Knitting Under the Influence

He didn't seem amused, but he let it go. “Who were you employed by?”

“A small production company.” Well, it was true, wasn't it? “I did PR, mostly.”

“I assume you finished college?”

She nodded.

“Any graduate school?”

“No.” She hadn't considered that for a second, having spent her entire academic career counting the days until she'd be done with school forever. Sitting in a dark classroom on a beautiful day was her idea of torture.

“What did you major in?”

“Economics. And I had a B minus average, if that's what you were going to ask me next. Do you always ask this many questions when you're helping someone out with an apartment?”

“I don't usually ‘help people out’ with apartments,” he said. “I’m in the business of buying, selling, and leasing real estate.”

“Well, you should know right now, I can't afford to buy or even rent an apartment.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m aware of that. Which is why I’m trying to figure out whether you're responsible enough to house-sit.”

“I am.” She was glad she had worn her responsible clothes.

“We'll see. So what kind of job are you going to be looking for now? Something else in entertainment?”

“Probably not. I never really wanted to go into it in the first place-”

“Then why did you?”

“I just kind of fell into the job.”

“Ah,” he said. “So what's next?”

“I don't know. I don't want to jump at the first thing that comes along. I want to figure out what's right for me long term.”

“And what have you figured out so far?” He dotted his mouth carefully with his linen napkin, then set it back across his lap. His fastidiousness was more suited to a fancy dinner party than to a couple of people sitting around a breakfast table on a Sunday evening eating eggs and drinking beer.

“I don't know,” she said again. “The only thing I liked in college was playing sports.”

“Sports? Well, have you thought about coaching kids? Maybe teach PE at a local school?”

“I’d hate that.”

“How about professional sports?”

“I’m not in that kind of shape anymore. I run, but I don't do much else.”

Sam Kaplan had finished his eggs. He leaned back in his chair. Up close, his face was craggier than it had looked from a distance. He said, “I think I can help you out.”

Turned out, there was an empty apartment on the floor right below him, and, for complicated legal reasons, they couldn't put it on the market. “It's all tied up,” was all Sam Kaplan would say about it. “And since we've got plenty of other vacancies right now, I’m not even going to show it until things are settled. You could live there for a while, but I can't make any promises for how long, and you might have to vacate very suddenly. You have family around, right? I mean, other than your father? You wouldn't end up on the street?”

“No, it's fine,” she said.

“All right, then. The apartment's yours if you want it. We can go see it now if you like.”

“I want it,” Kathleen said. “I don't even need to see it to know I want it.” She pushed her empty plate away, leaned far back in her chair, and stretched. “So,” she said. “Now that I’ve got a place to live, I need a job. Got any ideas?”

“You know,” he said, “I just might.”

IV

While Kathleen was getting herself an apartment, Lucy was getting herself laid.

Right there, on the lab table, just feet away from the stinky paper-lined cages where the rats chattered and squeaked and ate and shat constantly.

She wasn't planning on having sex when she first headed into work late that afternoon. She was working on a grant proposal, and a lot of the information she needed was in the lab, so she figured she'd just take her laptop and write there. She had left a message for James letting him know that's where she'd be, and he called her back just as she was walking into the building to say, “I’ll meet you there with a bottle of wine in an hour-what goes well with rat, red or white?” and so she was smiling as she flipped her phone shut and didn't even hear David coming up the steps behind her until he said, “Hey, world, Lucy Cameron's smiling. This has got to be a first.”

She spun around.

“Jesus,” she said. “You scared me.”

“Imagine how I felt. Seeing you smile. Must be awfully cold in hell right about now.”

“You're so funny,” Lucy said. “You're just so incredibly funny, David. Has anyone ever told you how funny you are?”

“Frequently,” he said. “But I never get tired of hearing it.”

“Just too funny for words,” she said. They had reached the front door of their building. She waited, and he reached forward and opened the door for her, then gestured her through with an exaggeratedly gallant arm sweep. She walked through and kept going.

“But you were smiling,” David said, scuttling to catch up with her. He was a small guy and his legs were shorter than hers.

“Was I?” Lucy said. “I must have been thinking about how nice it was going to be to have the lab all to myself. Have you noticed the smile's gone since you showed up?”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He hunched into himself as they walked down the hallway, and she wondered if she had genuinely hurt his feelings. Not that she cared. She was annoyed at him for being there. As lab partners went, he was a decent one and she didn't really have anything against him, but just by showing up he was going to ruin her romantic evening with James.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Lucy said as he unlocked the door to their lab and held it open for her. “It's Sunday.”

“Picking up my laptop-I left it here last night.”

“You were here last night?”

“Yeah.” He shut the door behind them. “I had some writing to do and it's quieter here than anywhere else. My roommate had some kind of stomach bug and kept barfing in our toilet. I had to get out.”

“Still,” she said. “Saturday night, David? No parties? No nightclubs? You're ruining my image of you as a wild party animal.”

“Shut up,” he said. “What were you doing that was so wild and crazy?”

“Knitting and watching TV.”

“Woo-hoo,” he said. “Your life is just as exciting as mine. So where was our friend James that you were at home alone on a Saturday night?”

“Our friend James leads his own life. We're not joined at the hip.”

“That's not what I’ve heard.” He made his eyebrows go up and down.

“Oh, now that one's clever,” she said. “You should write that one down.”

He went to his desk. “Good. The laptop's still here. My entire identity is on that hard drive. Without it, I’m nothing.”

“Glad you found it then,” Lucy said, pulling out her own chair and sitting down. “Don't let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Oh, am I leaving?”

“You don't have to on my account,” she said. “But it's a beautiful day. You should be taking advantage of the sunlight before it's all gone.”

He squinted at her. “Why do I get the feeling you want me out of here? What are you planning, Lucy?”

“Nothing.” Lucy shrugged and opened a book. “Stay or go. I don't care.”