Free Obsessed by G. H. Ephron

okay alone?”
    â€œWe’ve got a visiting nurse checking on him. And the people in the downstairs apartment. He should be okay for a night or two, but after that…”
    â€œGood thing he’s got family nearby,” my mother said. “By the time your father and I got down to Florida, Uncle Louie was beyond help and the apartment—it was atrocious. I don’t think it had been cleaned since your Aunt Gertie died.” She wiped her hands on a napkin, as if some of the filth in Uncle Louie’s apartment was still on them. “He had extension cords strung all over that house, draped over everything. Had to, of course. You couldn’t get near the walls to plug anything in.” She blew on her tea. “Don’t know why I remember that.”
    â€œWhy does this have to happen now?” Annie asked. “Mom has plane tickets for Ireland—leaving next week. She’s never been. Her relatives are planning a family reunion and everything. Now she says she doesn’t see how she can go. I don’t know what to tell her.”
    I had my datebook out. At least this was something I knew a great deal about and could help with. “Why don’t I go over with you and see him tomorrow morning? I haven’t got anything scheduled until eleven.”
    Relief flooded Annie’s face. Then she looked down at her plate, as if she were embarrassed by the emotion.
    The pot roast was falling-apart tender, and the noodle pudding was dense and chewy with a crisp outer layer, savory—not sweet the way some people make it. Annie picked at hers. We both turned down seconds.
    As we were leaving, my mother handed Annie a plastic container with her leftovers, reached up, and put her hands firmly on Annie’s shoulders. “You listen to me. If there’s anything I can do to help, you just ask.” Annie gave a mute nod. “I’ve been there. Alone with this is not where you want to be.”
    Annie gave my mother a hug.
    To me, my mother muttered loud enough for anyone three blocks away to hear, “Her you stand up for a date with a brain?”

    On the porch, I watched as Annie rummaged in her backpack.
    â€œSo what did happen to you?” she asked.
    â€œThat woman who works on the unit—the one who I helped out with a flat the other night at the Pearce?”
    â€œThe one who was being stalked.” Annie narrowed her eyes. “It happened again?”
    â€œNot exactly. She’s the one who arranged for me to watch a functional MRI. When she pulled out of the garage after—”
    â€œYou walked her to her car?”
    â€œUh-huh. I noticed her taillights were out. They weren’t out the other night, and it’s a new car. I thought…” What had I thought? Why did I have to go rushing out after her, follow her home? “I thought her car had been tampered with. Maybe there was a gas leak, too.”
    â€œSo you followed her home.” Annie had a bemused expression. In retrospect, it hadn’t been the most rational thing to do.
    â€œHer ex-boyfriend was waiting at her apartment.”
    â€œSo he thought you were the stalker and you thought he was,” she said, putting it together. “Two protectors stalking the stalker.” She shook her head. “She must be something else.”
    â€œShe’s—” I did a double-take. “She’s a post-doc.”
    â€œYou’re a good guy, Peter,” Annie said, giving me a patronizing pat on the back. She pulled out her car keys and gazed up at me. “You know, I kind of like you with that shiner. Remember Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront ?”
    â€œI coulda been a contender,” I snarled.
    â€œHe was a pretty sexy guy, you know.” Annie slid me a smile.
    â€œHe was, was he?”
    I took her in my arms and nuzzled her neck. I loved her smell—it was sharp and sweet, like fresh-cut grass and watermelon. Usually Annie melts