Knitting Under the Influence

“Not really,” Kathleen said. “I mean, how mad can you be that someone has stopped freeloading on you?”

“They didn't seem to want you to go, though.”

“I know. And they want me to come back. Especially my mom-Christa and Kelly don't get along when I’m not around.”

“Why not?”

“I don't know. It's a triplet thing.”

“You have the weirdest family dynamic of anyone I know,” Lucy said.

Sari raised her right hand. “Uh… excuse me?” she said. “I’m at least in the running on that one.”

“Actually,” Lucy said, “you're in a league of your own.”

IV

When Kevin arrived at Kathleen's apartment to pick her up for dinner that night, he told her that he had run into Sam Kaplan in the lobby, and they had agreed it would be fun to all have dinner together. Kathleen wasn't sure who the “all” referred to but soon discovered that it meant that Sam's ex-wife, Patricia, was with him.

It had never occurred to Kathleen before how much of the time she'd previously spent with Sam Kaplan had been one-on-one, just the two of them alone in his apartment. Tonight they were with other people, and she almost didn't recognize her sharp-tongued and occasionally brutal upstairs neighbor in the sociable and relaxed guy who sat across the table from her, his arm casually resting across the back of his ex-wife's chair. If it hadn't been for the way he rubbed all his flatware clean with his napkin and occasionally rolled his eyes at things she said, she might have suspected that he, like her sisters, had an identical twin.

The wine was good, and the waiter and Sam and Kevin all kept refilling Kathleen's glass as soon as it was half empty, so she had probably had a lot more than she even realized by the time the conversation turned to Jackson Porter.

“It was wonderful seeing him and your mother at the benefit,” Sam said to Kevin. “It's been a while.”

“They just don't go out as much as they used to,” Kevin said. “Much as I hate to admit it, they're getting older and starting to slow down.”

“They may not go out together as much,” Kathleen said, “but your father certainly manages to get around.”

“Excuse me?” Kevin said.

“Oh, you know,” she said with a slightly inebriated wink.

“Those daily lunches with attractive young women in private hotel rooms.”

“Ah,” he said. “You've been listening to gossip.” He turned to Sam and Patricia with a smile. “Every once in a while, the office rumor mill comes up with an exciting double life for my father. I guess it's one of the ways people keep themselves entertained during a long day at work.”

“Offices can get boring,” Sam said. His eyes moved quickly back and forth between Kevin and Kathleen, assessing the situation without giving any of his own thoughts away. “And everyone enjoys a good scandal, even a fictional one.”

“But in this case it's true,” Kathleen said. She didn't really care that Jackson cheated on his wife, but she found it incredibly annoying that Kevin was making it sound like she was some kind of gullible stooge. “Half the office could tell you which hotel he uses. Which room.”

Kevin looked at her, his brows drawn together. He drew his breath in.

“Kevin,” Patricia said suddenly, “do your parents still have that house on the beach in Santa Barbara? Or was it Montecito? We went out there once and it was just lovely.”

Kevin answered in the affirmative, and the talk shifted to beach houses and whether the Southern California real estate bubble was likely to burst anytime in the near future.

They all walked back to the apartment building together. Kevin stuck with Sam, talking shop with him, while the two women strolled ahead. He hadn't really looked at Kathleen since she had said that stuff about his father, and now she wondered if he was furious with her. The thought intrigued her. She had never seen him angry.

Patricia said, “It's a beautiful night, isn't it? I love the fall. I loved it more on the East Coast, but even here there's something special about a cool autumn night.”

“Are you from the East Coast originally?” Kathleen asked.

They were walking in rhythm together, their high heels clicking in sync on the paved sidewalk.

Patricia nodded. “I grew up on Long Island and met Sam in college. I never thought I’d end up a Californian, but we came here after we were married and never left. And as long as Joanna's at UCLA, I suppose I’ll stay. But if she settles down somewhere else, I’ll probably move. Even after all these years, it still doesn't feel like home to me.”

Kathleen nodded but she wasn't really listening. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“What's that?”

“I’ve never seen a divorced couple spend so much time together before. I thought once people divorced, they usually stayed away from each other.”

In the light of a street lamp, she could see Patricia smile.

“That's not a question.”

“Sorry,” Kathleen said. “I guess my question would be: why?”

“That is a question,” Patricia said, “but it's a vague one. Why what?”

“Why get divorced in the first place if you like being together?”

“Now that's a real question,” Patricia said. “But I’ll have to think about the answer.” They walked in silence for a moment, the men's voices suddenly audible behind them. Kevin was talking about a development he was overseeing that Sam seemed to have some concerns about-the land, he was saying, was known to have geological problems and several previous companies had tried building there and given up.

Then Patricia spoke again. “Sam is a wonderful man and I love him dearly,” she said. “But I find him absolutely intolerable in many ways. I wake up every morning delighted I don't have to live with him anymore.”

“Is it-” Kathleen searched for a delicate way to say it. “Do you consider yourselves still a couple?”

“Oh, we stopped being a couple when we got divorced,” Patricia said. “We have dinner together once in a while and that's enough for both of us. We always enjoy it but we're ready to say goodbye at the end of the evening. At least, I know I am.”

“Sam seemed happy tonight,” Kathleen said.

Patricia shrugged. “As I said, we enjoy each other's company.”

“It's unusual.”

“So you've already pointed out.” They had reached their destination. They stopped and waited for the men.

“What now?” Kathleen said to Kevin as he joined her.

“Let's go up to your place.”

She nodded, but wondered-without any real preference-if he wanted to come up to yell at her or to have sex. Or both. There was no way he could not be pissed off at her, not after what she'd said about Jackson.

He surprised her. As soon as they were inside her apartment, he went running for a soccer ball and dribbled it over to her. “Whoever makes the first goal has to do whatever the other says,” he said, smiling. “And I do mean whatever. Nothing off limits.”

“You're on,” Kathleen said, dropping her purse and kicking off her shoes.

She was a good athlete, but he was determined, and she wanted to give him the win. She suspected (and was proved right) that he had something in mind they'd both enjoy.

The air mattress wasn't comfortable for two, so, after all the games had been played, Kevin went back to his house to sleep.

The next morning, Kathleen put on her sweats and ran across Wilshire and then wove her way around the back streets until she'd run for a solid hour, finishing in Westwood Village, where she picked up some coffee. A