Knitting Under the Influence

“Yeah,” David said, but not completely happily.

They lifted their hands to wave in unison as the car drove by them.

The girls didn't even notice. They were too busy talking and laughing.

III

Istill can't believe you're knitting an afghan,” Sari said to Kathleen, reaching across the table to touch the yarn. “It's so unlike you to be knitting something warm.”

“And brown,” Lucy added.

Since it was already late afternoon, they had decided to flout custom altogether and take their knitting out to a bar. They had scored a small table, which held their drinks and some of their knitting paraphernalia, and their knitting bags were on the floor at their feet, the skeins of wool coiling up along their legs to the needles they held. The guys who were crowded in front of the TV watching football and drinking beer had given them some strange looks when they first got settled, but they didn't care.

“Isn't it nice?” Kathleen said, lifting the needles up high so they could see the afghan in all its glory.

“Who's it for?” Lucy asked.

“Me, of course. I don't knit for anyone else. You know that.”

“But it's so unsexy,” Lucy said. “Unless… You're planning on lying under it naked and surprising someone, aren't you?”

“I doubt it,” Kathleen said. “There's no one worth being naked for these days.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I am.” Kathleen put down her needles and took a sip of her drink. “Believe me, I’m well aware that of the three of us, I’m the only one going home to an empty bed tonight. It's like the world has turned upside down-everyone's having sex but me.

“I’m sorry, Kathleen,” Sari said. “It's not fair.”

“Yeah, it is.” She wrapped a strand of yarn around her index finger. “It's totally fair. This whole thing with Sam… It's my fault and I know it. I said some really stupid things about wanting to marry Kevin for his money.” She tugged the yarn off her finger and slumped down in her seat. “You guys are supposed to be my friends. Why didn't you stop me from going around saying stupid shit like that?”

“We stopped you from getting married to someone you didn't love,” Sari said. “Don't we get credit for that?”

“Keeping you from ever doing anything stupid would be a full-time job,” Lucy said. “And you're old enough to know that you can't go around telling people you're going after guys for their money and not expect it to bite you in the ass sooner or later.”

“But people shouldn't have to pay forever for stupid things they said and did in the past,” Sari said. “Look at Jason-he did far worse things than Kathleen-at least, I think he did-and here I am kind of madly in love with him. People deserve second chances.”

“You gave Jason a second chancebecause you were madly in love with him,” Lucy said. “The madly in love part came first.”

“So what are you saying?” Kathleen said. “That Sam just didn't like me enough to give me a second chance?”

“That's not what I meant.”

“Yes, it is. You're saying that if Sam had been madly in love with me, he would have forgiven me.”

“I don't know the guy,” Lucy said. “I don't know how his mind works.”

“I do,” Kathleen said. “He's not the kind of guy who gives people second chances. I actually think he was sort of in love with me, in his own way. I can tell when a guy's not interested-and that's not the problem. He just doesn't trust me.”

“It's his loss,” Sari said. “You'll find someone better. You could snap your fingers and have any guy in this room right now.”

Kathleen looked around. “Yeah,” she said. “I probably could.” There was a pause and then she wearily gathered the needles back up in her hands and resumed her knitting while Lucy and Sari exchanged worried looks above her bent head.

IV

When they were saying good night, Sari reminded Kathleen that she had to clean out her apartment. “You cant just leave your stuff there forever.”

“I won't.”

“It'll just get harder and harder to go back.”

“I know,” Kathleen said.

“Make the break,” Sari said. “I want to see you happy again, Kath. And I don't think you will be until you're completely out of there.”

“You're right.” Kathleen fished her car keys out of her purse. “Maybe I’ll just run by there tonight. Just throw everything in the car and then find a way to let Sam know I’ve moved out.”

Sari checked her watch. “Want me to come with you?”

“Nah. Jason and Zack are waiting for you.”

“I can call them-”

“No, don't. I’m fine. I’m just going to run in there, get my stuff, and leave. A clean break, like you say.”

“Good,” Sari said. “And then you'll be able to move on. You'll have a new job, a new place to live-”

“My old job, my old place to live…”

“It's still a new beginning in its own way.”

Kathleen shrugged.

Sari hugged and released her. “I’m sorry things suck right now.”

“My own fault.” She trudged toward her car, her head down. “Hey,” Sari called. “You really okay?”

Kathleen turned to look at her. “Totally. Nothing gets me down for long. I’m tough.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m morethan tough. I’m Xena, the warrior princess. And I don't need no fucking costume to prove it.” She threw her head back and gave a passable Xena cry. People in the parking lot turned to look at her. “See?” she said. “See how tough I am?”

“You're a nut,” Sari said and got into her own car.

Kathleen watched Sari drive away. Even the car looked like it couldn't wait to get where it was going.

Kathleen herself was in no such rush. She took her time on the drive over to the apartment building, uncharacteristically gliding to a stop at every yellow light and staying well within the speed limit. She dreaded walking back into the apartment she had fled from, but Sari was right-it was time to clean it out and move on.

The doorman and elevator man greeted her with uncharacteristic warmth. “Haven't seen you around here much lately,” the first said. The elevator man actually smiled at her. “Good to see you again,” he said, before closing the door and taking her up to her floor.

Once she was inside the apartment, Kathleen looked around it with disgust. What was this place that she had lived in for several months? It could have been nice-it was big and pretty and well built-and instead it was a graveyard for balls and goals and dirty clothing and half-filled air mattresses. She hadn't even tried to make it livable. What was wrong with her? Why did everything good evade her touch, leaving her with nothing to call her own? Why did other people's lives fall into place and never hers?

She threw herself down on the air mattress in the living room and stared up at the ceiling. She never wanted to move again, just wanted to lie there forever in the peaceful quiet of the empty room, wallowing in self-loathing and misery.