Page 9 of Not My Problem

Our eyes met and held for a long moment, and everything inside me seemed to quiet. I wondered if Gretchen felt the invisible pull between us the way I did. If she did, she didn’t say anything, she just gave me a nod and left the house.

Gretchen

Had Zoe and I just had a moment in the kitchen? I was pretty sure we did. As I drove to the dry cleaner I thought about her face when I mentioned the possibility that she had dyslexia. It was like a light bulb going off over her head. I’d seen shock, relief, and understanding cross her face in quick succession.

It made me angry that no one had helped her when she was in school. I understood from my own experience what it was like to transfer from school to school, never settling in one place for too long. Maybe it was just that the schools back in Portland were better at dealing with transfers than where she’d been, but I’d been evaluated and tested at every new school I’d attended. If I’d had a learning disability it definitely would have been uncovered along the way.

I wondered what happened that Zoe’s mom was estranged from Jan. The Jan I knew was warm and generous and loving, but I also understood that mother daughter relationships were sometimes fraught, especially during adolescence. I’d seen some huge battles between my foster parents and their natural kids. I felt bad for my friend missing out on all those years with her granddaughter though.

I had a feeling that Jan would have been good for Zoe. She still would be I guess, when she got back from Europe. Her granddaughter was complex. She had a hard exterior shell, no doubt developed through years of a rough life, but there was a sad vulnerability beneath it that made my heart ache.

We were a lot alike, Zoe and me. The difference was that she’d never had a Miranda, someone who held out hope for her when she didn’t feel it herself.

Thinking about my former case worker made me resolve to drop her an email and check in. We’d kept in touch after I went away to school. A few years ago she met up with an old college friend at a meditation retreat and they’d fallen in love. Now she lived on Bainbridge Island with her wife and their baby. I was incredibly happy for her. We got together a couple of times a year to catch up with each other.

When I got home from my errands I found Zoe asleep on the couch, an old episode of some comedy on the TV screen. She looked young and peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep. But she startled awake as I closed the door, her instincts honed to watch for danger even in sleep.

“Hey,” she said sleepily. “Let me help you with those.”

We worked together to put away the groceries then I sat at the dining room table and woke up my laptop. There wasn’t a reply from Jan yet, so I did a few other things I’d normally do on a Saturday like pay my bills online and check for messages I needed to respond to. By the time I was finished Zoe was asleep on the couch again.

I smiled. Either she was exhausted or she was one of those people who had to be moving or they’d fall asleep, I wasn’t sure which.

Not wanting to succumb to a nap myself, no matter how tempting it was, I changed into workout clothes and headed downstairs to the basement. It ran the length of the house, with one side holding the laundry area and furnace and the other my makeshift home gym. I put a load of laundry into the washing machine as long as I was down there. I started with some stretching, loosening up my muscles, then I turned on some music and hopped on the elliptical to get some cardio in.

When I went away to college I’d learned to be disciplined and organized as a way to keep chaos out of my life. Part of that was working out at least five days a week, whether I felt like it or not. I was lifting weights when Zoe wandered down the stairs, looking rumpled.

“Oh hey Gretchen, I heard the music, but I wasn’t sure if it was okay to come down here.”

“No problem,” I said, starting a round of biceps curls. “Did you have a good nap?”

Zoe’s eyes were fixed on my arms. They were nicely defined, thanks to my regular weight work, and covered in tattoos on both sides. Most of my original tattoos had been crappy street artwork, but over the years I’d had them redone by a professional artist who turned them into something beautiful. It had been a lot of time and money, but worth the investment. My tattoos were a metaphor for my life.

“I don’t know why I’m so sleepy,” she said, stretching her arms overhead. The movement made her shirt lift up, revealing an inch of pale belly. I looked away.

“Maybe you feel safe enough to sleep here,” I suggested.

She looked thoughtful. “Maybe I do.”

That thought pleased me for some reason.

“Do you do any weight lifting?” I asked.

I was pretty sure she didn’t. She was thin, too thin, the kind of thin that came from not being totally sure where your next meal was coming from. As far as I could tell, she had very little muscle tone. She needed to gain weight and get strong.

She’s not your problem, I reminded myself. You’re not her case worker.

Right now it was hard to separate my attraction for her from my concern, which probably wasn’t fair. Zoe was a grown adult, responsible for herself. Sure, she’d had a rough start in life, and so did other people. The true measure of her character was what she did about it. Then again, her life seemed like a bit of a trainwreck, so maybe she needed some help after all.

“No, I’ve never lifted weights or done any kind of workouts, but I’d like to learn,” she replied. “I’ve always been scrappy, but I’d love to feel strong.”

“I’d be glad to teach you some things while you’re here,” I said, then immediately regretted it.

She was here to visit her grandmother, not lift weights with me. Then again, Jan wouldn’t be back for a couple of weeks, so we’d have plenty of time to hang out. Assuming she was going to stay here until Jan’s return. Then again, if she left she’d just be going next door, so we could still hang out. If she wanted to, that is.

“I’d like that.”

She paused, gave me a searching look, then exhaled. “This is kind of weird for me, is it weird for you?”