A Good Yarn Page 0,52
a smaller place, a crueler place, without her mother. She didn't criticize Annie for using drugs. Courtney had chosen another addiction to dull her pain - food. It'd taken her four years to find the resolve to break free of this self-imposed punishment.
Courtney turned toward him. "I want to talk to Annie later, all right?" she said.
Andrew looked away from the road long enough to make eye contact with her. "She needs professional help."
"I know." Courtney just hoped Annie got that help before it was too late.
CHAPTER 17
"Most of us knit these garments for someone special. In doing so, we let our love and loving thoughts for one another grow, a single stitch at a time."
- Eugene Bourgeois, The Philosopher's Wool Co.,
Inverhuron, Ontario.
LYDIA HOFFMAN
Somehow I made it through the Fourth of July, thanks to my family. Matt and Margaret were so good to me, and Mom only asked about Brad once. I don't know what Margaret said, but his name was conspicuously absent from our conversations for the rest of the day.
Mom seemed especially quiet and even a bit confused. I spent as much time with her as I could, talking to her about the garden, the yarn shop, a TV show we'd both seen. My thoughts were with Brad, though, and with Cody. I experienced my grief as physical pain, as an ache in my chest - I think that's what people mean when they talk about a broken heart. I wanted to scream at the injustice of it: that Janice was with them and I wasn't. I tried hard to remember that Cody needed his mother.
After our barbecued chicken, coleslaw and corn - an all-American feast - I brought out a box of assorted pastries from the French Cafe. I'd included some cream puffs and napoleons, which were Alix's specialties. I hoped to see her on Friday at the shop. Once we'd finished dessert I took Mom home; she was too tired by then to wait for darkness to fall and the fireworks to begin.
We gathered, Matt, Margaret and I, to watch the fireworks, and as they burst over the Seattle skyline, tears rolled down my cheeks. I'd hardly ever felt more wretched or alone.
I wasn't good company. It'd been almost two weeks, and I knew I could make it if I didn't think about the future, if I coped with one day at a time. If I could get through today, I told myself, I'd find the courage to confront the next day and the next.
It didn't help that Brad continued to work the same route. Tuesday morning he told Margaret he'd requested a transfer but had been denied. I believed him. Last year, when I'd ended our relationship, he'd applied for - and received - a transfer and then later, when things were settled between us, he'd requested his old route back. Now the powers that be were obviously tired of this. So we were stuck seeing each other on a regular basis.
After weeks of depression over Matt's unexpected job loss, Margaret seemed to have cheered up considerably. I didn't know if this was an act for my benefit. In any case, I chose to believe that because Margaret loves me, she was trying to bolster my mood and create a supportive environment. I valued her support and this new tenderness.
I also needed Margaret as a buffer between Brad and me. He'd been in the shop four or five times since our last conversation and, thankfully, my sister was available to deal with him. This saved me, because I wasn't ready to pretend our relationship was merely casual. I couldn't speak to him without letting my emotions show and that would've humiliated me all the more.
Besides Margaret, one of my few comforts during this bleak time was the charity knitting group. They came Friday afternoons to work on a number of projects. When I first suggested this idea, my original class decided that they'd knit patches for Warm Up America. The nine-by-seven-inch pieces are crocheted together by Margaret to form blankets. This is her contribution to the effort. The patches make for an easy project, and each requires only a small commitment of time. Jacqueline, Carol and Alix lead busy lives, so this worked well for them. They also liked the idea of being involved in the same projects.
Elise wanted to come, but hadn't yet. I'd given her some donated yarn and she was knitting a blanket for the Linus Project at home. Alix