Claire LaZebnik - Knitting Under the Influence

“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 cup in each hand, she walked back to her building, then took the elevator straight up to the penthouse. She kicked at the door and Sam answered it dressed for work.

“You have time for a cup of coffee?” she asked.

“A quick one.” He took one of the cups from her. “Come into the kitchen. Last time I let you drink coffee in here, you spilled some on the rug.”

“How'd you know that?” she said. He hadn't been in the room when it happened.

“I saw you wiping at it later, when you thought I wasn't looking. It left a stain.”

“Jeez,” she said. “You can't get away with anything around here.”

“No,” he said. “You can't.” A point further proven when they were sitting down at the kitchen table and he said, “That was a lovely choice you made-to publicly rub Kevin's nose in the fact his father's cheating on his mother. What son wouldn't enjoy that?”

“Shut up,” Kathleen said. She had insisted on keeping her coffee in its takeout cup for no reason other than because Sam preferred her to put it in a mug. She played now with the cardboard sleeve, pushing it up and down the bottom half of the cup. “I wouldn't be so obnoxious about it if he would just for once admit what everyone knows.”

“Jackson's been cheating on Caro since the day they got married,” Sam said. “Literally. He invited his girlfriend at the time to the wedding. So he wouldn't get bored if dinner went on too long, I assume.”

“You're kidding.”

“The person who told me that is usually reliable, and I don't see any reason not to believe it, all things considered.” He shrugged. “That's just the way it is with Jackson. He's a short ugly man with a lot of money and power who still can't believe that attractive women are willing to sleep with him. Caro must have made her peace with it years ago.”

“Or is just so stoned she doesn't care anymore.”

“I first met Caro twenty years ago,” Sam said. “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

“Prettier than Patricia?”

“Yes, Kathleen, prettier than Patricia. And there aren't many women I’d say that about.” He took a careful sip from his pristine white coffee mug. “But she made her deal with the devil. She knew what she was getting herself into.”

“Then maybe she should let her sons in on the secret.”

He studied her from under his dark eyebrows. “You really think Kevin doesn't know?”

“No,” she said. “I totally think he knows. That's why it drives me so crazy that he won't admit it.”

“How angry was he last night?” Sam asked.

“He wasn't mad at all,” Kathleen said, jerking her chin up. “He didn't say a single word about it.”

“Well, that must have been frustrating for you,” Sam said. “Working so hard to get a reaction out of him and then not getting it.”

“I didn't want to make him angry,” she said. “I just wanted him to admit the truth for once. For his own mental health.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam said. “You don't point out to a guy that one of his parents is unfaithful and a liar unless your goal is to infuriate him.”

She opened her mouth to argue but had to close it again. He was right, of course. She had known that what she was saying to Kevin would make anyone furious-anyone except, apparently, Kevin. The truth was she had found his lack of a reaction anticlimactic. “Well, why won't he just admit it?” she said. “If I know it and he knows it and the whole world knows it. Why not just admit it's true?”

“If the Porters started acknowledging everything that's sick or wrong with their lives…” Sam didn't bother to finish the sentence. “They've found some kind of status quo in just ignoring everything. That's what works for them, I guess. And if you're going to marry into that family, Kathleen, you're going to have to learn to be as blind as the rest of them.”

“I don't think I could,” she said. “I mean, to sit around all the time pretending you don't know things you know-”

“It probably just takes a little practice, that's all.”

“I guess.” She twisted her mouth sideways, thinking. “So what else do you know about them?”

“Who? The Porters?”

“You said there's lots of dirt there.”

“There is,” he said. “But you're not going to hear it from me. Ask your husband-to-be.”

“He won't tell me anything.”

“No,” Sam said. “He probably won't.”

During the weeks following Halloween, Sari felt like she had a devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other. The devil looked and sounded a lot like Lucy, and it said, “Keep things going with the guy, have some fun, make him fall in love with you, and then shatter his heart and his life into a million pieces.” And the angel, who looked a little like Ellen, but was dressed for some reason in Kathleen's responsible clothes, said, “Don't do it, Sari. For your own sake.”