First thing, I love my Grandma; I think she is an amazing and fun lady. That doesn't mean she doesn't make for a great story.
A few years ago we had a death in the family; the funeral was taking place about 6 hours away. I don't recall what I had done but I ended up riding down with my Aunt C and Grandma D. The trip down went without a hitch; I should have known that meant bad things were coming.
We leave the funeral, are heading back home and stop for gas. G’ma was riding shotgun, I was in back, Aunt C gets out to pump and Grandma and I stay in the Jeep. Little did I know that Aunt C exiting the car was the GO signal.
Before I can say, “Let me out.” Grandma is stripping down in the front seat. At this point my brain and my body separate, I think I need to get out of the car, yet I don’t move. Instead I frantically look around the backseat for something that will help me. I’m not sure what I was looking for, possibly a time machine that would have gotten me out of the car before this began. I try desperately to pretend that I am not there, though I do give her points for being flexible enough to change into what I can only describe as a Cat Suit at her age. After she has it on, she politely asks me to zip it up.
For those of you not familiar with Cat Suits the zipper starts way down by the butt. I make mention of this for as I lean over the seat to zip her up, I have a perfect view of Grandma’s crack. I heroically swallow the bile that is rising and slam that zipper close. I lean back in the seat, pretending to not be traumatized. After gaining control of my gag reflex I mumbled something about getting a soda, mostly I just needed to get away. I wonder around aimlessly, prolonging the moment when I have to get back in the Jeep.
Slowly I get in, desperate to end this trip. I make a point to not look at Grandma, I’m wondering what I could have done so wrong. As we are pulling back onto the highway Grandma states “Hon, I forgot to throw this in my bag, can you put this in the back” without thinking I hold my hand out. I would have said that I was numb at this point, but I was wrong, so, so wrong. She places something black and lacy in my hand. I pull it towards me, curiosity making me go ‘what is this?’
Then I realized, it’s the underwear she was no longer wearing. I stared in horror as the fact that I was holding my Grandma’s underwear in my hand. I didn’t know if I should be impressed or horrified that they were black and lacy. I stared in horror and shock, my brain going to the place that all brains go with black lace panties, sex. Grandma sex. Finally my brain and body got on the same page. I threw them behind me, where I can only imagine my Aunt later found. I doubt she would have suspected Grandma of the underwear, and I apologize to any of my Cousins or my Uncle that may have gotten in trouble, but at that point self-preservation came first.
For the rest of the journey I sat huddled in the backseat. Unable to speak or cope with what just happened to me. Seeing my G’ma’s crack and holding her underwear was a little too much for one day. I took a hot shower and then drank some tequila, but nothing can erase the memories. I will forever know my Grandma has black lace underwear, that I touched them on the same day I saw her butt crack. There is no coming back from that.
