Two months ago, I was at work when my phone rang. It was Mom.
“Elise, it’s Grandpa,” she said, her voice trembling. “He’s in the hospital. He—”
“Hospital?” I cut in, totally blindsided. “What happened?”
“He had a heart attack,” Mom said, barely holding it together. “We need to go see him.”
“Is he okay?” My stomach dropped.
“I don’t know, Elise…” Her voice broke.
“I’m coming now,” I said, shutting down my work computer in a rush after telling my boss about Grandpa’s condition.
Grandpa Toren is my rock, my best friend, the person I love most in the world—maybe even more than Mom, but that’s our little secret. That call turned my world upside down. My stomach knotted as I bolted out of the office.
The drive home is a blur—I don’t even recall how I got there. I picked up Mom, and we raced to the hospital, a 45-minute trip that felt like an eternity. Mom cried the whole way, while my heart pounded like it might burst.
At the hospital, a nurse told us Grandpa was in surgery. After what seemed like forever, the doctor came out. “The surgery went well, but he needs rest and care,” he said. “A heart-healthy diet—low salt, low fat. Gentle exercise. And no stress.”
“Got it, doc,” I said. “When can we see him?”
“Is he really okay?” Mom asked, her voice desperate.
“He’s resting comfortably,” the doctor assured us. “The nurses will let you know when you can visit.”
A few days later, Grandpa was sent home, but there was a catch. He lives in another town, too far for us to check on daily. So, we hired a full-time nurse who also agreed to cook for him. She was a blessing. For two months, Grandpa stayed in his apartment, focusing on recovery.
Last week, I realized I hadn’t seen him in too long. Over breakfast, I turned to Mom. “I’m visiting Grandpa this weekend. Wanna come?”
Her face brightened. “That’s a great idea, sweetie,” she said, smiling. “He’ll love seeing us.”
“Awesome!” I said, digging into my eggs.
On Saturday, I woke early, grabbed a bouquet of Grandpa’s favorite yellow sunflowers, and drove with Mom to his place. I couldn’t wait to see his grin, expecting a day of his funny stories, unaware of what awaited us.
Pulling into his apartment complex, I spotted Grandpa’s old car, covered in dust from sitting unused since he got sick. As we got closer, I saw something that made me furious. Someone had written on the rear windshield with their finger, the message fresh: “DIRTY PIG! CLEAN YOUR CAR OR LEAVE! SHAME! SHAME!”
I was livid. Who would be so cruel to an old man too sick to get out of bed, let alone wash his car?
“Oh my gosh,” Mom gasped. “Who would do this?”
“Some heartless jerk picking on a sick old man,” I said, fists clenched, my face burning with anger.
Mom touched my arm. “Calm down, Elise. Let’s not upset Grandpa.”
I took a deep breath, trying to cool off. “You’re right. Let’s go see him.”
We hurried to Grandpa’s apartment. When he opened the door, his face lit up with a huge smile. “My girls!” he said, pulling us into hugs. “What a treat!”
“Grandpa!” I hugged him tightly. “You look great! So handsome!”
“Of course!” he chuckled. “Even in a hospital gown, I was charming nurses left and right!”
Inside, we laughed and chatted, but that nasty message on his car kept nagging at me. I couldn’t shake it.
“Hey, I need to handle something quick,” I said, standing. “Mom, stay with Grandpa? I’ll be back soon.”
“Sure, sweetie,” Mom said.
I marched to the security office at the entrance, where a bored guard sat at the desk. “I need to see the parking lot camera footage,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t show that to just anyone, ma’am.”
I leaned in, voice low. “My grandpa lives here. He’s been really sick, and someone wrote a cruel message on his car. I need to know who.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, just this once.”
We scanned days of footage until I saw her—a snooty older woman strolling to Grandpa’s car, taking her time to write that awful message.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Nadia from 4C,” the guard said. “Always causing trouble.”
“There’s more,” he added as I turned to leave. “I overheard neighbors in the lobby last week. Nadia’s been harassing your grandpa for months—complaining about his newspaper left out, his doormat crooked, even trying to get him fined for a ‘wrong-colored’ potted plant.”
“Seriously?” I said, anger flaring. “Why hasn’t anyone stopped her?”
“Folks steer clear of her,” he shrugged. “Your grandpa’s too kind to make a fuss, but everyone’s sick of her attitude.”
Grandpa’s kind, but I’m not, I thought, storming to Nadia’s apartment.
When she opened the door, I didn’t hold back. “I’m Toren’s granddaughter,” I said, voice steady but furious. “I saw what you wrote on his car. You’ve got no right to shame him like that.”
She shrugged, smirking. “If he can’t meet our standards, maybe he shouldn’t live here.”
She slammed the door in my face.
I was fuming. Talking to her was useless, so I made a plan. All I needed was duct tape and proof.
The next day, I printed a screenshot of the security footage, Nadia’s face clear, and wrote in big, bold letters: “SHAME! SHAME! Nadia from 4C bullies sick elderly neighbors!” I taped it inside the elevator where everyone would see it.
By the next day, the building was buzzing. Neighbors ignored Nadia, and she became the talk of the complex—for all the wrong reasons.
When I visited Grandpa a few days later, I overheard two older ladies in the lobby. “Did you hear about Nadia?” one said. “Harassing poor Toren for months!”
“Disgusting,” the other said. “She’s sunk to a new low.”
I smiled to myself. Justice done.
Upstairs, Grandpa greeted me with a big hug. “Elise, my favorite visitor!” he said, grinning.
“Just keeping you in check, old man,” I teased. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like a saint, unlike some folks around here,” he said, leaning in. “Heard about Nadia? Someone put up a sign calling out her nonsense. Whole building’s turned on her. About time, if you ask me.”
I played dumb. “Oh? What happened?”
He winked, like he might’ve guessed. “Let’s just say she got what she deserved.”
Grandpa still doesn’t know it was me. That day taught me you can’t always be nice to people like Nadia who don’t respect others. Sometimes, you’ve got to fight back to protect the ones you love.
