Knitting Under the Influence (17 page)

“Probably not.”

“That's the spirit. Sit down. You're trying them on.”

Lucy extracted the box she wanted as Kathleen went lurching back in her high heels to the aisle where she had found them. “I wonder why she likes to wear such high heels when she's already so tall,” Lucy said. “I mean, I know why
I
do it—it's the only way to make my legs look halfway decent. But the last thing she needs is more height.”

Sari sat down on the floor and pushed off her Crocs. “People notice her,” she said. “I think she likes that. First time I met her, she walked into this party—at Laurie Wong's house, actually—remember her?—and everyone immediately turned to look at her because … well, you basically couldn't miss her. I thought she was a model or actress or something and I figured she'd be all stuck-up and full of herself.” Lucy handed her a boot and she pulled it on and held out her hand for the other one. “But she was Kathleen. She threw herself down next to me and said she was bored, so I said something about how I wished it wasn't rude to knit at a party, and she told me how some baby-sitter had taught her when she was in sixth grade but she hadn't done it in ages. So then I started telling her about how there were all these amazing new knitting stores in Santa Monica and at some point we said we'd go to one the next morning together and we did and had a blast. And then you took that knitting class and got all excited about starting a club—” She stood up. Wobbled. “A little high, don't you think?”

“They're platforms,” Lucy said. “They don't count.”

“I’m like four inches taller.”

“Which brings you into normal range,” Kathleen said. “Almost.” She was back, now wearing her flip-flops and carrying a box.

“You getting them?” Lucy gestured to the shoe box.

“Uh-huh. I’ll wear them out with Kevin tonight. So he'll forget to be mad that I stood him up this afternoon. Not that he ever gets mad, come to think of it. Those are total fuck-me boots, Sari. I love them.”

“I can't wear fuck-me boots to a kids Halloween party,” Sari moaned.

“Shut up,” Lucy said to Kathleen. “Now you've got her all worried. They're not fuck-me boots, Sari. They're—” She groped.

“Trick-or-treat boots?” Kathleen suggested.

“Exactly! Trick-or-treat boots. They're made for Halloween.”

“More treat than trick for the older boys,” Kathleen said.

“Shut
up,
” Lucy said. “You're going to ruin everything.”

“What are you guys trying to do to me?” Sari said. “Between these and the warrior costume—”

“You'll be the hottest therapist in town. As you should be.” Lucy bent down and pushed at the toe of one of the boots. “Do they fit okay?”

“I guess. They're slightly big. Wearable. But, guys—”

“We're getting them. I’m paying.”

“Kathleen, don't you think—?”

“They're adorable. You'll get a ton of wear out of them. Do you have any short skirts? I mean, other than the Xena thing? Because that's what they're made for.”

“I don't wear stuff like that. You guys know that.”

Kathleen looked at Lucy. “Next stop, Anthropologie.”

By the time they were done with her, Sari had several new outfits in addition to the costume. Lucy paid for the boots, and, at the clothing store, Kathleen picked out two extremely short skirts, a pair of super-tight, super-low jeans, and a bunch of skimpy tank tops—all for Sari.

“This is fun,” Kathleen said, as she poked through the extra-small sizes. “Like dressing a doll.” She pulled out her own credit card at the cashier, and Sari protested, but Kathleen said, “If I pay for them, I know you'll feel guilty if you don't actually wear them. Sari, you can't sit around complaining about the lack of great guys in your life when you're not even making the slightest effort to get noticed. It's time to show them what you've got.”

“But I can't wear this stuff to work.”

“Why not?”

“I run around with kids all day long. I mean, I
literally
run around with them.”

“So learn to run in a miniskirt,” Kathleen said. “You'll never regret it.”

They walked back up Wilshire to the car, where Lucy crossed her arms and refused to unlock the doors until Sari promised—swore on her grandmother's grave—that she would wear the warrior princess costume to the Halloween party at the clinic. “There is no backing out now,” Lucy said once that was settled.“Or wearing long underwear underneath,” Kathleen said.

“Or a sweatshirt over it.”

“All right, all right, I promise,” Sari said. “And if I get laughed out of the clinic, I’ll know who to blame.”

“Blame Lucy,” Kathleen said. “She's the bossy one.”

5

Slip, Slip, Knit

I

I
t was Halloween. “Please,” Sari said into the phone. “Please release me from my promise. You have to. It's worse than I remembered. It's like my boobs are being served up on a platter.”

“That's very poetic,” Lucy said.

“Seriously.”

“You have to wear it. You promised.”

“I was drunk when I promised. That doesn't count.”

“You swore on your grandmother's grave. And you weren't drunk anymore.”

“Please, Lucy. If I wear this tonight—”

“Stop being such a coward. If not now, when?”

After Sari hung up, she looked at herself in the mirror again. The skirt seemed much shorter with the boots on, and the tight bodice shoved her breasts up so high they looked like refugees from an Edwardian brothel. The only good news was that the kids wouldn't notice—sometimes the fact that kids with autism could be oblivious to so much came in handy.

She rubbed some hair gel between her palms—she had bought it a couple of years ago when the woman who cut her hair had insisted but usually was in too much of a rush out the door to bother with it—and raked her fingers through her hair so it fell into choppy pieces, like Kathleen had told her to. She had to admit it did suit the warrior princess look. And, having committed herself that far, she felt obliged to search through the makeup she almost never wore for a dark pencil to outline her eyes and a bronzer, which she put on her eyelids and cheeks. She looked … defined. Her large blue eyes had become exotic and mysterious with the kohl around them.

She flexed her arm muscles in front of the mirror. “I am Xena,” she said out loud. Didn't Xena have a sound she made? Like a “ki-ki-ki-ki-ki” kind of thing? Sari said, “Ki-ki-ki-ki” and stopped, because she felt like an idiot.

“I’m not Xena,” she told the mirror. “Not even close.”

“Whoa, baby,” Christopher said when she came walking into the clinic's reception area. He was wearing a UCLA football uniform. “Wish you'd wear
that
around here more often.” He nudged Shayda, who was sitting next to him, sorting candy bars into big bowls, wearing a black pirate's hat. “Hey, Shade—look at Sari.”

“No, don't look at Sari,” Sari said. She hugged her arms over her chest. “Sari's hideously embarrassed. My friends made me wear this.”

Shayda glanced indifferently at Sari, then turned to Christopher. “’Whoa, baby?” she repeated. “That sounded really sexual harassment-y.”

“Sari knew I was joking.”

“I’m just saying you should be more careful. People get sued over stuff like that.”

Christopher rolled his eyes at Sari and tore open a package of M&M’s, which he poured straight into his mouth.

As they all prepared the rooms for the imminent onslaught of kids and families, Sari continued to tell anyone who commented on her costume that she had been forced to wear it and that she found it embarrassing.

When she said that to Ellen, Ellen waved her hand dismissively and said, “You look great. I don't see what the problem is.”

“Don't you think it's inappropriate?” Sari said. “Come on, Ellen, you're the boss here. Don't you think you should send me home to change? Because I could be there and back in ten minutes. Please tell me to go home and change.”

“Actually, I think you should dress like this more often.”

“Why?” Sari said. “You planning to turn this place into a clinic-slash-whorehouse?”

“Hmm,” Ellen said. “That's not a bad idea. We could use the extra money.” She grinned. “Come on, Sari, lighten up. The outfit's really not that bad, you know. I mean, look at Liza—” She pointed. Liza was walking down the hallway in a body-hugging black unitard. She wore a headband with black velvet ears sticking up. “Her outfit's a lot racier than yours, and you don't hear her worrying about it.”

“She's a black cat,” Sari said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can't believe she went with the obvious choice.”

“The point is, relax. And worry about the
kids,
not about how you look.” Ellen walked away.

Sari made a face at her retreating back. Of course Ellen would see nothing wrong with Sari's costume—Ellen herself was dressed as a belly dancer with a fringy top that revealed a large expanse of soft white belly and an even larger expanse of mountainous décolletage.

As the kids started arriving, the clinicians all took up their prearranged positions. Every office and playroom in the clinic was set up like its own little “house”—the kids would knock on the room door, the therapist would open it, and whoever was with the kid would prompt him to say, “Trick-or-Treat,” and then the therapist would compliment the kid and give him candy.

Ellen stayed in the main reception area, where she could greet all the families and invite them to come back and socialize when they were done trick-or-treating.

Sari stationed herself in one of the larger playrooms with a big bowl of Snickers bars. The party officially started at six, and, by six-fifteen, she was jumping up every few seconds to open the door and hand out the candy.

Sari was always surprised to see how many families used their clinic. A lot of “graduates” showed up that night, as well as dozens of kids who were currently patients. And many of them came with siblings, friends, and cousins. All of the kids wore costumes, but none of the parents did, except for one mother who had on a long black dress—which, Sari thought, was either meant to be a witch costume or was just a really goth choice.

There were, as always, more moms than dads present, and every one of the moms who came to Sari's door told her how fabulous she looked in her warrior costume. One mother actually screamed in delight when she saw her. “Oh, my God! I didn't even recognize you, Sari! Smile!” And, before Sari knew what was happening, the mom had snapped her photo.

Sari knew any embarrassing shots would be circulating at the clinic for years, and she silently cursed Kathleen and Lucy for all the future ridicule she would have to endure. She had hoped to be remembered as the clinic's most brilliant therapist—not as its resident goofball. Or sexpot. Hard to decide which was worse. Or more likely.

The few dads who came didn't compliment her as much. But they looked. Man, did they look. Lucy and Kathleen would be pleased, Sari thought, as one dad's mouth fell open in surprise when he saw her. He shut it again quickly, but she was careful not to bend over too much when she dropped a Snickers into his kid's plastic pumpkin—the dad was on the older side, and she didn't want to give him a heart attack.

For over an hour, the corridor was alive with kids running and laughing and screaming with excitement and sugar highs, but as time passed, the flood of kids slowed to a trickle. Around seven-thirty, Sari wondered if she should head toward the main room—she could hear voices and music and general party sounds coming from there whenever she stuck her head out the hallway.

She hadn't had a kid knock on the door for over five minutes, and she was getting bored. The whole thing ended at eight anyway.

She thought she should really go join the others.

Instead, she sat back down at the big table in the middle of the room and wondered what she was waiting for.

She knew perfectly well what she was waiting for.

And, at seven-thirty-seven, he came.

When she heard the knock, she just assumed it was another kid trick-or-treating, and opened the door with a big smile on her face to find Jason Smith standing there.

“Hi,” he said. And then took in her costume. “Hi,” he said again, but his eyes widened and he took a step back. “What
are
you?”

“Some kind of warrior princess—at least according to the woman at the costume store.”

“It's great. One of the all-time great Halloween costumes, I’d say.”

They had turned off half of the hallway lights so it would feel a little more like nighttime in the clinic, and Sari hoped that the dim lighting meant Jason couldn't see her blush. “My friends made me wear it.”

“I like your friends. You make a good warrior goddess, Sari.”

“Warrior
princess
” she said. “Haven't you forgotten something?”

“Sorry. I’m not the costume type.”

“No, not that. I meant your kid. Where's Zack?”

“Isn't he here?”

“I haven't seen him.”

“Oh, shit,” he said, and looked up and down the empty hallway like he expected Zack suddenly to appear. “Denise was bringing him. They were supposed to have been here a while ago.”

“Maybe they're in the main office,” Sari said. “Not everyone makes it down this way. The real party's back there.”

“I checked,” Jason said. “They're not there.”

“You think you should try calling them?”

“Yeah.” He pulled out a cell phone and pressed a couple of buttons, then made a face. “Battery's dead.” He shook his head in self-disgust. “I forgot to recharge it. That would explain why they haven't called. Do you have a phone I can use?”

“In here.”

He followed her inside the room. “Door open or closed?”

“Closed, I guess. In case some other kids want to come trick-or-treating. We like them to have to knock. So it feels more like the real thing. If we left the door open, it wouldn't feel the same, you know?” She realized she was blithering on, over-explaining because she didn't want him to think she was closing the door to be alone with him. She made herself stop talking and pointed to the desk in the corner of the room. “There's a phone over there. Dial nine to get out.”

“Thanks.” He went over and dialed and said, “Hi. It's Jason. Denise isn't there, is she? You're kidding. Put her on, will you?” He waited a little while, tapping one foot impatiently on the floor. Then, “Yeah, hi. It's me. What the hell are you doing still there? I’m at the Halloween thing at the clinic. Where you were supposed to be an hour ago.” He listened for a moment. “So why didn't you call? I’ve been—” Another moment. “Yeah, the battery's out, but you could have left a message here or something.” More listening. “So who's with Zack?” Then, “Do you really trust her to watch him?” After a response: “All I know is that you were supposed to have him for two hours. Just two little hours, which were supposed to include bringing him here to trick-or-treat. And you couldn't even manage that. And you better not be expecting me to go get him over there, because I’m not about to make that trip again. Do you know what the traffic is like on Halloween night? It took me over an hour to get back to this side of the hill.” He looked at his watch as he listened to something else. “Since six? He'll be up all night now.” He grimaced. “Fine, then. Bring him home whenever you want. It's not like he'll be asleep before midnight, anyway.” He listened for a moment. “Shit, Denise, can't you even spend half an hour in a car with him? So who
is
going to be driving him?” A pause. “Terrific. What is she, sixteen? Does she even have a license?” Then, “Yeah, I know, I know. You really went out of your way to give him a fun time tonight, didn't you? Way to help your son celebrate Halloween.” He slammed the phone back down into its base.

Sari had been studying the table as if the fake wood grain fascinated her, but now she looked up. “Everything okay?”

He shook his head. “She was supposed to take him out to dinner. For once. She said she wanted to, because it was Halloween and she hadn't seen him for days. And then she was supposed to bring him here and trick-or-treat with him and then I was going to meet them and take him home. She wouldn't even have had to spend the night with him.” He exhaled sharply. “I dropped him off at her office at five. They never left, haven't even had dinner. He's just been sitting there watching TV with some intern — or at least he was until he fell asleep an hour ago. She made him miss Halloween.”

“Maybe it's not too late,” Sari said. “I mean, it is for trick-or-treating here, but maybe they could still go to some houses—”

“There's no way—now she's claiming that there's an emergency at work she has to deal with. Which just means some actor's throwing a hissy fit or something. I’d run over and grab him, but he's all the way out in Burbank, and by the time I got there, it would be too late to take him anywhere. Anyway, I wanted him to do
this.”
He waved his hand at the room. “It would have been perfect. He got scared last year when I tried to take him out for some real trick-or-treating. I wanted him to do something for Halloween that would make him see it can be fun. And this would have been—” He stopped. “Perfect,” he said again. “That's all. And she ruined it.”

“I’m sorry,” Sari said. And realized she really was. For Zack, mostly, and a little bit for Jason. “Is there anything I can do to help? I could send some candy home.”

He looked at her and his face suddenly relaxed into a smile. “I don't suppose you'd be willing to kick Denise's ass? I mean, you look like you could, with those boots and all.”

Sari laughed. “I doubt it—you said she was a real athlete in college and I’m kind of out of shape.”

“She's got some height on you, too. In the interest of full disclosure. But you've got that whole tough leather thing going on. And you don't look like you're out of shape.” He leaned back, resting his hip against the desk. “I’m so bummed about this. Poor Zack. I should never have let her have him on a holiday.”

“Do you guys have a custody arrangement worked out?”