Page 33 of Not My Problem

If I’d been worried that my grandmother would be weirded out by my relationship with Gretchen, it was a waste of energy. Jan seemed absolutely thrilled that we were dating.

“Are you a lesbian then Zoe, like Gretchen? Or are you bisexual?”

I shrugged. “I don’t like to label things, but I guess you could call me pansexual.”

At my grandmother’s confused look I explained, “I’m attracted to people based on things other than gender. I can’t quantify it, but sometimes I’m attracted to women, sometimes men or non-binary or gender fluid folks.”

Jan shook her head. “You young people and all these options... When I was your age we just had gay and straight. But look, I don’t care what you call yourself or what pronouns you want to use, you’re my granddaughter and I just want you to be happy. But the fact that you’re dating my favorite lesbian in the entire city of Seattle? I love that.”

I couldn’t help it. I flew off my chair and gave my grandmother a hug. She chuckled but hugged me back. “You’re the best, Grandma.”

Grandma sent my newly defined girlfriend a sly look. “I guess I’ll be seeing more of you then, Gretchen.”

“I guess you will.”

“And I guess you’ll want to split your time between my house and hers,” Grandma asked me.

I immediately worried that I’d offended her. “Oh no Grandma, my priority is you. I’m here for you.”

She patted me on the shoulder. “It’s okay, you can be here for me and still spend time with your girlfriend. It’s not a competition.”

After dinner Grandma brought out the playing cards and they taught me how to play Rummy, a card game they both liked. I did a game as my grandmother’s partner and then one with Gretchen before they declared me ready to do a round on my own. I hadn’t really played cards before, other than playing Uno with friends when I was a kid, but I found I really enjoyed it.

By the time we’d played a few rounds, my grandmother was yawning. Fake yawning.

“I’m going to go to bed now, girls.” She walked over to a drawer and returned with a key in her hand. “So you can get back in if you go over to Gretchen’s for a while. I’m sure you’d like some privacy.”

Was my grandmother encouraging me to leave the house to have sex? I was pretty sure she was and based on how wide Gretchen’s eyes were right now, she thought the same thing.

Grandma gave us each a hug then disappeared into her bedroom. A few minutes later I heard the TV turn on. I looked at Gretchen with amusement. “Shall we go to your place?”

Over the next month I fell into a routine. I was working two to three shifts a week at the shelter, covering for people on vacation or who called out sick. It was the best job I ever had. I loved helping people who were getting out of bad situations and, based on the feedback I received from our team lead Robbie and my boss Julia, they were very happy with my work. I’d also developed a good rapport with the shelter guests who soon learned that I was strict but fair and able to remain impartial and nonjudgemental when they talked to me about things.

When I wasn’t working during the day I’d help Grandma with things around the house. Sometimes we’d go out to see her friends or go hiking or just visit the tourist sites. My grandmother was super social and everywhere we went people seemed to know her.

I talked to Gretchen every day by text and saw her several times a week. Sometimes we’d go out on a date, sometimes we’d do something with my grandmother, sometimes we’d just hang out at her house. Whenever we were alone at her house we’d have sex, and somehow even though we had my grandmother’s blessing it almost felt like we were sneaking around, which added an element of excitement.

I missed waking up in Gretchen’s arms though. After a month of waking up alone, I decided to broach the subject with my grandmother one morning at breakfast.

“Hey Grandma, would it be okay if I slept over at Gretchen’s house tonight?”

Grandma laughed. “You’re an adult dear, you don’t need my permission.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. After all I’m staying here for free.”

I’d offered her money for rent multiple times and been rebuffed so I’d taken to doing things like picking up groceries and household items to help her out.

“We’re making up for lost time, you and I,” Grandma said. “Once you decide what you’re doing long-term we can figure out long-term living arrangements.”

It took me a second to realize she was talking about me going back to Chicago.

“I’m staying in Seattle,” I said. “Maybe I haven’t said that before, but there’s really nothing for me back home anyway.”

As we’d gotten more comfortable with each other I’d shared more about my childhood, how I’d been living like a squatter my whole adult life while I worked dead-end jobs for no money, and what happened when I met my biological father.

Grandma’s eyes lit up. “Well then, I’m thrilled to hear that. I was hoping you’d stay in Seattle.”

“I really like it here. Someone at the shelter is going on maternity leave, and my boss offered to give me her schedule,” I continued. “That means working full time for the next four months. My boss Julia promised if that works out she’ll move me into a permanent full-time position when something opens up.”