Claire LaZebnik - Knitting Under the Influence

“Are you complaining?” Lucy said. “Because if it's too heavy for you, darling, I could be persuaded to carry it around a while.”

“Just don't expect to ever get it back, Kath,” Sari said. She tilted her face up to the sunlight. “Man, this is the life, isn't it?” They were sitting on beach chairs on the sand, the ocean booming and crashing just feet from their toes, the sun warm, the breeze soft, and the sky an intense turquoise blue. They wore bikinis and sarongs and were covered with sunscreen, floppy hats, and sunglasses.

Lucy sighed with pleasure and dug her toes into the sun-hot sand. “Kathleen, you are no idiot.”

“That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

“I can't believe Kevin actually owns this place,” Lucy said. “It's beautiful. It's beyond beautiful. It's what Eden would have been like if it hadn't been a garden, and I’ll take the ocean over some dumb flowers anyday. If you don't marry Kevin, I will.”

“I never knew you were so materialistic,” Kathleen said.

“I don't think it's materialistic to want this,” Lucy said. “The beach and all. I’m just appreciating nature.”

“A minute ago, you were appreciating her diamond,” Sari said. “Any more appreciation from you, and Kathleen better start looking over her shoulder. Especially now that you're back on the market.”

“I’m off the market again,” Lucy said. She lifted up her chin to let the breeze cool off her neck.

“You and James make up?” Kathleen said.

“No,” Lucy said.

Sari said, “She even destroyed the sweater.”

“She destroyed the sweater?” Kathleen said. “No one told me that.”

“I had to,” Lucy said. “It was a symbolic gesture.”

“I told you,” Kathleen said. “I told you not to knit a sweater for a boyfriend.”

“And I told you not to knit a bikini in hot pink.”

“Hey,” Kathleen said, flinging out her arms and posing like a catalogue model. “I think it looks pretty fucking fabulous on me.”

“I dare you to go in the water with it.”

“No way. As you just pointed out, I’m no idiot.” Kathleen relaxed back on the chair. “Anyway, the point is that I was right about the sweater.”

“Fine,” Lucy said. “You were right.”

“Which means you were wrong.”

“Whatever.”

“Say it. Say you were wrong. I just want to hear the words come out of your mouth. Have you ever admitted you were wrong? In your life?”

“Shut up.” Lucy kicked some sand in Kathleen's direction. “Don't you even want to know why I’m off the market again?”

“Of course,” Kathleen said. “What's going on?”

“I slept with David Lee last night,” Lucy said.

“With David Lee?” Kathleen repeated.

“My lab partner,” Lucy said. “The half-Jewish, half-Chinese guy you met at the walk.”

“I know who David Lee is,” Kathleen said. “That's why I’m confused.”

“Fuck you,” Lucy said. “I happen to like the way he looks.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Kathleen said. “I think he's adorable. I’m just having trouble processing it. Remember when you first started working together? You said he had a crush on you and you had to shut him down completely.”

“Things change,” Lucy said. “I changed.”

“I wasn't surprised,” Sari said. “I knew when he gave you that friggin’ cat that there was something going on between you two.”

“There wasn't, though,” Lucy said. “I was still with James then.”

“Maybe,” Sari said. “But the kitten definitely started something.”

“Yeah, I guess. It's weird, though.”

“What?” Kathleen said. She extended her right foot so she could admire her bright red toenail polish. She had gone out to get a manicure and pedicure that morning in preparation for the wedding and when she walked back in the house afterward, Lucy and Sari were there waiting for her. She was so surprised, she had screamed. Then they all screamed and hugged one another while Kevin beamed. “What's weird?”

“That someone can be right there and you don't think of him in any special way. And then suddenly you do think of him that way and it makes sense. Has that ever happened to either of you?”

“Does sixth grade count?” Sari asked. “Because I remember suddenly noticing Fidel Mateo in sixth grade, and we'd been in school together since kindergarten.”

“Before my time,” Lucy said. “So what happened with Fidel?”

“Coco Kronenberg was a big fat slut who stuffed her bra. That's what happened.” “His loss,” Lucy said.

Kathleen said suddenly, “Let's go to a hotel bar and get royally drunk. It's the night before my wedding, girls. I need to get wrecked.”

“What about Kevin?” Sari said.

Kathleen stood up. “He can stay home.” She picked up her beach chair and folded it. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll be stuck with him every night for the rest of my life.”

“That's so romantic,” Lucy said. “I may cry.”

Three hours and nine daiquiris later, they had achieved in triplicate Kathleen's goal of getting wrecked.

They had found the perfect hotel bar, one that was completely open to the beach so they could watch the sun set while they drank their first round of freezing-cold strawberry daiquiris. Then there were greasy appetizers and more strawberry daiquiris-tonight even Lucy was eating and drinking-while they watched the hotel staff blow conch shells and race around lighting gas torches all over the property in some ancient Polynesian torch-lighting ritual. Then there were hula dancers and more daiquiris.

They laughed and talked for hours, all three of them with their hair rough and wavy from thè salty ocean wind, their faces glowing from the sun they'd soaked in that afternoon and from the torchlight that fell on them now. They were dressed similarly in sleeveless cotton summer dresses and their bare legs were smooth above flat jeweled sandals. It was no wonder various guys all night long tried sending them drinks and stopping by their table. They took the drinks, sent back the men, and every one of them knew that this was one of those nights you remember forever, when the drinks are as cold and sweet as a childhood Popsicle but leave you reeling from a bitter punch that makes you glad you're an adult.

“So tell us about Kevin,” Sari said to Kathleen when the night sky was dark everywhere except where the torches fought back. “Tell us what you love about him, why you want to marry him. So if we ever meet the right guy, we'll know it's him.”

“I may have met him already,” Lucy said.

“All the more reason for you to shut up and listen.”

Kathleen took the tiny umbrella out of her drink and held it open above her head. “Look, it's raining,” she said, which seemed to strike her as incredibly funny.

“Come on,” Sari said, with the determination of the seriously drunk. “I want to know. Why do you love Kevin?”

“I don't,” Kathleen said. Then she said, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Of course I do. He's nice, don't you think? Have you ever met anyone nicer? Look how he flew you guys here just to surprise me. How nice was that?”

“He even paid for our tickets,” Lucy said. She let her head flop back against her chair. “He's a prince.”

“He's the prince,” Kathleen said. “Prince Charming.”

“Was he mad you wanted to go out alone with us tonight?” Lucy said.

“Of course not,” Kathleen said. She twirled the toothpick part of the umbrella between the palms of her hand, and the brightly colored paper spun until the colors all merged. “He doesn't get mad. Kevin doesn't get mad, he doesn't get upset, he doesn't get excited, he doesn't get anything.”