9. Zoe
Zoe
Istared at Gretchen, processing her words.
Was I dyslexic? I’d heard the term before but never known what it meant.
If other people had this problem why hadn’t anyone told me before?
Then again, I didn’t talk about it very often.
My mother knew, but I don’t think I’d said anything to anyone else about why reading was hard for me. I just let them think I was an idiot.
I was surprised that I’d shared it with Gretchen. I barely knew the woman, but for some reason I was comfortable telling her anything. It wasn’t like me. Not at all. Usually I was a vault, keeping my feelings to myself.
“I’m sure there are some YouTube videos about dyslexia you could watch to see if it sounds like what you experience,” she continued. “I mean, if you wanted to learn more about it.”
“Yeah, I would.”
I took a bite of my croissant, eyes closing with pleasure. This was a damned good croissant, way better than any of the ones I’d had in the various restaurants I’d worked.
“How old are you anyway?” Gretchen asked, the stern expression returning.
“Twenty-eight. You?”
“Thirty-six.”
We were both quiet for a couple of minutes before I spoke up again. “Since we’re sharing life stories and all, tell me about yourself.”
It felt like we were on a date, I realized. Or at least the kinds of dates I saw on TV and in the movies. I wasn’t big on dating. I’d never even had a relationship. It was easier to stick with hook-ups. I’d meet someone I was attracted to, we’d spend a night or two together, then we’d move on.
“I grew up in Portland, with a single mom just like you. I was nine when my mom died,” she answered.
“I didn’t have any other family, so I went into foster care, which was challenging.
At that age you’re too old to be adopted – everyone wants to adopt babies -- so you just move from placement to placement until you turn eighteen and age out of the system. ”
I didn’t need to ask her if it’d been hard on her. She’d said as much last night when she threatened to take me down. Also I’d had a few neighbors over the years who’d been foster parents, and it had been evident they’d been in it for the money, not to take care of the kids.
“My mom always wanted me to make something of myself when I got older, but I went through a wild child phase when I was a teenager. When my last foster family kicked me out after my eighteenth birthday because the state wasn’t paying them to take care of me anymore I ended up homeless, like a lot of former foster care kids. ”
Her eyes clouded up for a minute like the memories were too hard, then she blinked and her expression evened out.
“I lived on the streets in Portland for about a year. I smoked a lot of pot and got a lot of tattoos, shoplifting and pickpocketing to support myself. But then a case worker at the homeless youth drop-in center took an interest in me. Her name was Miranda and she told me I could be more, that I could go to college and be successful. She kept telling me that until I started to believe it myself.”
She smiled and for a second my breath stuttered in my chest. It was the first time I’d seen her smile.
“Miranda changed my life. She helped me apply for colleges. I’d gotten good grades in high school despite moving around so much and I tested well on the SATs, so I was offered a full ride to go to the University of Washington. I graduated with a degree in finance and accounting.”
“You work in finance then?”
“I’m the chief financial officer at a local nonprofit that helps homeless families and other low income populations,” she said proudly. “It’s my dream job.”
“That sounds nice.”
I could hear the wistfulness in my voice, and I could tell from the look Gretchen sent my way that she did too.
I wondered what it would be like to have a dream job instead of a job where drunken assholes pinched your ass when you walked by with a tray full of cocktails.
Maybe if I could figure out this dyslexia thing I could think about a career change.
“I sent your grandmother an email last night,” she said, changing the subject. “She told me before she left that she’s going to be checking email once a day, so I expect I’ll hear back later today or tomorrow.”
“You said she’s in Europe?”
“Yeah she’s doing some kind of silver singles cruise from the sounds of it. She’s due back in a little more than two weeks.”
“What’s Jan like?”
I’d talked to her on the phone twice. The first time was when I called her to break the news about my mother’s death and let her know about me.
The second was after I sent her documentation of who I was.
My grandmother was clearly still mentally fit.
She’d been sure I was a scammer until she saw the proof for herself.
Then she’d been so excited to see me that I’d been uncomfortable, afraid to disappoint her, and embarrassed that I couldn’t afford a ticket, so I’d declined her invitation to visit, even when she offered to send me a ticket.
Yesterday I would have told you that I regretted that, and I guess I still did, but coming now the way I had gave me a chance to spend time with Gretchen.
Hopefully, we would spend even more time together.
Yesterday I thought she was an uptight bitch, someone I’d never like, but today I was seeing a different side of her. A side I liked a lot.
“Jan is awesome,” she told me. “We’ve been neighbors for a while now and we look out for each other.
She’s super active and outgoing, everyone she meets is her friend.
I guess her husband died about twenty years ago and as she says, she’s been playing the field ever since.
She’s always complaining about how terrible the dating pool is at her age.
I keep offering to fix her up with one of my lesbian friends but she’s like…
” Gretchen changed her voice in an imitation of my grandmother, “I like outties Gretchen not innies.”
I burst out laughing. “Well at least you tried.”
“Listen I have to run some errands today…”
“You don’t have to entertain me,” I said quickly. “I can uh… get out of here for a while if you want to leave. I know you probably don’t want some rando to be alone in your house while you’re gone.”
She studied me for at least thirty seconds before answering.
“You can stay here if you want,” she finally said. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t.”
The truth was I was exhausted after my mad dash across the country on the bus. I’d slept well last night, but with the time difference between Seattle and Chicago I’d woken up early, my stomach gnawing with hunger. Now that I’d eaten I could easily go back to sleep.
“Okay I’m going to get dressed and head out. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Do you want anything from the grocery store while I’m there?”
“No thanks,” I answered quickly, mentally calculating how much money I had left.
“Any food allergies?” she pressed.
“Food allergies are for people who have the money to be particular about what they eat,” I said, parroting something my mother always said.
Gretchen raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. She got up to take her plate to the sink, grabbing mine as well.
“Leave those, I’ll do the dishes,” I said quickly. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Okay. Do you need anything before I leave?”
“I wonder if it would be okay to use your computer? I don’t have a smart phone or anything and I’d like to look for some of those videos you suggested.”
“I can lend you my iPad,” she said.
I wondered if she thought I’d hack into something on her computer, or if she just figured an iPad would be easier for me to manage.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
I rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher, then cleaned the pan in the sink. By the time I was finished Gretchen was back, dressed in faded jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, her light purple hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail.
“Okay I’m off,” she said, handing me her device and a piece of paper. “Here’s my iPad, just navigate to the YouTube app and you can search from there.”
I hesitated to ask for help, but not wanting to mess up her tablet I said, “If you don’t mind, can you show me how to work the iPad? I’ve never tried one before.”
I wasn’t super tech savvy, truth be told. When I needed a computer, I went to the library. But I was used to using point of sale machines at my jobs, and it turned out using an iPad wasn’t much different.
Once she’d shown me the basics Gretchen handed me a sticky note. “Here’s my number in case you need me when I’m gone.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll text you from my phone, so you have mine as well.”
“Great.”
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.