Knitting Under the Influence

idea.”

“I can think of better ideas,” he said. “I’ve been thinking of better ideas for you and me for a long time, Sari.”

“You do have stalker potential.”

“No,” he said. “All things considered, I think I’ve been pretty restrained.”

“You deserve a medal.”

“A medal isn't what I want.”

Her mouth curved in a smile and they were kissing again-she was pretty certain she started it this time, although it was hard to tell. It went on for a while.

But still somehow, eventually, she managed to stop touching him and get herself into her car. She shut the door, but then he tapped on the window, and she rolled it down. “What?” she said.

“You never told me who Charlie was.”

Euphoria fled. “My brother,” she said flatly, and, as she drove away, she wondered if Jason had any idea what a huge mistake it had been for him to bring up Charlie when, for once, she hadn't already been thinking about him.

Driving home in the dark, Sari suddenly remembered something she hadn't thought of in years-some graffiti in a girls’ bathroom stall in high school. It had stayed up there for months, maybe even years, and the image had eventually seared itself into her brain, to come back now in an abrupt flash.

First someone had written in dark purple marker, “I want to be raped by Jason Smith.”

Underneath that, someone else had written in orange, “Rape is an act of violence not sex you fucking idiot.”

And underneath that, in pink letters: “Even an act of violence by Jason Smith would be sexy.” The i in “violence” was dotted with a heart.

Even back then, Sari had known that there was no use trying to be politically correct at her school, no use trying to save the other girls from their sick wet dreams and perverted sense of romance. You can't save people who don't want to be saved.

But where did that leave her?

She didn't sleep much that night. The bed was empty and cold without him, and as she tossed and shivered, unable to sleep, tortured by confusion and lust, she wondered if he ever felt the same way, like the bed was too big for him without Sari curled up at his side.

Not Jason, of course.

Charlie.

II

Kathleen and Kevin spent Saturday night at the San Ysidro ranch in Santa Barbara and didn't want to rush back, so the girls moved their Sunday knitting circle to the evening, which meant that Sari could serve wine and guacamole instead of bagels and coffee.

As she poured herself a second glass of wine, Kathleen pointed out that it was almost Thanksgiving.

“You doing the whole family thing?” Sari asked her.

“I’m splitting it down the middle,” Kathleen said. She settled back in her seat. “Kevin invited me to come home with him-”

“Whoa,” Sari said. “That's a big deal.” She was flipping through a new knitting magazine. She had finished the baby blanket and was ready for her next project but was having trouble deciding what to do. Since Friday night, she hadn't been able to focus on much of anything.

“You don't bring a girl home for Thanksgiving dinner unless you're pretty serious about her,” Lucy said, looking up from her knitting.

Kathleen grimaced. “Put a little pressure on me, why don't you? Anyway, I said yes, but then Mom started leaving me messages telling me that I’m always too busy for them these days, and it's the holiday season, and don't I care about my family, and so on and so on. So I’ve got to at least swing by there at some point. Maybe even with Kevin, if he'll come.”

“Has he met the twins yet?” Sari asked.

“Once. We had dinner at the McMansion a couple of weeks ago.

“What'dhe think of them?”

“He said they seemed nice. And that I’m prettier than they are.

“Has he had his eyesight checked recently?” Lucy asked.

“Shut up.”

“Mom, Kathleen's telling me to shut up again,” Lucy said. “Punish her.”

“Does that make me ‘Mom’?” Sari looked up, her finger stuck in a page. “Because I don't think I’m emotionally ready to parent two grown women.”

“I knew you'd reject us one day,” Kathleen said. She dipped her finger in the wine and ran it along the edge of the wineglass. “So what are you guys doing for Thanksgiving? You going home, Luce?”

Lucy shook her head. “Too far.”

“What do you mean too far?” Kathleen wiped her finger on her shirt and picked up her knitting. “You grew up right around here.”

“Yes, and my parents moved to Arizona three years ago-which I’ve told you a million times.”

“You'll probably have to tell me again. I’ve already forgotten it. It's the way you drone on about things-I’m so bored I can't stay focused.”

“Mom,” Lucy said. “Kathleen's being a jerk.”

“If you two don't stop fighting, I’m sending you both to your rooms,” Sari said. She turned another page of her magazine. “There, are you satisfied?”

“Not really,” Kathleen said. “She started it.”

“I don't care who started it. Let Mommy get shit-faced in peace.” Sari took a sip of wine. “What about James, Luce? What's he doing?”

“Going to his uncle's in Long Beach. He offered to bring me, but it doesn't sound like much fun-too many old relatives.”

Sari said, “Any way I could talk you into coming with me to my parents’ house?”

“I actually don't mind being alone,” Lucy said. “I figured I’d go see a couple of movies, let myself eat as much popcorn as I want for once-”

“Sounds kind of wonderful,” Sari said. “Believe me, I’m not asking you for your sake. I’m asking you for mine. The last time I went home, it was a pretty bad scene. I had to leave after like ten minutes. But my mom's always liked you, and if you're there, she'll be on her best behavior and maybe we won't get into our usual fight.”

Kathleen said, “You're not exactly selling it, Sari.”

“Okay, wait-let me try this again,” Sari said. She plastered on a fake smile. “It'll be lots of fun! And don't forget about the delicious home-cooked meal!”

“Your mom once made me a bologna and mayonnaise sandwich,” Lucy said. “I almost threw up.”

“Yeah, okay, she's a shitty cook,” Sari said. “But please, Lucy, I’m begging you. For real. I don't want to go home alone. Please. Please please please please please.”

“Oh, fine,” Lucy said. “But this is depressing. I finally get out of having to go to my home for Thanksgiving, and I’m stuck going to yours. You owe me big for this one, Sari.”

“Name it,” Sari said. “It's yours. You want my firstborn son?”

“Kids are too messy,” Lucy said. “I’d take a puppy, though.”

“Yeah, because, dogs aren't messy,” Kathleen said. She swiped a chip through the guacamole. “They never shit on the floor.” She stuck the entire chip in her mouth.

Sari tossed the magazine onto the table with a sigh. “Maybe I had too much wine,” she said. “Everything looks ugly and wrong in there. It all seems like too much work for no good reason.”

“Wine usually makes things look better,” Kathleen said. “You sound more depressed than drunk.”