Claire LaZebnik - Knitting Under the Influence

“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.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “You okay, Sari?”

Sari just shrugged. The other two exchanged a look.

“What ever happened with Cute Asshole Guy?” Kathleen asked casually. “Last we heard, you were kissing him.”

“I don't know,” Sari said. Then, in a rush: “Things just keep getting weirder and weirder. I’m actually thinking maybe I should stop working with his kid.”

“Really?”

“I just can't deal with the situation anymore.”

“Well, maybe it's for the best then,” Lucy said.

“It's not for the best,” Sari said with sudden vehemence. “I like Zack a lot. And he's doing great. So it's not for the best, Lucy-it's all fucked up.”

“Then keep working with him,” Lucy said.

“I can't,” Sari said. “It's not a healthy situation. Not with his dad trying to-” She stopped.

“Just tell him to back off so you can keep seeing his kid,” Kathleen said.

“That won't work,” Sari said. “Because of me.” She put her hands up in the air and then let them drop. “I can't seem to just ignore him. It's like… seeing him made my life that much more interesting.” She stared miserably at the rug. “I don't know whether I like him or hate him, but not knowing kept things from being boring-and I like everything about him except that I hate him.”

“You need a real boyfriend,” Lucy said. “Someone decent who keeps your life interesting because he's kind and attentive and not because he used to shove poor old Charlie around.”

“Brilliant,” Sari said. “Know anyone like that?”

“Thousands,” Lucy said. “I’m just holding out on you.”

On Monday morning, Sari walked into Ellen's office and asked to have someone else take over Zachary Smiths program.

Ellen wanted to know why.

“I love the kid,” Sari said. “He's great. But I can't keep seeing him. For personal reasons.”

“You're going to have to give me more than that,” Ellen said.

“No, I don't.”

Ellen waited, but Sari just tightened her mouth and looked at the floor. After a moment, Ellen sighed and-for once-surrendered. “Is there anything I need to know about the family before I assign someone else? Anything you're not telling me?”

“No.”

“Because if there's something wrong-if the guy's a letch, or anything like that-you'd better tell me now. I’m not about to put one of my clinicians into an ugly situation.”

“He's not a letch,” Sari said. “I promise you, it'll be fine for anyone who's not me.”

“You're not getting out of the hours,” Ellen said. “If I put the Smith kid with someone else, you'll have to take on some new kids.”

“I know. That's fine.”

“All right.” Ellen pulled a pad of paper toward her and picked up a pen. “Let me figure this out.”

“Thanks.” Sari moved toward the door.

Ellen looked up again. “Tell me, should I be pissed at you, Sari? Or worried about you?”

“Neither,” Sari said. “I’m a big girl.”

“Not if I’m cleaning up your mess, you're not.”

Sari blushed with sudden shame.

Ellen was already reaching for the phone to cancel that day's appointment for the Smiths when Sari left her office.

Sari checked her e-mail that afternoon. She had three messages from Jason Smith. She looked at the subject lines.

The first was, “About this weekend.”

The second was, “Dinner tonight?”

And the third was, “What the hell is going on?”

She deleted them all immediately.

The first hint something was up came on Monday evening, when Lucy and David were walking out of the lab together and he asked her if she would be in her apartment the following morning.

“What kind of question is that?” she said.

“A yes-or-no one.”

“I may go to the gym,” she said. “Why?”

“Don't go to the gym,” he said. “Stay home.”

“And again, I say, Why?”

“No reason whatsoever.” And he walked off.

That made her curious. David had never come by her apartment before except to drop off work stuff.

She woke up at seven and was in a really bad mood by nine-she still hadn't heard from him and she could have gone to the gym and been back three times by then.

Then, a little after nine, she heard the buzzer. “It's me,” David's voice said, distorted by the intercom system.

“This better be good,” she said and buzzed him in.

She waited by the apartment door, her arms crossed, ready to be furious with him. He came up the stairs, holding something-a big white cardboard box with handles-and flashing an enormous self-satisfied grin. “Lucy,” he said, “meet your new best friend.” He put the box on the hallway floor, knelt down next to it and opened up the top, then reached inside and pulled out an extremely small gray ball of fluff. It had two big eyes and a pointy chin. At the sight of Lucy, it opened its miniature mouth, revealing several tiny uneven white teeth, and gave a squeaky little meow.

“Ow,” David said. “It keeps digging its claws into me.” He held the animal out to her. “So what do you think?”

Lucy squatted down next to him and carefully took the kitten. “Oh,” she said. It was incredibly light, like it was made out of fur and not much more. It fit on the palm of her hand, and she could feel its heart beating against her palm. “Let's go in,” she said and stood up slowly, cradling the kitten safe and tight against her body, then led the way back into the apartment.