It so happened that he was raised by his grandmother, even though his mother was still alive.
That was how things turned out for Stanleyraised by his grandmother while his mother was very much alive. It must be said that his mother was wonderfulbeautiful and kind-hearted. But she worked as a singer with the Royal Philharmonic, so she was rarely home. Her frequent travels even led to a divorce from her husband, the boys father. So, Stanley was cared for only by his grandmother.
For as long as he could remember, whenever Stanley returned to his block of flats, he would always look up to the fourth floor and see the silhouette of his beloved grandmother waiting eagerly by the window. And when she saw him off somewhere, she would always wave from the window, and without fail, he would wave back.
But when Stanley turned twenty-five, his grandmother passed away. Now, coming home and no longer seeing that familiar figure in the window, he felt an indescribable sadness and emptiness. Even when his mother was home, Stanley felt alone. They hadnt spoken sincerely in years, had nothing in common, didnt even discuss everyday mattersas if they were strangers.
A few months after his grandmothers death, Stanley suddenly decided to move to another city. His profession was in high demandIT specialists were needed everywhere. Online, he found a promising company that offered a good salary and even covered rent. His mother was thrilled. After all, her son was grown now, and he had to find his own way, far from her.
From home, he took only his grandmothers favourite mug as a keepsake and a few clothes to start with. With a travel bag over his shoulder, he glanced one last time at the kitchen window but saw nothing. His mother didnt even come to wave goodbye. A taxi quickly took him to the train station, and soon he was lying on the top bunk of a sleeper carriage.
The next morning, the train arrived right on schedule. Stanley found the office where he was to work, checked in, and set out to choose a flat from the addresses hed found online. Navigating the unfamiliar city with his phone, he suddenly noticed a block of flats that looked strikingly like his own at home. All these post-war buildings looked similar, but something about this one felt differentperhaps because the window frames were painted the same peculiar shade of turquoise.
Without thinking, he strayed from his route and slowly approached the building. He just wanted to stand there and remember his grandmother. As he got closer, he instinctively looked up at the window where the kitchen should beand froze. His head spun at what he saw. On the fourth floor, behind the kitchen window, was the silhouette of his grandmother. He recognised her instantly, his heart leaping into his throat.
Stanley was a rational man and knew this was impossible. He quickly shut his eyes, turned away, and walked off. His mind told him it was just someone elses grandmother, but his heart whispered, *Stop! Its her!* And he listened. He stopped, turned back, and looked up again.
She was still there. Stanley couldnt take it. With his bag on his shoulder, he rushed into the building, up to the fourth floor. Just like at home, the lock on the stairwell door was broken, so he flew up the steps and rang the doorbell. A sleepy young woman in a dressing gown answered, staring at him in confusion.
“What do you want?” she asked sharply.
“Me?” Stanley faltered. “II need my grandmother.”
“Grandmother?” she repeated, baffled. Then she suddenly smiled and called into the flat, “Mum! Someones here for you!”
While her mother approached, the girl eyed this strange young man curiously. Stanleys head spun, and his heart felt like it might stop.
“Who was asking for me?” A woman in her fifties, also in a dressing gown, appeared in the doorway.
“Mum, you wont believe this,” the girl said, amused. “He just called you his grandmother.”
“Wait,” Stanley murmured. “I wasnt calling for *her*. IIt was in your window. In the kitchen. My grandmother was standing there. I *saw* her.”
“Are you on something?” the girl scoffed. “We dont have any grandmothers here! Its just me and Mum. Got it?”
“Right. Sorry. I must be confused.” Everything blurred before Stanleys eyes. He stepped back, set his bag down, and leaned against the wall to steady himself. “Sorry. Ill juststand here a moment and go.”
The girl began shutting the door, but her mother stopped her.
“Hey, lad,” the woman said, concerned. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he lied quietly. “Dont worry.”
“You look like your blood pressures through the roof. Face red as a beetroot. Come inside.” She quickly took his arm and led him into the flat, snapping orders at her daughter. “Vera, bring his bag in! And fetch the blood pressure monitor!”
Vera, wide-eyed, obeyed.
The woman sat Stanley down on the hallway bench and silently took his blood pressure. Then she barked more instructions at Vera.
“Get my bag. Ive got injections in there.” She turned back to Stanley. “Ill give you something to settle you, then well call an ambulance.”
“No ambulance!” he said, panicked. “Ive just come off the train. I dont even have a place yet”
“Listen to my mum!” Vera cut in. “Shes a doctor, understand?”
“Youre not from around here?” the woman asked.
Stanley just nodded weakly. Then he whispered, “Please, dont call anyone. I start work tomorrow. First day. I just got the job.”
“Quiet.” She was already injecting him. “Have you had episodes like this before?”
“No.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Any heart problems?”
“Im perfectly healthy.”
“Healthy? With a reading like this? 180 over 100 is no joke.”
“Maybe its nerves.”
“What nerves?”
“I *saw* my grandmother in your window. She was standing there, in the kitchen, looking at me.”
“Your grandmother?”
“Yes. But she died. Two months ago. Are there no grandmothers in this building?”
“Youre a strange one,” Vera chuckled. “I told you, its just me and Mum. But to put your mind at ease, Ill check the kitchen.”
Vera marched off, amusedthen let out a startled shriek.
“Mum! Whats this?” A moment later, she stood in the hallway holding a strange mug. “Where did this come from? Weve never had this at home!”
Stanley gave a weak smile. “Thatsthats my grandmothers mug. I *had* it. It should be in my bag. I took it as a keepsake.”
“Where *is* your bag?” the woman asked, confused.
“Right there.” He gestured to his travel bag by the door. “The mug should be inside.”
The three of them emptied the bagbut there was no second mug.
To this day, the family still cant explain what happened. Especially Veras mother, who, two months later, became Stanleys mother-in-law. Some mysteries, it seems, are never solved.
And so, life reminds ussometimes the heart sees what the eyes cannot.
