Page 3 of Not My Problem

We stared at each other for a few seconds, and the hostility faded into something that felt almost electric.

“Look, whoever you are, I’m glad to answer your questions but I haven’t eaten since this morning and I’m pretty sure my stomach acid is trying to dissolve me from the inside. Do you mind if I get a snack before we talk?”

When I just blinked at her, she opened the refrigerator again, sticking her head in and coming back out with a can of root beer and an unopened package of cheese. She opened the closest cabinet, glancing at the contents before moving onto the next one.

“Yes!”

I’d never seen anyone so happy to find saltines.

Grabbing a knife from the drawer, she skirted around me to sit at the kitchen table, immediately going to work opening the cheese. With a sigh I went to the cabinet and brought out a plate, then grabbed a paper towel for her to use as a napkin. She shoved a cracker with cheese into her mouth whole, chewing rapidly while I watched her like she was some weird animal at the zoo.

Neither of us said a word while she inhaled four crackers with cheese in record time. I couldn’t help but flash back to the days when I’d been that hungry. Zoe sucked down a long drink of root beer before turning her attention back to me. In the light I could see the resemblance to Jan. It was in the eyes and the facial structure, although Jan was more petite.

“Okay Gretchen Langley, who are you to my grandmother? And why are you in her house?”

“I live next door,” I said after a short debate with myself about whether I should answer. “We’re neighbors and friends. I’m watching Jan’s house for her while she’s gone.”

“She’s out of town?” Zoe frowned. “Damn it. I thought she was just out grocery shopping or something.”

“She’s in Europe for a month.”

She glanced down at the table, whispering “What am I going to do now?” so softly that I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to hear it.

“Are you in trouble or something?” I asked, surprised by how much I was drawn to this stranger.

She cut another slice of cheese and set it on top of a saltine before answering me. “Not exactly. But kind of.”

“Well, that explains everything.”

Zoe

“Well, that explains everything.”

I studied the woman across the table, my grandmother’s neighbor who was so protective of her. Or her house at least. I hoped Grandma was worth the loyalty, unlike my worthless waste of skin father that I’d recently tracked down. If I’d known how things would go down, I would have come here first when everything in my life went to hell.

There was something about Gretchen that caught my attention, even when she’d been brandishing that metal stick at me. I glanced over to where she’d leaned it against the wall behind her. Based on the coloring, I was pretty sure it was one of those Swiffer brooms, minus the bottom.

She was clearly tough as nails the way she’d come in here not knowing who I was or what I was doing. What if I’d had a gun or I was out of my mind on drugs? She could have gotten hurt.

Gretchen was older than me, but I couldn’t tell exactly how much. Eight years maybe? Ten? Her pale white face was smooth, but she had little lines at the corners of her icy blue eyes. She was beautiful, despite that stern expression. The purple hair seemed at odds with her conservative clothing though. What was the deal with that?

She was petite but muscular, which meant either she worked with her hands, or she worked hard to stay in shape. She pursed her lips, and I couldn’t help staring at them. They were full and naturally pink and… wait, was I attracted to this woman? I did not have time for this, not when my life was a total disaster.

Not to mention I didn’t fool around with uptight women. She was probably terrible in bed.

Gretchen shook her head, then got up to help herself to a bottle of water from the fridge. I used the reprieve to shove another cracker with cheese into my mouth. I was freaking starving.

“Start at the beginning,” she ordered when she returned to the table. “And make it fast before I call the cops.”

“I thought the cops were already on their way,” I said, reminding her of her earlier words.

Her wince was almost imperceptible. If I hadn’t been staring at her I would have missed it.

“Talk!”

I couldn’t say why, but I set down my cheese knife and proceeded to spill my guts to a total stranger.

“Growing up it was just me and my mom,” I started. “We lived in Chicago and, well things were hard sometimes. I know Mom did her best, but she struggled with her mental health and drank too much sometimes to compensate for it.”