Fifteen

LET ME GET this straight,” Angie said, gesturing with her knitting needle, which, incidentally, now held exactly three rows of periwinkle stitches. “Last week, you were in tears over Colin, and now you’re going to Whistler with the old guy?”

“Jim,” I corrected her, leaning back onto Nicola’s luxurious sofa. “And yes.”

“God,” Sophie said, taking a sip of Merlot, “your life is so exciting.”

“Do you ski?” Nicola asked. “Blackcomb Mountain is spectacular. We spent Christmas with my parents there a couple of years ago.”

“Not really,” I said. I had tried, once, on a high school ski trip, but ended up removing my skis in frustration and walking down the mountain. It took me three hours to reach the bottom, and I spent the rest of the weekend in the lodge eating french fries and drinking hot chocolate.

“Maybe you could take a lesson?” Nicola continued. “It’s so much fun!”

“Maybe.” I shrugged indifferently, purling two stitches. French fries and hot chocolate actually sounded like a lot of fun to me too.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of soon to be going away with this Jim guy?” Angie said. “I mean, how long have you known him?”

“Look,” I said defensively, “Colin and I took things slowly and I wasted four years of my life with him. Going away with Jim feels right, so I’m going to do it. And I’m not going to over-analyze it.”

Of course, I had overanalyzed it, nearly every night this week as I lay in bed wondering if it was too soon to be spending a weekend away with Jim. I had listed the pros:

• I felt comfortable with him.

• I was attracted to him.

• I felt confident that he was a good, trustworthy person.

• He was a Capricorn, a sign that was given “two enthusiastic thumbs up” in the relationship section of my astrology book.

There were also a few cons:

• We were going to a foreign country. (It was just Canada and only a five-hour drive from home, but still...there was an increased risk.)

• I barely knew him.

• It had only been a few months since Colin and I had broken up.

• It had only been two weeks since Colin and I had had sex.

But something told me to jump at this opportunity, that I would regret it if I dragged my heels on this burgeoning relationship. Besides, who was Angie to judge? She’d only been seeing Thad for a short time and she was already wearing one of those silly red Kabbalah strings around her wrist.

“Will you be sharing a room?” Sophie asked.

“I—I don’t know.” I couldn’t help blushing. “He didn’t mention it.”

Nicola gasped. “I would hope not! You barely know him.”

Angie said, “Obviously he feels he knows her well enough to invite her to Whistler for the weekend. He’s probably planning to bang her.”

“Not if he’s any kind of gentleman, he’s not,” Nicola countered.

“Too bad Martin couldn’t make it this week,” Sophie commented. “We need a male opinion on this.”

“He had some business in San Francisco,” I explained, eager to shift the subject from Jim’s and my sleeping arrangements. “A conference or a convention or something. But we should take this opportunity to catch up to him with our knitting. He’s already on his second project and we’re not even done our first!”

I looked around at the startling lack of progress we’d made in our weeks together. While Sophie’s tiny mint hat was nearly ready to be bound off and sewn, Angie had done virtually nothing but cast on stitches. She was keen on the initial stages of buying beautiful yarn and glossy pattern books, but she seemed to lack the follow-through to complete anything. Nicola’s mauve angora scarf, on the other hand, was nearly half done. Her method of knitting was incredibly painstaking and precise, as she regularly checked her gauge and periodically stopped to count stitches. Slowly but surely, she was making progress.

In contrast, I knitted with abandon. My fingers seemed to fly once I got going. Like Mel had said, it became an almost unconscious Zen act. But when I broke for a sip of wine or a snack, an inspection of my work found any number of mistakes. I was continually ripping out rows, resulting in my mom’s (or, at this rate, my sister-in-law’s) birthday scarf still being only five inches long. Really, other than Martin, none of us would have qualified as “natural” knitters.

Angie would not be distracted by talk of our lack of knitting prowess. “I may not be a man, but I certainly know them. Sex is definitely on the agenda.”

“But maybe it’s different with older guys?” Sophie said.

“Please!” Angie said, like the possibility was completely ludicrous. “He’s forty-eight. Not ninety! He’s going to want some. I guarantee it.”

“You guarantee it?” I said, giggling nervously. The thought of having sex with Jim this weekend brought up a jumble of emotions: anxiety, apprehension, mixed with a little excitement. Unfortunately, my uncontrolled giggling made it sound like I was simply dying to fuck his brains out.

“I’m not so sure,” Sophie said. “If he was in his twenties or thirties, I’d agree. But he’s almost fifty. Maybe he wants to take it slow?”

“You’ve only been on what—two dates—with him?” Nicola said. “I can’t imagine that he expects you to consummate your relationship already!”

“True,” I mumbled, while thinking that Nicola really didn’t know men very well.

“You’re so naive!” Angie scoffed. “Of course he wants to do the nasty with her. Why do you think he’s inviting her away for the weekend—for her great conversational skills?”

“Gee, thanks,” I snapped.

“Sorry.” Angie tried to backtrack. “I didn’t mean that you don’t have great conversational skills. You do.”

“No, that’s fine,” I said dismissively. “Nice bracelet, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she said, haughtily, fingering the string. “It was a gift from Thad. It protects me from the evil eye.”

“The evil eye?” Sophie asked.

“Like, other people’s negative thoughts and stuff.” It appeared to be working against mine, because she continued, unfazed. “And it reminds me not to have negative thoughts about other people . . . so I can live a more positive, fulfilling existence.”

Oh brother. I simply couldn’t take another detailed account of Angie and Thad’s freaky belief system, nor did I want to further discuss Jim’s sexual expectations. I turned to my tried-and-true subject change. “So Nic, how are the wedding plans coming along?”

Nicola’s eyes darted nervously toward Sophie. Damn! In my self-absorbed state, I had completely forgotten about her untimely exit last week when Nicola was trying on bridal headresses. “Oh, fine,” she said, dismissively, staring intently at her mauve stitches.

There was an awkward silence as we all scrambled for a light and breezy discussion topic. I was just about to ask Angie if she’d enjoyed any more fantastic lighthouse sex when Sophie said, “Look . . . I want to apologize for last week.” She turned to Nicola. “I don’t know why I got so emotional when you were trying on wedding veils. I guess I was just overwhelmed with disappointment about how my marriage has turned out. But I’m sure yours will be wonderful, and I want you to feel comfortable talking about it around me.”

“No, it was insensitive of me,” Nicola cried. “I’m always going on and on about my dress, my hair, the most special day of my life, blah blah blah. I’m sure you’re all bored to tears hearing about it.”

“Not at all,” Sophie said, reaching to squeeze Nicola’s hand. “I want to hear all the details. I was premenstrual. It was a moment of weakness. I’m fine now.”

“Well, thank you,” Nicola said, smiling at her. “But even I’m getting tired of talking about it. How’s Flynn? He must be getting so big. And that hat is going to be so cute on him!”

“He’s fine.” Sophie shrugged. “He’s been remarkably unaffected by all the tension between Rob and me.”

“Things haven’t improved, then?” Angie asked, leaning forward to cut a piece of brie.

“No,” Sophie said, her voice tinged with sadness. “They’re worse than ever. I can feel myself emotionally checking out of the relationship.”

“You mustn’t!” Nicola cried. “You have to fight for your marriage! You can’t give up.”

“Have you thought of counselling?” I suggested.

Sophie gave a humourless laugh. “Rob would actually have to take time off work to go to counselling. He’d never do it.”

Angie leaned over and patted Sophie’s knee. “I’m sure he would if he realized how upset you are.”

“It’s actually . . . It’s actually a bit complicated,” Sophie said, nervously, reaching for her glass of wine. We all remained silent as she took a long drink. I, for one, was dying to know what the complication was, but pretended to focus on my knitting. I didn’t want to push her. Finally, she put down her glass and said, “I may as well tell you. I—I’ve been developing feelings for someone else.”

“Oh god!” Nicola gasped, reaching for her own glass of wine.

“I didn’t intend for it to happen,” Sophie continued. “It just sort of snuck up on me, but now... now I’m not sure I even want my marriage to work.”

“Are you sleeping with this guy?” Angie asked.

Nicola nearly choked on her mouthful of wine, hurriedly holding a napkin to her lips. I guess it was a lot for a technical virgin to take in.

“No, no,” Sophie assured us. “There’s nothing physical going on. I mean, he doesn’t even know I have these feelings.”

“So . . . maybe it’s just a crush?” I said, hopefully. “Maybe it’ll pass?”

“It won’t pass,” Sophie replied, morosely. “These are real feelings.” She stopped to take another drink. “I think . . . I might be falling in love with this guy.”

“No, Sophie!” Nicola the Pure cried out. “What about Flynn? You can’t break up his family!”

“Let’s not jump the gun,” Angie said. “Is this guy even interested in you?”

“I—I don’t know. Sometimes I think he is, but then other times . . . I just don’t know.”

Angie continued, “Where did you meet him?”

“At a . . . uh . . . place that I go to.”

“A bar?” Nicola said, sounding incredibly judgmental. “You can’t leave your husband for a guy you met in a bar.”

“Not a bar,” Sophie said. “Where we met is irrelevant. What matters is that I feel like I want to pursue something with this guy. I can’t stop thinking about what we might have together if . . . if I were available.”

“Oh no,” Nicola said quietly, absently placing her scarf in its bag. Sophie’s admission was upsetting, of course, but Nicola was acting like Sophie’s mystery man was her own fiancé, Neil.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, my own scarf sitting forgotten in my lap.

“I don’t know. I’m open to advice.”

“Well,” Angie began knowledgeably, “first, you need to find out if this guy—what’s his name?”

“Uh . . . I’d rather not say.”

“Okay, if this guy has feelings for you, too. It would be stupid to leave Rob only to find out that the guy’s not interested.”

“True.” Sophie nodded her head. “So how do I find out?”

“Next time you’re at the place that you go where you see the guy, you’re going to have to lay it on the line,” Angie said.

“I can’t!” Sophie cried, covering her face.

“You have to,” Angie retorted.

“No she doesn’t.” Nicola jumped in. “She should stop going to the place where she sees the guy. She should talk to Rob about her feelings before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late,” Sophie cried. “I really care about him—the guy.”

“Then you need to tell the guy,” Angie said. “And you need to do it soon. If you find out that the guy’s not interested, then you can stop going to the place where you see him and focus on your marriage.”

I addressed Sophie. “But how can you have such strong feelings for the guy already? I mean, I don’t know what you do at this place where you go, but have you really had a chance to talk to him? Are you just physically attracted to the guy, or do you really know him?”

Angie said, “But what if the guy is interested? Are you really prepared to leave Rob for him? Is he prepared to be a father to Flynn?”

“Flynn has a father!” Nicola cried. “This guy will never be Flynn’s real father!”

“Stop!” Sophie cried. “Enough with the speculation!” She buried her face in her hands for a long moment. When she lifted it and spoke, her voice was hushed. “The place where I see him is here, at the stitch ’n bitch club.”

Three jaws dropped open in shock.

“And the guy... is Martin.”

“Gay Martin?” I shrieked. “You’re falling in love with gay Martin?” So I hadn’t imagined her flirting with him!

“He’s not gay!” Sophie cried. “Why do you say he’s gay?”

“Because he is gay!” Nicola said.

“No he isn’t,” Angie countered. “What makes you think he’s gay?”

“His gayness!” I screeched. “He wears nice clothes. He always smells good. He’s in a knitting circle!”

“Knitting does not make you gay,” Angie said. “Brad Pitt knits.”

“A lot of men take good care of themselves these days. He’s a metrosexual,” Sophie explained.

Nicola shook her head. “He seems gay to me.”

“Me too,” I seconded. “And I’ve known him the longest.”

Sophie was sounding a bit huffy. “Has he ever told you he’s gay? Have you ever seen him with another man?”

“Well . . . no, but I’ve never seen him with a woman either. And remember when we were talking about our past relationships? He said his last partner was four years younger than him.”

“Partner’s not a gay term. Lots of people call their significant others their partners,” Sophie retorted.

“He said a name, too!” Angie said excitedly. “What was it?”

“Terry,” Sophie replied glumly.

“Well,” Nicola said, “I don’t mean to be cruel, Sophie, but Martin’s never seemed particularly interested in you, in that way. I mean, I’m sure he likes you very much, but just as a friend.”

“I don’t know...” Angie said. “I’ve sensed a little chemistry there.” Sophie blushed and looked positively gleeful. “He does help you with your knitting a lot.”

“He helps us all a lot!” I cried. “He’s the best knitter in the group.” I could feel colour rising in my cheeks and my pulse was beginning to pound. I wasn’t sure why I was so intent on proving Martin’s homosexuality. Was it because I didn’t want Sophie to chuck away her marriage for a gay guy? Or was it because I didn’t want to admit the possibility that Martin was straight, and just found me about as sexually attractive as Kathy Bates?

“Gay or straight,” Nicola said to Sophie, “I don’t think you should pursue anything with him. My parents had a very solid and loving relationship, and I really think that is the foundation that allowed me to become the person I am today. Flynn deserves to have that, too.”

Sophie remained mute but looked like she might cry. Angie gave her knee a comforting squeeze. “Well, whatever you choose to do, one thing’s for certain: We’ve got a mission, girls. We’ve got to find out if Martin likes girls or boys!”