opening accounts and renting automobiles for his schemes using my name, my social security number, and my spotless credit.
My own grandson, whom I had loved, cared for, and nourished, had been using my name to defraud others.
Willow, too? After giving Tyler in handcuffs a quick glance, she picked up her luggage from the car and left without saying anything. As if she had been plotting her getaway all along, she simply vanished into a rideshare that appeared.
Everything became quite evident at that point. Tyler was neither an enlightened soul nor a spiritual guru. I had been too enamored with love to notice that he was nothing more than a self-centered, cunning man concealed behind crystals and meditation applications.
To answer inquiries and assist clean up the mess Tyler had made with my identity, they brought me to the police station. Officers questioned me about accounts I had never opened, transactions I had never done, and travels I had never gone while I sat in a little room with light green walls. A flurry of paperwork and credit bureau phone calls filled the hours.
They finally allowed me to see him after freezing all of the phony accounts. Tyler wore an orange jumpsuit and sat behind a plexiglass divider. I anticipated regret when I called him to speak with him. Rather, he grinned at me as if this were a small annoyance that would be resolved.
“Listen attentively, Grandma. They will be more lenient with me if you simply inform them that you gave me permission to use your name and credit. Drop some of the costs, perhaps. Simply state that you were aware of it and gave your approval. This is how much you owe me.”
My hand gripped the phone more tightly. “Owe you?”
“Yes! After all I’ve done for you,” he murmured. “Did I not give you free rent to live in your own home? I did not abandon you to rot away in some gloomy nursing facility. I looked after you. Grandma, you should be thankful. You ought to want to assist me right now.”
“You let me live in my own house?” I fired back at him. The home I purchased forty years ago with funds I earned while working as a bread baker at four in the morning? Do you believe you did me a favor by doing that?
He said, “I didn’t put you in a home,” once again.
“Tyler, you forced me to sleep on a floor-mounted yoga mat. You forced me to sleep on the floor at the age of 87 with arthritis and a poor back so you and your partner could preserve your valuable energy.” I inclined myself toward the glass. “Your mother was unable to raise you, so I did. All my life, when I should have been sleeping, I gave you my food when I was hungry, my money when I had bills to pay. And you treat me like trash and repay me with theft and lies?”
His smile vanished. “Grandma, wait—”
“No, Tyler. I have nothing to repay you. No more. Never again.”
I got to my feet, my legs trembling but my determination unwavering. I looked at the cop who was standing close. “Take care of him whatever you must. To aid him, I won’t lie. He must confront his actions.”
I felt totally depleted that night as I sat by myself in that police station, waiting for them to get me a ride home because Tyler had been my driver.
Then, however, an unforeseen event occurred.
A man in his early forties, one of the officers, kept staring at me as if he was attempting to identify my face. At last he walked slowly toward me. “Pardon me, ma’am. Are you Eleanor? You were the owner of the Main Street bakery once, correct?”
Confused, I nodded. “Yes, I was that person. It was a long time ago. When I turned 70, I closed it.”
Warmth and recognition filled his whole face. “I had that thought! Officer Daniels is who I am. When I was younger, my mother and I would visit your bakery. At times, we could only buy one cookie between the two of us because we didn’t have much money at the time.” His tone softened. “But if my mother wasn’t around, you would sneak me an additional one. I knew better than to believe you when you winked at me and said it was a day-old cookie that needed to be eaten. I will always remember that generosity.”
Before I could stop them, tears were streaming down my cheeks. I did recall, now that he brought it up. A shy-faced, scrawny little guy with patched trousers who is always very courteous and always says “thank you” three times.
Officer Daniels gave a soft smile. “Ma’am, don’t worry about going home. I’ll be the one to drive you. And I’ll see to it that you’re looked after.”
And that is just what he did. He replaced the loose lock on my front door that had been stuck for months, drove me all the way back to my house, and even carried my bag up the porch stairs despite my assurances that I could do it on my own. He gave me his card and instructed me to call him if I needed anything at all before he departed.
That night, as I sat in my beloved armchair, I imagined Tyler in that jail. Because he believed he was brighter than everyone else, he had turned away from family, kindness, and all that was good in the world. It had all turned away from him now.
And me? I had been reminded of something that, after caring for an unappreciative grandson for so many years, I had almost forgotten. Being kind doesn’t vanish into thin air. The instant you give it away, it doesn’t disappear. When you need it most, it comes back to you after waiting for years or even decades.
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