Unraveled (Woodlands)

by Frederick, Jen

  Carrie took my resettling by her side as an invitation and pressed one hand behind my neck and slid the other across my chest. It was an embrace, and she was marking me with her stupid perfume. I'd have to shower and then wash these clothes. I wanted to pick her up and carry her to the door but I wasn't ever going to touch her again.

  "I don't know why you're here or what you want but you need to leave." I held myself stiff in her embrace so she could tell I did not want her touching me, much like I didn't want her touching anything in my home.

  "Baby," she whispered in my ear, her minty breath wafting by my nose. "I miss you so much."

  That was it. I stood up, uncaring about the knitting needle and only wanting her to leave.

  "I don't miss you and I haven't for some time. Yes, I am seeing someone else and I care about her a lot. You need to leave now," I repeated.

  She moved and then, as anticipated, scraped her leg along the needle. "Ouch, what is that?" She stood and lifted the cushion and found my mess of dark blue yarn under the couch.

  "Oh my God." She crushed the mess against her chest. Shit, could I wash yarn? I strode over and yanked it out of her hands and threw it on a nearby chair.

  "Get out," I repeated and pointed at the door.

  "Did I turn you gay?" she cried.

  "What?" Following her train of thought was like trying to keep track of a jumping bean.

  "Did I turn you gay?" she asked again, trying to look sad but secretive pleasure flirted at the corners of her mouth. God, what did I ever find attractive about this woman? "When I had that fling with Lieutenant Maritz, did you turn to guys? Oh my God, Gray, tell me it isn't so!"

  As if she could turn me gay. Was she fucking nuts? I shook my head at her presumptuousness. "You’re a dumb woman, Carrie. It doesn’t work that way. And guess what? I don't care what you think my sexual preference is as long as you understand it isn't you."

  Carrie swayed over to me, swinging her skinny hips in an action that might've turned me on four years ago but now just looked like she had a weird hitch in her step. I swung the door open so she could take that hitch right on outside but she paused in front of me. The courtyard was occupied by a few people, but no one that looked like Sam. It was probably the first time in months that I'd been relieved I hadn't had a Sam sighting. Every other night I'd glance out there, hoping I'd see her come up the walk. No dice. But with Carrie standing far too close to me, I was glad that Sam was thousands of miles away.

  "I'm glad I stopped by, Gray. I had this feeling that you needed me. You've been on my mind, and when I went down to the Enlisted Club and didn't see you, I was concerned. I'm glad I followed my instincts and came here." Carrie reached out a manicured finger and ran the tip down the front of my T-shirt.

  The sad fact was that I had allowed Carrie to turn me off of women. I started mistrusting all of them because of her stupid behavior. I'd stopped thinking in terms of relationships. I'd only thought they were good for fucking and not much more. If the med student treated me like a human dildo it was because that's about how much emotion I'd put into it.

  Sam was right. I had grieved and I was bitter. And I needed to let it all go.

  "Thanks for your offer, but I'm not interested." How many times did I have to say that before she left? Carrie stepped even closer and the scent of her perfume made my stomach churn. I really needed her out of there and she clearly wasn't going on her own accord. Placing a hand on her chest, I stalled her progress and started sliding her out the door, slowly so not as to cause injury. I held both her biceps and easily lifted her over the threshold. The shock of it made her immobile for a minute and I was able to shut and then lock the door.

  The yarn, needles, and mangled blue material looked like a nasty collection of fibers. I didn't have the time or patience tonight. Carrie knocked on the door but I ignored her, turning up the television louder to drown out her profanities. I left the TV and the knitting and went into the bedroom. Two beers and five instructional knitting videos on the iPad later, I went to sleep with renewed hope. One day closer to my End of Active Service date and one day closer to being with Sam.

  "I REALLY NEED TO SEE you. Can you fit me in?" I begged. There was the sound of flipping pages as Dorothy looked through her appointment book.

  "Can you be here in thirty minutes?" Dorothy asked.

  "Yes." I jumped up and started stuffing my paraphernalia in my pack.

  "I'll only have a little time for you in between my class," she warned.

  "I'll take whatever you have. I just need to see you." I hung up before she could tell me no. Grabbing my pack, I looked twice to see if there was anyone I knew outside, and then sprinted to my truck. The drive to the shop was thirty minutes. I made it in twenty-five.

  "Sergeant Phillips," a delighted squeal greeted me from Dorothy's mother. I leaned down and hugged the tiny German woman, placing a kiss on her parchment-thin skin.

  "Hey, Mrs. Bend, good to see you."

  Mrs. Bend dragged me over to the sofa in the back corner and tugged at my pack. I let her have it. The expression on her face was one of dismay as she pulled out the mess I'd made of the yarn I'd bought two weeks ago at her daughter's yarn shop. "What've you done, my dear boy?"

  "Mrs. B, pardon my language, but this shit is hard." I tugged at one of the stray yarn threads that dangled off the needles. "I can sew on a patch or a button or even darn a hole in my sock if necessary, but this is beyond me."

  Mrs. B flipped the knitted mess over a couple of times. Her purple fingernail pointed at a small white splotch in the middle. "And this is?" she asked.

  "It's the star, Mrs. B." I leaned back and drew a hand over my face in frustration. "I'm never going to figure this out."

  "Now, now, no need for that." She laid the yarn mess in my lap. "You'll have to take it apart though and restart. Let me watch you for a while to see if I can pinpoint where you’re going wrong."

  As I unraveled the yarn Mrs. B asked, "Are you sure you want to start with the intarsia technique? It's quite difficult."

  I nodded grimly. "You know the story, Mrs. B." I'd told Mrs. B and her daughter Dorothy the whole sad saga of my relationship with Sam and how I'd fucked it all up. Mrs. B patted my arm. This was my grand gesture. I was going to knit Sam an afghan and take it to her the next time I had a three-day leave, which might not be before my contract ran out if my CO had anything to say about it.

  “Well, I think this is very sweet and if it doesn’t win her back, then I have a wonderful grandniece over in Sausilito. She’s a nurse and you two would get along great.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. B.” Never going to happen, I thought, but I just gave Mrs. B a smile and tried to figure out when I was supposed to bring in the opposite colored yarn. Because I was paying such close attention to her, I almost missed the commotion at the front of the store that stirred up when Hamilton and Ruiz from my platoon burst in.

  "What're you guys doing here?” I asked suspiciously. Quickly, I moved the yarn stuff to the side and pretended like I was just relaxing. On a sofa in a yarn shop. With Mrs. B sitting right next to me.

  “What are you doing here?” Hamilton scanned the shop in disbelief. “Is this a store for old ladies?”

  “No, you dumbass, it’s a yarn store.” Given that everyone else in the shop was likely over fifty, I could see how Hamilton made that error. “What’re you doing here?” I repeated. Standing up, I glowered at both of them.

  "We followed you.”

  "What the hell!” I practically shouted it out. Mrs. B made a clucking sound of disappointment. “Sorry, Mrs. B.”

  "We heard a rumor." Hamilton lowered his voice but he was a drill instructor and the low voice of a DI is pretty much normal tone for anyone else. "You leaving the Corps because you want to knit? How come you can’t do both?”

  “I’m guessing that Carrie’s saying I'm not re-upping for another contract because being near one of you and not having you is too painful for me. Which of you is the lucky guy?"
>
  Ruiz jerked this thumb toward Hamilton.

  “I’m a pretty tempting package.” Hamilton smoothed a hand down his shirt. “I do tend to drive the ladies wild. Good to know my animal magnetism affects the lads in equal measure.”

  Ruiz looked upset and near bursting with something to say.

  “What is it, Ruiz?”

  "Why not me instead of Hamilton? Don't you think I'm attractive? Fun to be with?"

  We both stared open mouthed at Ruiz. Hamilton recovered first. “Dude, what?”

  Ruiz looked offended. "Just wondering why Hamilton?"

  “Oh Jesus H. Ruiz, really?” I ran my hand over my recently shorn head.

  “Yeah, I mean he's not better looking than me.”

  “That's not what your mom said last night, Ruiz,” Hamilton shot back, offended that Ruiz thought that he was better looking.

  I shook my head. Of all the comments Ruiz could make. Throwing my arm around the smaller guy, I said, “Ruiz, you’re just too short for me.” And then I thought about Sam and her small frame, which fit me just fine. “Plus.” I dropped my voice low enough so just Ruiz and Hamilton could hear. “Hamilton’s got a small dick and I’m the only one who doesn’t care about that.”

  “Fuck you, Phillips. My dick is just fine. Your sister…”

  “I don’t have a sister, fuckwad,” I cut in, forgetting about where we were. "You assholes. Knitting has fuck all to do with sex.”

  Dorothy came over with a big-ass frown on her face and I felt horrible. “Sorry, Dorothy, forgot where we were.”

  She shook her head and gestured toward the door. “Why don’t you go outside and finish your profanity-laced sex discussion there?"

  “Sorry.” Abashed, I started out the door. I’d have to bring a big arrangement of flowers or something next time so that Dorothy and her mom would let me back into the store. Ruiz and Hamilton shuffled behind me, mumbling, “Sorry ma’am” to everyone as we walked out.

  "No, don't let them leave," another lady cried out.

  "God, no. Who cares what they’re saying? We haven't had such eye candy in here since the last Lion trunk show."

  "Oh, honey, if you're comparing yarn to this, you need to get out more."

  "You're right. Hot young Marines just don't measure up to Lion yarn,” the other woman shot back sarcastically.

  Once outside I realized I’d forgotten my knitting. Thankfully Mrs. B stuck her head out the door and handed me my pack. "You're improving. Come back next week and I'll help you again."

  "Thanks, Mrs. B.” I took the bag.

  "Don't forget, the color switch happens in the back. Trap the yarn, dear, in the back."

  Hamilton and Ruiz started snickering. Mrs. B gave us a cheery wave and I stomped off to my truck without looking back. I could hear the dickwads clumping behind me like they were going on a march.

  "In the back." Hamilton and Ruiz roared.

  Later that evening, Hamilton came over.

  "You think this is the most girlie thing ever?" I gestured with my needles. Hamilton took a long swig of his beer and then watched me fumble with the yarn for a few rows.

  "Maybe if you were any good at it."

  "I think my fingers are too big."

  "That's what the ladies tell me too."

  Shaking my head, I eyed the pattern Mrs. B had drawn for me to see how crappy the next few inches should look.

  Hamilton offered his own assessment. "Looks like a piece of dog crap if he ate the yarn, got the runs and then shit it out."

  "Thanks, man." I threw it down. "Fuck. What am I doing?"

  "Don't know. What are you doing?"

  "Why do we fight, Hamilton?"

  "To protect our country, preserve freedoms, uphold the honor of the Corps."

  "But what's the point of all that?"

  "Regular access to prime pussy?"

  “God. No.” I rubbed my head. But truthfully I had gotten it into my head that Sam would forgive me if she could see how much effort I was expending on her behalf. Did it make sense? In my confused, fucked-up mind it did. Sighing, I said, “Close enough." I picked up the needles again.

  "So knitting is the same as being in the Corps?”

  "Close enough,” I mumbled again and set to work once more.

  Samantha

  I PULLED UP TO THE Anderson house. It was a large brick monstrosity. I think about five families could have fit into the Anderson home but it housed only two people now—David and Carolyn. I guess that's why it was so easy for them to remain married despite the fact that they didn't really care about each other. They spent weeks without seeing each other. I walked around to the side door, the one I'd always used, and let myself in. Donna, the Anderson’s housekeeper, was sitting at the gleaming marble island, a coffee cup by her side, flipping through a magazine. "Hey, Sam," she greeted me as I snuck in.

  "Carolyn around?"

  "In the sunroom." Donna started to rise and get me something to eat but I waved her off.

  "I don't need anything, Donna. I'm not even sure how long I'll be." Even though I'd planned my speech to Carolyn all night, I was feeling nervous and sick to my stomach. I wished Tucker was here or that David was better at comforting his wife. Worried that Carolyn was going to need someone, I planned to talk to Tucker directly after.

  Donna gave me a concerned look, but I was halfway through the kitchen and out the door before she could ask me what was wrong. The sunroom was a long, screened-in porch that overlooked the pool. When we were younger, Tucker, Will, and I all played out here, but when my parents moved out west of town and installed a pool, we started gravitating toward my house.

  The Anderson house was oppressive. Even though Carolyn tried to decorate it in bright, sunny tones, the unhappiness of her marriage and the disapproval that Tucker and Will suffered under because they never lived up to their father's expectations made the house gloomy and unlivable. The sunroom, however, had been a place of noisy games and laughter when it had been the three of us kids here. Now Carolyn sat there almost every day with a book and a cup of tea. I didn't know if she read the book or drank the tea or if they were just props to make her look like she was occupied and not reliving scenes from the past.

  "Hey, Carolyn," I called from the doorway, not wanting to startle her. A big smile wreathed her face as she took me in.

  "Samantha, what a nice surprise." She walked over and grabbed my hands, pulling me in for a hug and kiss on the cheek. "I was just thinking about the graduation party we'd held for Will and you here." Leading me over to the settee, Carolyn sat me down and poured me a cup of steaming hot tea. It was always hot no matter what time of day or what the temperature was outside. I took a careful sip and tucked a slip of my hair behind my head. I didn't correct her. The graduation party had been held at a nearby park because we'd co-hosted it with my family. Maybe Carolyn was thinking of Tucker's graduation, which had been held here and which had been kind of crazy because it ended up with a lot of fully-clothed people in the pool.

  Later that night, Will had snuck some weed from his brother's stash and we'd smoked it in the pool house and made out. But I didn't want to share that with Carolyn so I kept my mouth shut.

  "We had some good times here," I said. It was true. While we didn't come here a ton and we were mostly at my house, as long as Will and I were together it had been a good time. I lifted up the box I'd brought with me.

  "Carolyn, I want you to have these things." I held out the big white box to her. She made no move to take it. It was heavy so I couldn't keep holding it. I dropped the box to my lap.

  Refusing to look at me, Carolyn continued as if I hadn't said a word to her. "It's good that he left, your friend," she clarified. "He didn't seem to fit in with us.” Who knew what Tucker had told her.

  "Carolyn," I started again, but she just talked right over me.

  "How is that afghan going? I was over at the condo the other day and saw you'd taken it down. Did you finish it? I think it would make a great Christma
s gift for Tucker. Something you made in remembrance for Will."

  I'd forgotten she had keys to the condo and it was a little weird that she'd gone in there without telling me. But this too was part of my own weakness. I'd relied on my family too long, not picking up the reins of my own life. This was going to be so hard. Rubbing my forehead, I thought about the best way to make it clear to her that whatever dreams she had for me and Will or me and Tucker weren't ever going to come true. "I'm in love with him," I finally said.

  "Oh, I know. We all love him." she said, deliberately misunderstanding. "I guess that's why it's so hard to have his things in your home?" She nodded toward the box on my lap. "I just know you'll regret it if you give them away."

  "I'm not giving them away." I told her softly. "I'm returning them to you. I know you'll treasure them, but it just isn't right for me to have all these things."

  The flags, the medals, his uniforms. I couldn't keep those things and go to Gray with an open heart. He was a good man and an understanding one, but these things were better off with Will's family. I knew it and I think Carolyn knew it too even if she didn't want to acknowledge it. I had my own Will treasures. The stuffed animal he'd won for me at the school carnival. The tickets to our senior prom. Pictures. Those were the mementos of our life together. The medals and honors represented Will's life in the Army and I felt like they were better off with his mother than with me.

  "I love you, Carolyn. I loved Will. He'll always be with me but I'm ready to love again. I hope you understand that."

  Silent tears dripped down her face but she acted like it was nothing. "Tucker's been making noise about going back to law school. Wouldn't that be nice?"

  He'd done no such thing, but I lied again. "Yeah, that would be nice." It wasn't ever going to happen.

  "I was thinking of the time that you and Will handed out candy at Halloween. You dressed up like Gomez and Morticia Addams."

  I laughed a little. "And Tucker was Lurch. And all the kids said I was too short to be Morticia."

  "You looked so beautiful on your wedding day."