Knitting Under the Influence

Unfortunately for that plan, a loud banging started up somewhere in the building. She was getting more and more annoyed about it, when she realized it was coming from her own kitchen.

For someone who was never going to move again, she jumped up quickly enough. She ran, even, into the kitchen and flung the door open.

Sam was there, in gray pants and a white button-down shirt. No tie or jacket tonight. “Hello, Kathleen,” he said. “Do you have a moment?”

She stared at him. He seemed very calm, but then she noticed that one of his hands was opening and closing spasmodically at his side. The last time they'd spoken was when she had gotten off the elevator after their fight. “Yeah, I guess,” she said and took a step back.

“Thank you.” He entered and she let the door close behind him with a click.

“What do you want?” she said.

“I heard you come in.”

She waited.

“You haven't been here for a while. I was thinking maybe I should be worried.”

“I’m fine. As you can see.”

“I’m glad,” he said. Then, “I was hoping you'd come back. I thought maybe we should talk.”

“Really?” she said. “Because I feel like we wrapped things up pretty well last time I saw you. You pretty much answered any remaining questions I might have had with that get-the-hell-out-of-my-apartment shit.”

“I was angry,” he said. “But I’ve been waiting for you to come back, hoping maybe we could-”

“I’m only here to grab my stuff. In two hours, this apartment will be all yours again.”

“You don't have to move out.”

“I don't?” she said. “Weren't you planning on throwing me out anyway? Or is that the problem-I’m ruining all of your fun?”

“Kathleen-”

“Huh,” she said, leaning back against the counter. “Are you still here?”

He let out a deep breath. “I know you re not the world's greatest listener, but could you maybe just try for once?”

She looked at her fingernails. “It's not that I can't listen so much as it is that I’m not interested.”

“Pretend I’m talking about shoes.”

“Shoes?” she repeated. “How fucking shallow do you think I am?” She turned and walked out of the kitchen.

He followed her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean it that way. I was just trying to-” He stopped. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “But will you please just listen to me for a second?”

“Okay, fine,” she said. “What?”

He pushed his hand through his hair. His fingers were shaking. “I’m still trying to figure things out,” he said. “I didn't want to get hurt. I still don't.” She stayed silent. Then he said, “But I miss you when you're not around. It's been way too quiet around here, way too lonely. Unbearable even. You're like-” He opened his hands. “You're like a pet-company when I want company, so long as I don't mind a few stains on the rug and couch.”

“Jesus,” she said. “I’m not a fucking cat, Sam.”

“No,” he said. “I was thinking more a dog. Cats are very clean.”

She turned her back on him, took a step away, then whirled back around. “You know what? We're both idiots.”

“Okay,” he said.

“We're both idiots,” she repeated. “We've just been taking turns at it. Sometimes I talk too much and say things I don't mean. And when I said that I wanted to marry Kevin and be rich forever, I didn't mean it. Because-” There was no way to say it and make herself look good. So she didn't even try. “Because I’ve never known what to do with myself. I have nothing I want to do and nothing I’m good at. So sometimes I just try things out to see if they fit. And I thought maybe going after money was a sign of-I don't know, maturity or something. So I tried it out. Tried to be-what's the word? When all you care about is money?”

“Mercenary?”

She nodded. “Yeah, that's it. I tried being mercenary. And it didn't fit. I’m a flake and I put my foot in it all the time and I can be a pig when I eat-”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I’m a pig and all those other things, but I’m not mercenary, Sam. If I were, I’d have married Kevin in Hawaii like I was supposed to.”

“You were supposed to get married?” he said.

“But I didn't.”

He smiled weakly. “I wouldn't call that one of your strongest selling points at the moment-that you were engaged to be married to someone else a couple of months ago.”

“It is, though,” Kathleen said. “I didn't marry Kevin, not because I couldn't but because I didn't want to. Doesn't that prove I don't just care about money?”

“It doesn't change the fact that I’m rich. And I can't quite see what other charms I’m likely to hold for someone like you.” He gave a twisted smile. “I’m well aware you could have any man you wanted.”

She took a step toward him. “Sam-”

He held his hands up, holding her off. “I don't want to be anyone's sugar daddy, Kathleen.” He looked at the floor and then back up at her again. “You have no idea how scared I am of becoming something like that.”

“If it makes you feel better,” she said, “you're not the sugar daddy type. I mean, if I wanted someone to take care of me and buy me things, I’d find someone who's actually nice to me. Isn't that kind of the point of a sugar daddy?”

“The money's the point.”

“I don't want your money, Sam. I don't even need it-I’ve started working for my sisters again.”

“That can't pay very well.”

“Well enough,” she said. “Well enough that if it would help you learn to trust me, I could pay my half of anything.”

He gestured around them. “This apartment costs two point five million dollars.”

“Well, not that, obviously. Anyway, I’m living with my sisters again. I just meant I can pay for my meals. And movies and stuff like that.”

“You think that will solve the problem?”

“Fuck it, Sam,” she said, flinging her right hand out. “Either you believe that I’m not just after your money or you don't. What else can I say?”

He studied her for a moment. “You're right,” he said finally “And I do believe you. Maybe it's a mistake, but I do. So where does that leave us?”

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “I don't know.” She took another step toward him. “But if I were a dog, I’d be a stray. I have nowhere to go, no place to call my own-just be nice to me and I’ll probably follow you home.”

“But what if this is something else you're just trying out? Going after-” He shook his head. “Christ, I don't even know how to define what this might be. But what if you realize this-whatever it is-doesn't fit, either? What if you follow someone else home one day?”

“It's a risk,” she said.

“I don't know if it's one I want to take.”

Her mouth curved up in something that wasn't a smile. “Then get a golden retriever. He'll be yours for life.”

“They shed.” He took another deep breath. “Look, Kathleen, I don't expect anything permanent. And I don't want any promises. I’ve already been through that whole until-death-do-us-part thing and the fact that I’m here with you right now proves how meaningless those promises are. But I’ve been protecting myself for a while. To put myself out there again-with someone with your kind of track record-knowing how badly I could get hurt-” He stopped and said again, “I don't want any promises. But I need some sense of the risk/gain ratio. How much time am I likely to have?”