Real Men Knit

by Kwana Jackson

  Mr. Webb smiled and held out his hand. “Please call me Gabriel.” His voice was rumbly and deep.

  And upon hearing it, Imara turned and jumped from her seat. “Daddy! You’re here!”

  Both Kerry and Val went wide-eyed as Gabriel Webb’s smile went even more cinematic and lethal and he accepted Imara’s hug around his waist, giving her a big squeeze in return. What star had this one fallen from? “I told you I would be.”

  “Yeah, I know you did, but I still didn’t think you really would,” she said with a huge smile. “I’m glad.” It was then that Kerry saw the similarities. They had the same deep-set eyes, chestnut coloring and bright smiles. She looked to Imara’s dad’s left hand. Nope. No ring, though. Not that it told the whole story, but still it was interesting.

  He looked from Kerry to Val, then back down at Imara. “You want to introduce me to your teachers?” he said.

  She grinned. “Sure. This is Miss Val. She teaches us art and she’s a great singer and dancer. She’s also good with puzzles too. And hair braiding! She’s fixed me up a few times when grandma was busy or running late,” the young girl said in a lower tone.

  Linda’s face went slightly twisted but Val just smiled at Gabriel. It was suspiciously shy, bordering on coy. “It was nothing,” she said softly.

  “Well, it seems like it was something big to Imara.”

  Val shrugged, which was so uncharacteristically not her, since she was usually front and center ready to take her praise, or better yet she’d have something to say to this dad, giving him tips on hair and how to get it done.

  Imara turned toward Kerry. “Miss Kerry is really good at lots of things. She’s great with color and really great with yarn. She can crochet and even knit. Can you believe that? She’s the one who works at the yarn shop I told you about.”

  “Is she now?” he said with a voice full of wonder, though the bit of information didn’t call for so much wonderment. Kerry had to give it to Imara, she’d be a wiz at matchmaking and making introductions. The little girl was a natural.

  Just then Alison came in. Today she was wearing farmer’s overalls and had her hair done up in box braids. She’d gelled her edges down to Instagram perfection and had a bright pink bandana topping off the look. Imara looked at her with wide eyes and waved a hand. “And that’s Mizz Ali. She likes to be called Mizz Ali.” She turned and went back to her seat, intros over.

  Linda looked at Alison and blinked. She gave her a quick introduction to Gabriel Webb but kept it about as short as little Imara’s and left. Her displeasure over Alison’s appearance was clear. They didn’t have much of a dress code at the center, it being casual and a summer season, but Alison did take things to the limit when it came to professionalism and her position. But what did it matter? She had her position, and that was the bottom line.

  But the question remained—what was Gabriel Webb, Imara’s father, doing there, and why was he shadowing Linda? When they left, Kerry, Val and Alison looked at each other.

  “I hear he and the mother are over. Been over. He used to work out of town, but he’s back because the mother was a bit of a train wreck,” Alison whispered in a voice that wasn’t near whispery enough.

  Kerry looked around the classroom. “You mind shutting it, please?” Thankfully Imara was on the other side of the class, but still, she didn’t need the teachers talking about her home life like this.

  “Oh yes, sure, you’re right,” Alison said. She began to walk out of the class, but turned back toward Kerry and Val. “One more thing though.”

  “What is it, Fanny Farmer?” Val said, clearly done with her.

  Alison laughed. “I call dibs!” And she practically ran out of the classroom, the kids all looking after her.

  Val sucked in a breath. “The hell she does,” Val said through clenched teeth.

  Kerry looked at Val, whose brown cheeks were purpling. “Hold on, girl. You don’t know that man, and remember, you’re at work.” Kerry barely held back on her laughter.

  Val glared at her. “The man doesn’t matter. He was just okay. It’s the principle of it all. And I won’t be on the clock after three, now, will I?”

  “Lord help our lil Fanny Farmer! She’d better watch out.”

  18

  Coming back into the shop that afternoon, Kerry was surprised to see that it wasn’t technically closed. Yes, the sign on the door was flipped to the closed position, but Mrs. Hamilton, Ms. Diaz, Ms. June, Ms. Cherry and Sister Purnell were all there and gathered around the table knitting away as if it was their normal Monday Old Knitting Gang circle and Mama Joy would come out of the kitchen and join them at any moment. Kerry greeted each of them with smiles and hugs, and looked at Jesse with questioning eyes when he surprised her by walking out from the kitchen area with a tray of mugs.

  He gave Kerry a smile and an easy shrug, but his look of panic was clearly evident. And she thought she picked up on an edge of relief.

  They weren’t due to open again for at least another week or two. What were these women doing here, knitting and crocheting among the half-cleared shelves and chaos as if it was a normal day?

  “Oh, stop with the looks, you two,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “We know we’re being intrusive—taking liberties comes with age and all. Stop acting like it’s so big a deal and get comfortable.” She gave Kerry a wide smile then, softening her expression and making her already round face that much rounder. “I was about to head over to B’s place,” she said, talking about Ms. June, who was often referred to as Junie B. Her full name, Kerry had yet to catch in all the years she’d known her. Mrs. Hamilton continued, “When I passed by here and saw that Jesse wasn’t doing much of anything but shifting boxes back and forth.”

  Jesse raised a finger. “Um, I was doing a little more than that, Mrs. Hamilton.”

  She raised her brow at him. “Were you now, dear?”

  He tilted his head. “Okay, maybe not that much more.”

  She turned back to Kerry as if he’d hardly spoken. Jesse would learn quickly that he’d gotten off lightly with that little exchange. “And,” she said exaggeratedly, “when I asked Jesse what he was up to, he said he was making plans for some sort of big reopening.” She made a pfft sound. “Making plans. Well, I figured while he was making plans, we could still have our usual circle here. B’s place is the only spot big enough to hold us all, but her elevators are iffy at best, and you know Elena can’t do stairs.”

  “That’s the truth. My arthritis stays working on me,” Ms. Diaz said. She was a petite older women who, though she said she couldn’t do stairs, Kerry had seen elbow and just about tackle more formidable women for the best whiting at the fish market. Their excuse was dubious at best and if questioned on cross-examination would easily crumble. Not that she—or Jesse, from the looks of him—was up to questioning this crew.

  “Plus, I brought my carrot cake,” Ms. June added with a wide grin, as if that would make the intrusion all better.

  Kerry looked down at the carrot cake. Maybe it kind of would. As far as placations went, a person could do worse than Ms. June’s carrot cake. Her baking was out of this world. She actually sold her cakes by the slice to some of the local businesses and made some decent extra money on the side. Kerry swallowed, suddenly hungry.

  “We won’t stay in your way long,” Ms. June continued.

  “It’s no bother at all,” Kerry said, and Jesse coughed. She shot him a look.

  “No, you’re not in the way at all. You ladies make yourselves comfortable,” he added as he handed the cups around.

  “Thank you, and we will, dear,” Mrs. Hamilton said as her eyes shifted between her friends. “Besides, we were thinking that although you’re closed and renovating”—she looked around at the boxes on the floor—“as it is, we thought it would still be good for folks to see some things going on in the shop every once in a while. Let the hawks know you ma
y be down but you’re definitely not out. Don’t want the vultures to start circling.”

  “What, have you been talking to my brother?” Jesse mumbled.

  There was a chuckle at that from Ms. Cherry. She paused in her knitting. “No, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t heard things. About vultures and all.”

  Kerry was going in on the carrot cake but now gave full attention to Ms. Cherry. What was really going on here?

  Jesse suddenly looked more serious. Ms. Cherry smiled. “Don’t look so worried, Jesse. I’m sure you and your brothers can handle a little bank loan. You’ll be just fine.” Ms. Cherry was a tall woman with chestnut brown skin and closely cropped, dyed honey-blond hair. As a retired corrections officer, she came off at first brush as abrasive, but always surprised with her unexpected sweetness. Her tone was no nonsense, and when she spoke one was inclined to believe her. But what was this about a loan, and why did the OKG know about it and Kerry did not? Kerry frowned and was about to ask when Ms. Cherry turned to her, switching away from the loan subject altogether. “So, what is this we hear about you staying here?” she asked suddenly.

  And with that sweet came a bit of spice.

  Kerry paused in her chewing. Dang it. Just when the cake was getting good too. She swallowed. “I, um, ran into a problem at my place.”

  Ms. Cherry nodded. “We heard.” She took a sip of her coffee. Black with extra sugar. “You stay on that landlord of yours. I don’t trust that management company.”

  “Or any company, for that matter,” Ms. June chimed in.

  “Why should I?” Ms. Cherry said. “I haven’t found one yet that can be trusted. Bunch of thieving bastards. The lot of them if you ask me.” She picked up the cute little knitted hedgehog she was finishing off and scrunched her nose up at it. She sucked her teeth, then gave it a smile. Kerry shook her head. That was Ms. Cherry. The queen of contradictions. The little hedgehog would end up in a Christmas gift bag this season along with a pair of the crochet slippers that the women would all make for their annual Angel Tree drive for some of the children whose parents were incarcerated. Kerry usually helped too and knew she would once again, now hoping she’d be able to knit faster to make up for Mama Joy’s allotted pieces. It was surprisingly sad how the number of requested gifts never seemed to go down each year, only up, and even though Ms. Cherry had been retired for the past five years, she hadn’t slowed in her mission of bringing awareness to this cause.

  But still Kerry wanted to go back to the subject of the loan.

  “So,” Ms. Diaz said. “You two been keeping busy here?” Seriously, could they go back to the subject of the loan?

  Kerry looked to Jesse, and he cleared his throat. “We have. Ma’am.”

  Really? That was his answer? Was he really not going to say anything about the store’s debt? She shot him a glare.

  He indicated the boxes strewed around the space. “As you can see, the place is in a bit of disarray, but I don’t expect it to be like this for long. I’ll have it set to rights pretty quick.” He looked to Kerry for help, and everyone turned her way.

  She let out a breath. Fine, she’d play along. “Yes, we should be up and running in no time. Jesse has some great ideas.”

  They all nodded politely, or as politely as they could while quietly judging, but Sister Purnell frowned. “I hope you don’t plan on changing too much. Joy had a right nice flow in here. It was perfect as it was.”

  “Oh no, don’t worry,” Kerry said, “it won’t change all that much. Just some updates. Jesse has a great eye. You’ll love it.”

  Sister Purnell gave her a hard look. “And what about you?”

  Kerry paused. “What about me?”

  “What sort of ideas do you have? A young woman like you. Last I remember you were interviewing and still looking for something permanent over there at the center. I hear things may be shifting in that direction.”

  Kerry frowned. “Really? I, um, hadn’t heard that.” Damn this Old Knitting Gang. But if Sister Purnell had heard something, there had to be something brewing. She wouldn’t go dropping a bit of news without anything to back it up. Besides, Linda had been in the office today, and she had still been there when Kerry left, in addition to Imara’s father showing up. Maybe she ought to dress up a bit when she went in tomorrow.

  “I’m just saying. It’s great you’re helping out here, and Joy would be terribly grateful, but you know she and your mama were thrilled about you finally getting that degree,” Sister Purnell said.

  “Not to mention you’re not getting any younger,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “Don’t you think it’s time to really get out there in the world? You’re not going to find any marriageable men holed up here in this shop.”

  Kerry shook her head and laughed. “Mrs. Hamilton, it’s not like I’m on the shelf or anywhere near over the hill. Besides, who’s looking for marriage? You don’t have to worry about me in that area.”

  Kerry glanced over at Jesse. His face had gone dark, his eyes deepening in coloring along with his expression as he looked at her. She felt her brows pull tight. But then he blinked and smiled at her as he picked up the hat he’d been working on that morning. She noticed it was nearly done. “That’s what I keep telling her,” he said. “But she knows what a hopeless case I am and thankfully insists on helping me out.” He smiled at the women as he took a seat at the head of the table and started to knit. But Kerry could see the tension in his shoulders. She noticed how he threw his yarn. None of his movements were as easygoing or nearly as smooth as they had been that morning before she’d left for work. He looked at her once again. “You can rest assured, ladies, that as soon as we’re on our feet, I’ll be sure to send our Kerry Girl packing and out into the world where she belongs.”

  * * *

  Jesse couldn’t get the words of the Old Knitting Gang out of his mind that night. He did his best to smile, be congenial and polite, do all the things that Mama Joy would have wanted. As he moved more boxes to the back of the storage area, he hummed to himself and tried his best to drown out their voices. Not do his old negative self-talk. He could practically hear Mama Joy in his ear shouting over his shoulder. “Come on, Jes, you gonna let the words define you, or are you going to define yourself?” She’d drilled that into him again and again over the years, so much so that he’d almost gotten this close to believing her. Maybe if she’d held on just a little bit longer, he would have.

  He put the box down and looked around the storage area that was quickly becoming its own problem. Maybe if he’d held on to her a little longer, he’d have actually started to live the words. But it was too late now. The fact remained that Kerry did have a chance to live the words and he was holding her back.

  The Old Lady Gang didn’t happen there by chance today. Jesse had no doubt they’d planned to come there after his encounter with Sister Purnell at the bodega. No, he didn’t doubt they did have some concern for him. And that concern was serious. The fact that they knew about the loan was a blow. How they knew was anybody’s guess. Did Mama Joy tell them, or was it that their neighborhood spy net was more organized than he thought?

  The worst of it though was the way they bomb-dropped it right in front of Kerry. He saw her face and hated seeing the hurt in her eyes as she put the pieces together. Maybe he should have told her about the loan right away, but why burden her with more than he already had? It wasn’t fair as it was. That much was clear. Just as it was clear the way the Old Knitting Gang was closing ranks and putting up a pretty solid line of defense around Kerry to make sure she had some line of protection in the midst of the lion’s den.

  They were right though—Kerry needed to think about her future beyond the shop. Settling down, and settling down with someone worth settling down with. A corporate type, not a fuck-’em-and-leave-’em, no-ambition screwup, can’t-be-relied-on type like him.

  He let out a sigh. It was better to not think a
bout it. Or at the least drink and forget about it. But how could he do that when all that was in his mind and his space was her? Like right now she was there. Just upstairs cleaning up and preparing to go to the residence, where she would be just down the hall from him for the night. All night.

  Jesse’s phone buzzed. Pulling it out of his pocket, he looked down and saw he was right.

  You gonna be long down there? WE NEED TO TALK.

  Shit. She wasn’t one to give up easily. He put the phone back in his pocket.

  The idea of drinking and forgetting now held that much more appeal. His phone vibrated again, and this time it was Ziggy. He and Craig were at Club Dionysus and calling him out.

  20 at the door but Big Mike is on it so we’re good.

  Jesse stared at the message. A comped cover was tempting, and he did want to go out. Plus, the idea of an evening at home with Kerry so near seemed like more than he could handle.

  How’s the energy? He texted as he walked back into the main room of the shop and flipped the overhead lights off. When he did so, the back-kitchen light stayed on and he suddenly heard the sound of Kerry humming in the kitchen as she washed the leftover cups from earlier.

  His phone buzzed. It’s a Monday but there are a few prospects here.

  Kerry came out of the kitchen then. He couldn’t quite make out her features fully, backlit as she was by the kitchen light, but still his heart did a flip when she looked at him and smiled, her even teeth glowing. Eyes shining even through her glasses.

  He looked back at his phone and typed.

  Nah I’m good. I’ll pass.

  She must have caught his expression because her smile quickly faded. “You okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.” Of course, he wasn’t, but he wouldn’t tell her that. She’d been shouldering enough of his burden for him. It was time for him to pull his own weight. Besides, just like the women had not-too-stealthily expressed, he didn’t want to do anything that would make her feel like she needed to hang around here any longer than necessary. Once she had her apartment back, even if he still needed her in the shop, he didn’t want her to feel any qualms about leaving.