Real Men Knit

by Kwana Jackson

  She didn’t know what had made her walk out from the kitchen like she had, nor what had caused her to make her declaration in front of the brothers. It was as if she was hopped up on some sort of superwoman ego trip. Marching in there in the middle of the four Strong brothers and making her declaration like she was some sort of female supreme ruler. She shuddered. Just thinking about it gave her a slightly heady feeling. Still, she must have been out of her damned mind.

  Who knew? Maybe it was the emotion of the past week, the photos in the kitchen that morning, little Errol Miller, or maybe it was Jesse and those dammed body-hugging briefs. Either way, all of it worked together and put her in the uncomfortable position of not wanting to let go of her present life without at least some sort of fight.

  If only Mama Joy had had the same option. Kerry stilled as the memory of Jesse and his brothers arguing that morning came back to her. Who knew, maybe the dead woman did, in a weird, roundabout kind of way. Kerry felt it when she heard Jesse fighting so hard against his brothers and all their reservations. His strong words and fierce determination were what gave her the final bit of courage she needed to step out from the back of the shop and propel herself forward to the front.

  Still, she couldn’t help but have serious doubts. Doubts and at the same time a strange sense of hope. When she’d gone into the shop that morning, she’d thought the brothers would surely make the decision to close. That Jesse would be the main one behind that decision. To her, though she didn’t doubt his love for Mama Joy, he seemed the main one who would want to take his share of the proceeds, then cut and run. Go on to sunnier, possibly more beachy pastures. The type where the women were plentiful and wore fewer clothes in the winter months. Hearing him talk about Mama Joy and what she meant to them, as boys and as men—it touched her in the most profound way.

  The fact that Jesse still felt a connection to the shop and the more unbelievable fact that he’d rallied so fervently for the things that Mama Joy had worked so hard for stunned Kerry. She could admit it hit her hard. Harder than she ever expected. And, at the same time, it had softened her. Softened her toward Jesse in a way that she honestly didn’t want to be softened. In a way that probably wasn’t quite safe.

  It had her thinking about all the years she spent trying to ignore the feelings she had for him while she watched him flutter in and out of the shop on his way to meet this girl or hook up with that one. And it had her thinking of all the lost hours spent daydreaming about him as she mindlessly knit one, purled two and imagined him tangling his fingers between her own as he took the yarn from her hands and pulled her into a kiss.

  Ugh. What a dummy she was. Stupid girly dreams wasted on a boy who never even looked her way. And now here she was, a grown-ass woman and still in the same space, giving up her time for his dreams. She was sure once her mother got wind of the situation, she’d parrot back some form of those exact same words. Not that her mother had a leg to stand on, but still, it wasn’t a conversation Kerry was looking forward to.

  She let out a frustrated sigh as she opened the door to the community center. But then relief washed over her as the cool blast of air from the newly installed air conditioner hit her mercifully in the face. Maybe she’d just let that whole conversation wait as long as possible. She’d only committed to a short time at the shop, just long enough to get them on their feet, and after that she’d be free to pursue her own track. She might be on to another job by the time her mom was any the wiser.

  The sound of children’s laughter mixed with the occasional low conversation permeated Kerry’s ears as she made her way through the community center’s halls. A little girl came running out of one of the classrooms at top speed, her high pigtails bouncing. “Whoa! Slow down, Imara.” Kerry held up a cautious hand to the child. “You know running in the halls is not allowed,” she said softly though sternly.

  The little girl looked up at her with wide, dark eyes. “I’m sorry, Miss Kerry. But I really gotta go. I was holding it for so long before Mr. Watkins saw my hand.”

  Kerry nodded and stepped out of the girl’s way. “Okay, well then, be off with you. But take it slow and be careful.”

  “Yes, miss,” the girl said as she made her way down the hall, this time not running but shuffling at a fast run/walk pace.

  Kerry shook her head. Poor Imara. She probably really did have to go. Mr. Watkins was getting up there in age and was usually so focused on his set lesson plan that, honestly, he barely noticed when the kids were trying to grab his attention. He, along with many of the other teachers, desperately needed an assistant in the classroom for just that reason. But the center was happy to have teachers like Mr. Watkins, who, though they could have retired a few years back, stayed on to teach in the communities they knew and loved for the children who needed them the most.

  With the upcropping of charter schools that went year-round, the parents of the kids who went to public schools had been desperate to find ways to supplement, as best they could, their children’s learning. Hence this year-round after-school and summer learning center where Kerry worked part-time. It was one of the places she had considered moving on to since completing her degree—though she hated to admit that the lack of adequate compensation as compared to the private sector made it difficult to keep working there high on her list. She couldn’t stay on part-time forever, and as of now, there were no full-time positions open with the salary and benefits she needed to cover her rent. No matter how much she wanted to stick around, she still had to be somewhat practical. Yeah, rich from the woman who just volunteered to continue working at a knitting shop that will most likely close within three months. She shook her head at her own folly.

  Just then one of her coworkers, Alison, peeped her head out of her office. Alison was an ESL specialist and the assistant department program director. Everyone tried not to be too salty about the fact that she had achieved this title at twenty-four, but Alison on her best days made that challenging. Throwing off clearly non– New Yorker airs while using extravagant hand gestures that mimicked early-nineties B-boys and bordered on gang signs, she whined constantly about the problems in her whole-assed two-bedroom condo in a new building on 138th Street that used to be affordable housing but was no longer.

  “Hey, gurl!” Alison drawled, or said in what she believed passed for a drawl.

  Gurl?

  “Hello, Alison,” Kerry said, quickly screwing her face to look like she was both interested but also in a rush to get to her class.

  “How are you?” The drawl switched to a pout as she jutted out her arms as if she wanted Kerry to come in for a hug.

  Kerry looked at her and blinked. Today, Alison wore a linen one-piece jumper that was about three sizes too big for her slim frame with a tiny yellow tee underneath emblazoned with an owl wearing huge glasses. Her brown hair was center parted and plaited into two French braids. Kerry and her friend Val had previously had to politely explain that No, ma’am, they should not be called boxer braids. She looked more like a summer camp CIT than anybody’s director of anything, but whatever. Alison waved her hands and Kerry realized they were still outstretched. Kerry nodded and, instead of a hug, coughed, and watched Alison’s hands go down.

  “Are you okay? I didn’t expect you today with the funeral and all. I thought you’d take the week. I was prepared to cover for you.”

  I’m sure Val would have loved that, Kerry thought, thinking of her friend who she often co-taught with.

  “Thanks so much. But I’m good. Or I will be. I appreciate the concern and the offer of help. Now I’d better get to class to set up.”

  Alison nodded as she poked her bottom lip out farther. “All right then, but let’s do drinks soon. We are neighbors and all.”

  Kerry screwed her good face on tight. “Yeah, that we are.”

  Alison grinned. “Harlem world!” she whooped as Kerry caught sight of Emily, Alison’s assistant and another ES
L specialist—well, the real ESL specialist, who grimaced and gave Kerry an apologetic look.

  Poor Emily, Kerry thought. First, there was the fact that despite funding and the need for specialists in the classrooms, she’d been saddled with the job as assistant to Alison, which essentially meant she did all the real work that Alison failed to cover in the classroom. And on top of that, Emily being the nice—maybe too nice—white person with a diversity-challenged boss, she felt the need to constantly apologize for said diversity train wreck. It was as if the woman walked around with a constant but silent “I’m with Stupid” tee on.

  Kerry gave her a “Stay strong” look to counter her “I’m so sorry for this disaster” lip bite before continuing down the hall.

  “Harlem world! So we’re doing that today?” Kerry’s best friend, partner in crime, homegirl and all that came with it, Valencia Gibson, said as Kerry walked into the arts and crafts room.

  “Oh stop, she tries,” Kerry said.

  “You stop. It’s not as if you were not thinking the same thing,” Val responded. “That Lil Miss Sweet act can fool some of the girls, but not this one.”

  Kerry smiled, but her eyes rolled to the ceiling, betraying her true thoughts. “You got me. Yeah, Harlem world by way of Stamford. I so cannot.”

  “But Ms. CIT did have a point with asking what you’re doing here today. What’s the deal? I would have covered for you. Even if I had to deal with her. You didn’t have to come in.”

  “I told you I’d try and come in today. I knew it would be busy and the kids would be riled up after returning from swimming. I didn’t want to leave you shorthanded,” Kerry said, storing her bag in the drawer on the side of the desk.

  Val frowned, the small furrow barely wrinkling her smooth mocha-toned skin. Still she continued with what she was doing, sorting construction paper by color to prepare for the next project before the kids came in. “Sure, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it. With today being the day after the funeral and all. I know how close you were with Mama Joy. Plus, I thought you’d be helping out over there, getting them straight.”

  There was a pause, and Kerry could practically feel Val’s wheels turning. Kerry knew her friend would have plenty to say when she found out about Kerry staying on at the shop, and honestly, she didn’t know what side of the fence Val would be on. Either way she’d be sure to give Kerry an earful.

  Val continued. “She sure will be missed. The kids are so disappointed they won’t have the occasional trips to her shop anymore or their knitting sessions with the two of you.”

  “I was already over there this morning doing what I could,” Kerry said. “And the children shouldn’t give up hope just yet.” She moved to help sort and lay out colored pencils.

  Val’s brows went impossibly higher, arching even more suggestively as her full lips twisted up with a smirk. “Oh, were you now? Over there this mor-ning.” She was busy accentuating her words, then suddenly stopped when she caught on to the rest of what Kerry had said. “What do you mean not give up hope?”

  Kerry shook her head but couldn’t help the quirk in her lip. She was used to getting teased by Val about her work in the shop. It was mildly annoying, but right now she’d take mildly annoying over hugs and sympathy. She’d had enough of that over the past week and plenty of it heaped on her yesterday. She’d seen enough tears and shed more than she thought possible herself over the death of Mama Joy, so right now, even teasing from Val was a welcome distraction. But still, maybe she should have kept the hope comment to herself until she’d squared it all in her mind and double-confirmed with Jesse that the shop would remain open. “No need to get all twisty,” she said, trying to keep her voice matter of fact. “You know it’s nothing like that.”

  “Nothing like what?” Val asked, doing her quick-witted loose-thread-finding thing and giving it a tug. “If it was nothing like that, then you wouldn’t know what that I was talking about. But since you know what that I am talking about, then I’m going to assume that that must have clearly crossed your mind.” Valencia gave her body a little shake. Today that body was clad in stretch jeans rolled at the ankle and a flowing blouse that did little to hide her shapely figure, but Kerry was sure Val thought it was demure enough to be considered downright churchy for a teacher.

  “I’m talking about the that that you’re talking about. And that that has not crossed my mind,” Kerry said, then frowned at her outright lie as the image of Jesse in his underwear flashed in her mind. She waved her hand in front of her face. “What are we talking about anyway? This is getting silly.”

  Val laughed. “Well, it’s good to see you smile either way.” Her friend’s expression got serious as she looked Kerry in the eye. “I know how hard this has been for you, and I know it’s going to be a long road, but I hope to see you smile more in the future. It will take time, but you will get through this.” Val got a wistful look as her eyes went slightly skyward. “Lord knows I’m still overdue to take my time with my grandmother.”

  Kerry stepped forward and gave her friend a hug. Val had lost her grandmother two years before, and though for the most part she continued to soldier on with a smile and a wink, Kerry knew how hard the loss was on her. “I know, hon, I know.”

  But in true Val form, her friend quickly shimmied out of her embrace and looked up at her. “So, tell me, were all the brothers in attendance today? Over there being just as wickedly fine as they ought not to be?”

  Kerry cocked her head to the side, then continued walking around the classroom as she placed colored pencils down. “They were and they are,” she gritted out.

  “Woman, you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Well—” Kerry paused, looking at Val cautiously. “I’m not sure it’s a good thing. Not the ‘fine’ part. That’s neither here nor there.”

  “Well, they can put it over here. Any of them and all of it. Especially that Lucas—or is it Noah, or maybe it’s Damian? Oh, what do I care? Either, any or all of them will do—” Val interrupted herself. “But are you talking about the fact that they’ve made decisions on the shop? Sorry, hon, but you knew that was coming. Without Ms. Joy—well, even with her—how long did you expect the shop to go on?”

  Kerry twisted her lip as she heard the sound of their kids coming up the hall. She knew that in a matter of moments they’d be inundated with the clamor of thirty-four children bearing down on them, ready to take part in the creative assignment of the day. She looked at Val and decided to blurt it out. “That’s just it. They are not closing the shop. At least not yet. They decided to try to keep it going for a while. Jesse convinced them of it.”

  Val paused in her work and looked up at Kerry with a shocked expression. “Jesse? Lazy Jesse?”

  “Hey, that’s not fair.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean ‘lazy.’ How’s this: ‘fine as hell but chronically without gainful employment’ Jesse?”

  “He keeps a job!”

  “Not a steady one. How did he convince them to keep the shop open? Now, I know you’ve been pining for him since you’ve been old enough to get your pine on, but come on. Let’s get real. Doesn’t he seem like the most unlikely candidate? He is the one who’s always fluttering from this project to that, not to mention from this woman to that. He doesn’t seem the type to want to settle down with the running of a knitting shop. How did he convince his brothers?” Val asked.

  Kerry let out a long breath and gave Val a hard look. With anyone else she probably could have argued Jesse’s case, but she knew she couldn’t bullshit Val. Might as well just get it out. Besides, she could hear the kids getting closer. “He told them he’d be able to make a go of it as long as he had some help,” Kerry said with as much conviction as she could muster.

  Right then the class started to file in and take their seats. Kerry smiled as she pointedly ignored Val. She gave the kids directions to not start drawing until the
y were properly advised of today’s assignment—which was a waste, since three were already at it.

  She was just about to admonish one but practically jumped out of her skin when Val suddenly appeared behind her with a hard tap on her shoulder, causing her to turn around and face her friend eye to eye.

  “Help, huh?” Val arched her left brow high.

  “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Kerry said, wanting to look anywhere except for into her friend’s shrewd eyes. She watched as those eyes narrowed.

  “Just like I said, each one of them finer than they ought to be. You’d better watch out, Kerry Girl.”

  Kerry rolled her eyes. How was “Kerry Girl” suddenly taking off as the catchphrase of the day when she was a good and grown-assed woman?

  5

  Jesse was once again left alone with nothing but the silence of the shop, and it terrified him. He took a swig from his beer and noted the taste was more bitter than smooth. Why did he even open his big mouth about keeping the shop going in the first place? He looked around, taking in the dream, the legacy that was everything Mama Joy. Floor-to-ceiling wood shelves overflowing with colorful yarn, sourced from where, he didn’t know, but he did know that it was from all over and it would now be his job trying to figure out the wheres, the hows and the whys.

  Shit. Where would he even begin?

  He looked up at the loft where the patterns were kept and hanks of wool were spun into balls and thought of all the times he’d run up there as a kid to hide out when he’d done something wrong. He laughed at the thought but coughed on it as it got stuck halfway. Not that his hiding ever worked. Mama Joy knew every nook and cranny of this old building. And there wasn’t a spot in it where he or his brothers could hide if she really wanted to find them. Sure, sometimes she’d humor them. Let them have their moments thinking they’d gotten away with something, but really it was only time enough for them to sweat and stew about what they’d done and possibly get hungry enough to smell whatever deliciousness she had conjured up for dinner. More times than not, they’d come out on their own and take their punishment, whatever that may be, knowing it was well deserved and somehow grateful that she cared enough to dish it out anyway. There were plenty of others who wouldn’t waste the time or, worse, would take the swift route with a hard smack or a quick kick.