Knitting Under the Influence

VII

So… no Maria?” Sari said, looking around. The Smiths’ house was small, but lovely, on a quiet cul-de-sac in Brentwood. From the little she knew about real estate, she guessed it was worth at least a couple of million dollars, even though it was just your basic cozy Mediterranean.

“No Maria,” Jason said. “I fixed it-she's going to baby-sit Friday nights, instead of during the day. So the good news is I can now go out on Friday nights.”

“Is there bad news?”

“Yeah-I have no one to go out with.”

Sari decided to ignore that. “Did you talk to her about letting Zack cry?”

“Uh-” He looked down, shuffled his feet.

“You really are scared of her, aren't you?”

“I told you.”

“Seriously,” Sari said. “You've got to get her onboard with this, or it's going to hurt Zack's progress.”

“I know. I will.” He took a deep breath. “Sometimes it's all just so hard.”

Sari narrowed her eyes. What did he want from her? Sympathy?

Fortunately, Zack poked his head into the hallway at that moment.

“Hey,” Sari said. “I see you there, mister. We're going to have fun today.”

Zack immediately went running in the opposite direction.

“I’ll get him,” Jason said and took off.

He scooped Zack up and trotted back with Zack tucked sideways under one arm. “He's running for the goal,” Jason said, his free hand held out, running back style. “He's at the thirty-yard line, he's at the twenty, the ten, and he's almost there, and he- Touchdown! Woo-hoo! The crowd goes crazy! Victory dance for the good guys!” He lifted Zack up high in the air and then tossed him a couple more feet up before catching him again. Zack laughed out loud-he had a great laugh, bubbly and unforced and infectious-and as soon as Jason set him down, he tried to climb back up into his arms.

“Oh, so you want me to do it again, do you?” Jason said, picking him up and tossing him high. Zack came back down shrieking with laughter.

“Wow,” Sari said. “He really likes that.”

“Loves it,” Jason said, a little smugly, holding Zack against his chest. “Always has. It's a guaranteed Zack- pleaser.”

“Perfect,” Sari said. “Let's make him ask for it.”

“Ask for it?” Then he realized. “Oh, no. Do we have to?”

Sari shrugged her backpack off her shoulder and tossed it on the floor. “All he's got to say is ‘up.’ But you can't give in until he does. No matter how much he cries.”

He heaved a big theatrical sigh. “All right. You're the boss.”He put Zack on his feet then held out his arms. “You want to go up, Zack? Say ‘up!’”

Zack grabbed at his arms, and Jason raised them out of his reach. “No, pal. You have to say the word. Say ‘up.’” He looked at Sari. “Am I doing this right?”

Zack let out a scream of frustration.

“You're doing it right,” Sari said.

Getting him to say “up” the first time was tricky-the first time always was with a new word-but once Jason had prompted the word about twenty times, pantomiming the action, Zack did finally make an “uhh” sort of noise, and then Jason quickly grabbed him and tossed him. Five minutes after that, Zack was saying “up” with just a reminder or two, and about five minutes after that, he was saying it without one. And about five minutes after that, Jason said, “My back is breaking, Sari. I’ve got to take a break.”

“All right,” Sari said, “I think you've earned one.” Only then Zack said, “Up! Up!” so she said, “Just one more time? Please? He said it so perfectly that time.”

Jason moaned but tossed Zack up. Then he said, “No more.” He set Zack down on the floor and arched his back, digging his fingers into the muscle above his waist.

“Up, up!” Zack said and tugged on Jason's pants.

“I can't, buddy. Daddy's in too much pain.”

“Up? Up?”

“Good job, Zack,” Sari said, squatting down in front of him.

“But there's no more where that came from right now. We'll do more up tomorrow.”

“Up, up!” he said, trying to climb Jason's leg.

“No more up,” Sari said.

“More up?” he said.

Sari lost her balance and had to grab at the wall to steady herself. “What did you just say, Zack?”

“More up? More up?”

“My God,” Sari said. “That's a sentence. You just made a sentence, Zack. He just made a sentence,” she said to Jason.

“Well, not really a sentence,” he said. “I mean, technically-”

“Okay, fine, it's a phrase, not a sentence. But he put two words together. On his own. That's huge. That's bigger than huge. I’ve never had a kid do that on his own before.” Sari hugged Zack. “You're incredible. Did you know that you're incredible? Because you're incredible.”

He pushed her away. “More up,” he said.

She looked at Jason. “You have to.”

“But it hurts.”

“More up?”

“You have to,” Sari said again. “You've got to reinforce this. Please, Jason. You have no idea how huge this is.”

“All right,” he said. “But you better have a hot towel waiting for me when I’m done.”

“You've got it,” Sari said. She felt giddy. She didn't get a lot of sudden breakthroughs like this. Most of her work was slow and frustrating. But this-this was the kind of thing she dreamed about. “A hot towel and anything else you want. On me.”

“Anything?”

“You name it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You are a dedicated therapist.” He held his arms out. “More up, Zack. Come and get it.”

Sari really did get him a hot towel afterward.

She let Zack take a few minutes to play by himself-he'd certainly earned it-and ran off into the kitchen, returning a short while later with a towel she'd soaked with insta-hot water.

When Jason saw what she held in her hand, he laughed. “All right,” he said and turned so his back was to her. “Put it on. You owe me.” He hitched up his shirt, exposing the area above his narrow waist.

Sari pressed the towel against his back.

He yelped and said, “It's hot!”

“I thought that was the point.”

“Yeah, it was.” And then he relaxed and said, “Aah. Now it feels good.” Then, after a moment: “Can you put it a little higher?”

Sari pushed his shirt up over his shoulders, baring his whole back, and pressed the towel against it. The skin there was smooth and hairless. When he shifted, even slighdy, muscles moved and tightened below his shoulders. Sari tried not to think about how she could, if she wanted to, simply run her hands around his waist and up to his chest.

His eyes were half closed with pleasure. “They should offer this at all the spas.”

And suddenly Sari remembered girls-high school girls, their classmates, giving Jason Smith massages out on the low wall behind the cafeteria, where everyone sat during free periods. He'd be sitting on the wall and they'd stand behind him and rub his shoulders through the light fabric of his shirts- usually the polyester top to some team uniform-and laugh and coyly let their fingers slide in against his neck and up into the curly hair above his