Page 31 of Not My Problem

“What happened next?” I prompted.

“We confronted her, and your mother got very upset. She started throwing things, then she packed up her stuff and said she was leaving. The last thing she said was, ‘You’re both dead to me.’ We figured she’d be back once she cooled down, but that was the last time we saw her,” Grandma said sadly. “After your grandfather died, I hired a private investigator who gave me an address in Chicago. I sent her a letter letting her know what happened and asking her to call me, then another one a few months later, but I never heard from her.”

“We moved around a lot,” I said, not wanting to tell her that my mother had kept those letters for years without opening them. It would be too hurtful. “She wasn’t one to forward the mail, too easy for the bill collectors to track her down.”

My grandmother reached across the table to take my hands in hers. Her skin was soft and wrinkly, and I imagined that my hands would look like that someday.

“I just want you to know Zoe, if I’d had any idea that you existed, any at all, I would have fought like hell to get the chance to meet you and get to know you.”

I could have told her about how hard it was growing up with an unstable mother, how constant worrying about if we’d have enough to eat haunted me to this day, what it was like to realize my mother had finally drank herself to death like I always knew she would, but Grandma had been through enough.

“I’m here now,” I said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Gretchen

Zoe texted me later that night asking me to meet her on Jan’s front porch. I slipped on some shoes and headed over, finding her rocking on the swing that looked out onto the street.

She slowed the swing until I sat down next to her, then pushed off with her feet, sending us in motion.

“Is Jan asleep?” I asked. It was only ten-thirty, but she was an early riser who went to bed early.

“Yeah, I think her travels finally caught up with her. She was half asleep on the couch by nine-thirty and in bed by ten.”

“How’s it going with you guys so far?”

“Good. We talked about my mom, what happened when she left, and I told her a little about my childhood and my life in Chicago. The good parts anyway.”

“There’s probably no sense in torturing her with the bad stuff,” Gretchen said.

There was a tinge of sympathy in her voice. We’d shared enough about our childhoods for her to know why I didn’t want to burden Jan with any of it.

“But things with your mother weren’t all bad,” I reminded her. “Just like some of my foster placements were decent. It’s important to remember the good things in life, not just focus on the bad parts.”

“Yeah.” She brought her leg up on the swing between us and turned to face me. “I really like her, my grandmother. It’s just surreal to know she exists, and even more surreal to see how excited she is about meeting me. We lost so much time together.”

“She’s been lonely for a long time. She keeps busy with her friends and her volunteer work, but I know from personal experience that it doesn’t matter how much you fill time with other people, it’s still hard to come back to an empty house every day.”

We watched at each other in the dim light, then I shifted sideways and leaned forward to capture her lips with mine. We both stayed still for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes like we’d find the secrets of the universe there. Then the tip of Zoe’s tongue darted out, sliding against the seam of my lips, and she deepened the kiss.

Just like every time we kissed, things turned electric. We moved as close as we could, kissing and stroking each other’s backs until we either needed to stop or find the nearest bed. We stopped.

“I’m going to miss sleeping with you tonight,” Zoe said quietly.

I scooted back and turned to face the front again, moving away from temptation.

“Same here. It’s funny, I’ve been sleeping alone forever, but after having you in my bed the past week, it seems weird without you.”

We stayed out there on the rocker for another thirty minutes, sometimes talking but mostly swinging quietly, then I pressed a quick kiss to Zoe’s forehead and headed home to bed. Alone.

I thought about her the entire next day, wondering how things were going with Jan, what they were doing, how she was feeling. It took every bit of self-control for me to stay focused on my work and not keep checking my phone for texts from Zoe like some lovesick teenager.

“She was only at my place for two weeks but now my house seems empty without her,” I confessed to Rochelle at lunch. “I miss having her close.”

We’d walked a few blocks away from the office to eat at our favorite sushi place, which had the benefit of allowing us to talk privately without worrying about someone from work overhearing.

“She seems great, very smart,” Rochelle said. “And pretty. She reminds me of someone, but I can’t for the life of me remember who.”

“Julianna Margulies on ER?” I asked.