by Ari McKay
They tried to matchmake for him with the same energy they put into finding partners for various sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren, and while Jason appreciated their efforts and had gone out on a couple of dates they’d arranged, he still hadn’t met the right person. Now here he was, nearly thirty, and he was in danger of being the homosexual equivalent of an old maid. Funny how finding someone to love was harder than any physical challenge he’d ever faced.
JUST AFTER Christmas, Ana Lucia Peralta came into the store. Even though he knew she must be close to sixty, she was still stunningly beautiful, and she moved with a grace he envied. After thanking him for helping her son pick out such a fantastic gift for her, she imparted some surprising news.
“I just wish Tomy could have had as wonderful a Christmas as he gave me,” she said, glancing sidelong at Jason as she shook her head mournfully. “He was so excited about proposing to that awful boyfriend of his.”
Jason blinked in surprise, feeling concern offset by a tiny flare of hope. “What happened, ma’am?”
“Sean broke up with Tomy!” she exclaimed indignantly. “They met while Tomy was still competing, you know. Now Sean has run off to Hollywood, convinced he’s going to get a job on Dancing with the Stars or something like that, and suddenly Tomy isn’t good enough for him anymore. He’s a selfish, insecure child, and Tomy deserves better.”
“Yes, he does.” Jason was floored that anyone would walk away from a man like Tomy Peralta. Really, this Sean character must be a total idiot! He was outraged on Tomy’s behalf, and yet at the same time, Jason couldn’t help but think that maybe this would open the door for him to get to know Tomy better. “I can’t believe anyone would do something like that to someone as nice and handsome as your son.” Jason shifted on his stool. “Things don’t always work out the way you think they will, do they? I’m sure Sean will be kicking himself in a couple of months when he washes out in Hollywood and realizes what he threw away.”
“I hope Tomy won’t be foolish enough to forgive him if he does come crawling back,” she said grimly. “I always said that boy was ambitious. I think he latched onto Tomy because he knows Tomy will own the studio one day, but now he’s got a bigger prize in his sights.”
Scowling, Jason shook his head. “You really think he was using Tomy? That’s awful. I got the impression your son was very much in love with him.”
“Tomy is very trusting.” Ana Lucia’s expression turned fond as she spoke of her son. “He’s a romantic, and he sees the best in people, especially those he cares about. I don’t think he truly saw Sean’s unflattering traits until now.”
It was obvious that Mrs. Peralta adored her son, and Jason thought it likely that her love and support would be a key in Tomy’s recovery from his broken heart. Mothers and sons seemed to share a special bond, and Jason owed a lot to his own mother for helping him through his injury, recovery, and new career.
“I’m so sorry for his pain,” Jason said softly. “I know you’re doing everything you can to help him get through it. It must be even worse to have his broken heart associated with his career. At least after my injury, I didn’t have to go back on a football field and try to pretend everything was all right.”
“It will be difficult, but not as bad as it might be if Tomy were still competing,” she replied, inclining her head to acknowledge the point. “Sean was a competitive dancer, but not with our studio, thank goodness. Tomy retired from competition a couple of years ago to work at the studio full-time. We asked if he wanted to take some time off, but he didn’t. He’s working harder than ever, but I think he needs to get out more,” she added, glancing sidelong at Jason again.
“Well, I did invite him to come to the knitting class on Wednesday,” Jason replied. “He seemed interested before Christmas, but I don’t know if he still would be.” Personally, he would be thrilled to have Tomy come to the shop again, and he felt more than a little guilty for being glad Tomy hadn’t ended up with Sean after all.
“Did you?” Ana Lucia brightened at that. “You know, I think learning to knit would be a wonderful distraction for him, much more relaxing than working all the time. He needs something to take his mind off his broken heart, but that lets him feel productive too. I’ll remind him about the class and try to get him to attend.”
Jason found himself smiling. “I think you’re right. He needs an outlet. I know how good knitting is for that, believe me. If you can get him here, I’ll do my best to show him what good therapy it is for pain—all kinds of pain.”
“Why hasn’t anyone snapped you up yet?” She reached up to pat his cheek. “You’re a good man. I’ll bet your mother is very proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Jason flushed and ducked his head. He’d always found accepting compliments difficult. “I hope she is proud of me.”
“I’m sure she is,” she replied, smiling warmly at him. “Now why don’t you show me what you’ve been working on? I might get tempted. I need some smaller projects to work on when I need a break from the afghan.”
Jason pulled out his current project, a snow-white afghan in a wedding-ring pattern he was knitting as a gift for his sister’s upcoming nuptials. They chatted for a bit longer, and then Ana Lucia bid him farewell.
When Wednesday arrived, Jason spent the whole day wavering back and forth on whether he thought Tomy would show up for the class that evening. He must have changed his mind a thousand times by the time he needed to start setting up, and he still felt a bit bad about the anticipation he felt at the thought of seeing Tomy again. But he did want to see Tomy, and as people began to arrive for class, Jason kept glancing toward the door, breathlessly waiting to see if Tomy was one of them.
Ana Lucia walked in first, with Tomy trailing along behind her, and Jason was startled by the change in him. When they met, Tomy had seemed light-spirited, with a sparkle in his dark eyes and buoyancy in his step. Now he walked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His curly dark hair was longer and lank, and his face had gone from lean to gaunt.
Jason went to greet them, holding out his hand to Ana Lucia with a smile. “Hello, it’s good to see you again,” he said, for all the world as if they hadn’t spoken only a couple of days before. Then he looked at Tomy, and his smile turned sad. He hated seeing someone who had been so upbeat and happy just a short time ago brought so low. “I’m glad to see you again, Tomy, although I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered. I hope knitting will help you heal from your pain the way it helped me heal from mine.”
“Mama thinks it’ll be good for me, so I’m here to give it a try,” Tomy replied, although he didn’t sound enthused or convinced.
“Why don’t you help him pick out his first project?” Ana Lucia gave Jason a look of hopeful appeal. “You know the inventory so much better than I do.” She patted Tomy’s arm gently, then joined her friends in the knitting circle area before Jason could respond.
Jason drew in a deep breath. He knew one of the walking wounded when he saw them, and he ached for the listlessness Tomy displayed. He hardly seemed like the same vital, happy man who had been in Jason’s store only last month. It was as though his inner light had been snuffed. More than anything, Jason wanted to help Tomy get it back, so he smiled and put his hand on Tomy’s arm, urging him toward the sales counter.
“I think it will be good for you too,” he said quietly. “One of the problems with being badly hurt is that you get lost in the pain. I don’t think it makes much of a difference if it’s physical pain or emotional pain, either. Both of them can consume you and make you feel like nothing in the world will ever be good or right again.”
He guided Tomy behind the counter and reached for the backpack where he carried his knitting projects. On a whim that morning, he’d stuck his first pair of knitting needles—pale bamboo worn smooth from use—in the bag, thinking of Tomy. They were size sevens, large enough to make the stitches easy to see, but small enough to car
ry easily. He offered them to Tomy. “I want you to have these. Don’t think of them as knitting needles. They’re a tool you’ll use to pull all the hurt out of yourself and create something beautiful.”
Tomy took the needles and stared down at them. “Too bad they can’t knit a broken heart back together,” he said softly.
“No, it’s up to you to do that,” Jason replied. He wished he could take Tomy’s pain away, but all he could do was try his best to help. “I can’t know exactly what you’re going through, because I’ve never been in love. But I know pain, and I know loss. I can tell you all day long that things get better, but hearing it isn’t what is going to help you. That takes belief, which is a powerful thing. Maybe the most powerful thing in the world.”
“I don’t know what to believe.” Tomy grimaced and shook his head. “What I believed in was wrong. I was wrong. I’m not sure I can ever trust my own judgment again.”
Jason wished he could put his arms around Tomy and hold him, but he settled for giving Tomy’s shoulder a supportive squeeze. “What you believed in wasn’t wrong. Love isn’t wrong, and what happened wasn’t your fault. It sounds to me like all the blame rests on Sean’s shoulders, for being an ungrateful, stupid bastard and for not realizing what he had and throwing it all away for nothing. I’d like to punch him for stringing you along, then dumping you like that.” Maybe Jason didn’t have a right to feel as strongly about it as he did, but he couldn’t help it. He might not know Tomy well, but his instincts were telling him Tomy was a good man, one well worth helping.
Tomy mustered a smile, but Jason could see the threat of tears in his eyes before he looked away. “You sound like Mama. She’s threatened to give him a good slap if she ever sees him again.”
“I’d pay to see that,” Jason replied. He reached into his bag again and pulled out a skein of yarn, one he’d hand-dyed in a deep but vibrant blue. “Here, I made this for your first project, if you’d like to use it. I took a guess that you like deep blue. This is a combination of wool and silk, and it’s very easy to work with. It would make a warm, soft scarf.”
Tomy took the skein and stroked it lightly. “You made this for me?” he asked, looking directly up at Jason at last. “That was risky. I wasn’t going to come, but Mama strong-armed me into it.”
“I was hopeful you’d come,” Jason said.
Tomy looked down at the skein again. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing, really, but you’re welcome.” Jason smiled, glad that Tomy seemed pleased with the yarn. “I think that color would look wonderful on you. So… think you’re ready to get started?”
“Well, I’m here, and I promised Mama I’d give it a serious try.” Tomy shrugged, seeming indifferent to whether he got started or not.
Jason wasn’t daunted by Tomy’s attitude. He remembered his own first time knitting, and he had shown about the same level of enthusiasm. “I predict you’ll be addicted by the time you leave the shop,” he said confidently. “The act of creation is a rush. Come on, we’ll grab a couple of chairs, and I’ll show you how to cast on.”
He led Tomy to the chairs and introduced him to the ladies in the group. Then he spent a few minutes showing Tomy how to cast on, before he had Tomy try it by himself. “You’ll get the hang of this in no time.”
Tomy fumbled with the needles awkwardly, muttering profanity under his breath as his cast-on stitches slipped off and the ones that did stay on were too loose in some places and too tight in others. “God, I can’t even get this right. I’m hopeless.”
“You know that’s not true,” Jason admonished him softly. “You didn’t master dancing in a day, did you? I’m not saying this is nearly as difficult as learning to zoomba or boomba or whatever, but it takes a little time to learn your way around the needles.”
“I’m not sure what the point is,” Tomy said, staring down at the needles in his lap, and it was obvious he wasn’t just talking about learning to knit. Obviously the breakup had shaken his self-confidence deeply and he hadn’t begun rebuilding it yet.
Jason looked at him for a long moment, then stood up. “Why don’t you come with me? I want to show you something.”
Tomy glanced up, visibly puzzled, but he put the needles and yarn aside and got up. “What is it?”
“You’ll see.” Jason smiled, and then led Tomy to the back of the store. They went through the stockroom and then into Jason’s small office. Besides the desk where Jason did the paperwork and had his computer, there were a bunch of trophies on the wall, and a framed copy of his contract with the Falcons. He pointed at the contract. “You see that? Do you know why I keep it where I can see it every day?”
Tomy shook his head, frowning. “It seems like it would be a painful reminder.”
Jason smiled. “Yeah, and once upon a time, it was. But now it’s a reminder that life goes on and that I’m damned lucky. Sure, my career ended, but I found another one—one I didn’t expect. It dropped on me out of the blue, and now I love it. It’s also a reminder that things could have been worse. I could have ended up paralyzed. It happens more often than people realize. I keep that up there because even though I might never play in a Super Bowl or make millions of dollars in endorsements, I can still be happy. Whether or not I’m happy is up to me. Just as whether you’re ever happy again or ever fall in love again is up to you. You’ve suffered a deep wound, and I’m not making light of it at all. But the first step in going on isn’t dwelling on what you lost. It’s being grateful for what you still have and deciding you aren’t going to let Sean get the best of you by missing him.”
“I know it could have been much worse, but it isn’t just about me missing him,” Tomy replied, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s also about how badly I misjudged him. I was fooled into thinking he really cared about me.”
Again Jason wanted to fold Tomy in his arms and take his pain away, but he couldn’t. That wasn’t his place, and he wasn’t sure Tomy would accept it from him. All he could do was talk and hope he could help Tomy with his words. “So you made a mistake. You aren’t the first man who’s done that, and you won’t be the last. Who’s to say he wasn’t playing it up, either consciously or unconsciously, to make you think he cared more than he did? I’m telling you, it’s not your fault. I can see this has really shaken your confidence, and I wish there was something I could say or do that would put the same gorgeous smile on your face I saw a month ago.”
“Maybe one day, but today isn’t that day.” Tomy turned to look at the framed contract and trophies, his expression pensive. “I still have my family and my work. I am grateful for what I’ve got.”
“Good. Then that is the point.” Jason smiled and rested his hand on Tomy’s shoulder once more. “You go on for what you still have, and at some point, you’ll find you have even more than you thought you did.”
Tomy shot a dubious look at him but didn’t argue. “In that case, maybe I’d better get back to trying to figure out how to cast on without losing half my stitches. If nothing else, I’ll have hats, scarves, and gloves to show for it.”
“Being productive can definitely be a help.” Jason squeezed Tomy’s shoulder, then released him. “Anyway, anytime you need a friendly ear, I’m here, okay? I know we don’t know one another very well, but I want to help you if you need it. God knows it helped me to talk through my problems after my injury.”
“Thanks, but I don’t see much point in talking about this particular problem. It’s pretty clear-cut. I loved him, he loves his career, I’m now single. There’s not a lot to talk about with that particular story.”
“Well, just keep the offer in mind.” Jason gestured to the door. “So now let’s try that cast-on again. You’ll get the hang of it, I promise.”
As he led Tomy back to the knitting group, Jason decided to do everything he could to help Tomy get over his loss. And then maybe, when Tomy was recovered, there might be a chance for Jason to find out if he and Tomy could have the very thing that Sean had so careless
ly thrown away.
Chapter Three
IF IT hadn’t been for his mother, Tomy would have skipped the February knitting class at Stitchin’ Time. Actually, he would have liked to skip pretty much everything until it was finally February 15. As it was, he kept his TV and radio off and spent as much time as possible at work. When he wasn’t teaching classes, he was taking care of his managerial responsibilities, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was coaching some of their competitive couples. By the time he got home, he was too tired to do much more than heat up something for dinner, which helped him avoid dwelling on the fact that he was going home to an empty apartment.
Sundays were the worst. The studio was closed, so he didn’t have reason to leave the house unless he manufactured one. It was especially difficult early on, when there were reminders of Sean everywhere. Two weeks after the breakup, his mother and Lola arrived unannounced and spent that whole Sunday helping him pack up what Sean had left behind. Then the three of them cleaned the whole place and rearranged the furniture in the living room and bedroom. It was as close to a fresh start as he could get without trying to find a new apartment and buying all new furniture that didn’t have any memories attached to it, and it did help a little.
But as January drew to a close, the Valentine’s Day hype ramped up on a daily basis. Tomy couldn’t go anywhere without seeing hearts and cupids, and all the couples-oriented products and advertising made his own loss sting more keenly, especially since he’d hoped to be planning a wedding at this point. All he wanted to do was hole up like a hermit until the holiday was over, but his mother showed up in his office on the first Wednesday of the month to remind him about the knitting class. He tried to use work as an excuse, but she refused to accept it, pointing out that he’d worked so many long hours and been so diligent about pretty much everything that he couldn’t possibly be behind.
