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9.Yarn Over
I
As the old year gave way to the new one, Kathleen found herself with a lot of free time on her hands.
For one thing, she no longer had a job. After Hawaii, she had never even bothered returning to the office. “You can kiss any references goodbye,” Sam said when he found out she hadn't given two weeks’ notice. It didn't matter: her sisters had asked her to come back to work for them and she had said she would, after a few more weeks of vacation.
So her days weren't busy, but neither were her nights. Although both Lucy and Sari continued to show up faithfully at the Sunday morning knitting circle, once the evening rolled around, they almost always had plans with their new boyfriends. They often invited her to join them, but Kathleen had never much liked being the odd man out, despite-or because of-all her childhood experience in that role.
Getting a boyfriend of her own would have solved that problem, but since the whole Kevin thing Kathleen hadn't felt much like going out to bars and meeting new guys. Sometimes at night she remembered that she might have been married at this moment-would have been, if her friends hadn't interceded-and her heart would start pounding with fear. It wasn't the thought of marriage itself that was so scary-just the realization that, left on her own, she was capable of making such a hugely bad decision. How could she have come that close to marrying Kevin, when now she didn't even miss him? She felt that, for the moment at least, she should avoid putting herself in the position of making more mistakes.
So she spent her days sleeping late, ru
She hadn't intended to make something so uncharacteristic, had, in fact, gone to the yarn store with the intention of knitting herself a little glittery evening bag with lots of fluffy fringe on top, but she had seen the yarn piled up in a barrel and the sight and touch of it had called to her in some weird way and she had leafed through all of the yarn books and magazines at the store until she found a pattern that seemed right for it. It had cost a fortune, but she wasn't spending money on going out, so she figured she could spring for it.
The growing afghan felt warm and soft as it piled up on her lap. She frequently admired how well the color went with Sam's den and thought that maybe she would just leave it there when she was finished-for her own use, of course. She spent a lot of time there.
The afghan was one more element to add to the general comfort and coziness of Sam's den, and Kathleen almost always found herself lingering there on long dark winter evenings, watching TV-turning the volume down or off when Sam was around, since he would only join her there if he could work- and on equally long Sunday afternoons, when she'd lie on the sofa lazily skimming the Style and Art sections of the newspaper while Sam read all the business articles sitting upright in the leather armchair. At some point they would realize they were hungry, and Sam would go into the kitchen, where a half an hour later the smell of garlic or roasting chicken would reach out and pull Kathleen in there with him to chop up vegetables or set the table or do something equally unchallenging and basic that he would still accuse her of somehow botching up and insist on redoing himself.
One late afternoon, early in February, Kathleen let herself into Sam's apartment. He wasn't back from work yet. She foraged through his cabinets, found a bag of pistachios and a bottle of iced tea, took her provisions into the den, and turned on the TV. There wasn't anything good on, but she had nothing else to do, so she stayed where she was, cracking pistachios and dropping their shells on the shiny dark wood coffee table, while she flipped aimlessly through the cha
She intended to clean up the mess she'd made, but the drone of the changing cha
She woke up when Sam came into the den. “I thought I heard the TV,” he said. He flicked on the lights. It had grown dark while she slept.
“Hi,” she said hoarsely, blinking and pushing herself into a sitting position. “What time is it?”
“Seven-thirty.” He looked down at her. “Were you asleep?”
“I’m not sure. But it was five-thirty just a few seconds ago, so maybe.” She yawned.
His eyes fell on the coffee table. “Oh, for Christ's sake, Kathleen,” he said. “There are shells everywhere.”
“I’ll clean it up.” She arched her back in a big stretch that ended with a grunt of pleasure. “I’m hungry. What are we having for di
“You're on your own tonight,” he said. “I’m heading out in a few minutes. You can stay if you want to, but you'll have to cook for yourself. I think there's some pasta left from last night.”
“Where are you going?”
“A Thai restaurant in Santa Monica.”
“Can I come with you?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m meeting people.”
“Who?”
“Patricia and a couple of her friends.”
Kathleen made a face. “Oh, come on.”
“Come on what?”
“Don't go out with her.” She was sort of joking, but sort of not. She really didn't want him to go. She wanted him to stay there with her like he usually did. His going out felt like a betrayal.
“I can't cook you di
“I don't care about the food.” She stood up. “I’m just saying you shouldn't keep going out with Patricia.”
“Why not? I enjoy her company. And it gets me out.”
She took a step toward him. “But don't you think it's time you moved on?”
“’Moved on?”
“To still be clinging to your ex-wife…” She shook her head.
“Come on, Sam. I’ve never seen you with anyone else. But you're not that old.”
“Thank you.”
“You know what I mean.” Her hair had fallen into her eyes, and she shoved a couple of strands behind her ears with fingers that twitched with a sudden nervousness. “You're still in the game. Or could be if you tried. It's time you found someone new, put some excitement into your life.”
“I like that you're giving me advice about my love life,” Sam said, unsmiling. “You sure you're an expert on how to do it right?”
“I never said I was an expert, but at least I know how to move on.”
“You only know how to move on,” he said. “From what I’ve seen.
Their eyes met directly for the first time, and Kathleen said, “Don't knock it until you've tried it.”
“It's time for you to go.” She had never heard his voice unsteady before. “I have to finish getting ready.”
“No, you don't,” she said. “Stay with me tonight, Sam.” She came closer, a little scared of him, but confident in her youth and her beauty and the strength of her long arms and legs. They'd never failed her before.
He didn't retreat, but he didn't welcome her, either, just held his ground. “Go away, Kathleen. Before you ruin everything.”
She laughed a little. “I’m not going to ruin anything. This is a good idea. It'll be fun.”
“Go away,” he said again and when she kept advancing on him he turned away from her.
She caught at his arm. She was almost his height and when she made him face her, their eyes were at a level. “What are you afraid of?”
There was a pause. Then: “Losing this” he said quietly. “Not having you here to mess up my place and watch TV.”