Page 47 of The Side Road
‘But, darling, don’t you want to find someone?’
‘I’m grateful that you care, and I know everything you do comes from a place of love, but you know what happened last time.’
‘You had a nasty cold, that’s all,’ Blanche said.
‘It was more than a cold. I cried for months. The truth is, I’m happy.’
‘Outrageous.’ Leo winked at her.
Mia smiled. ‘Do you want to know why I’m happy?’ She fixed her gaze on her aunt.
Blanche shrugged.
‘Because I don’t think about men anymore. I don’t look for single men at restaurants or cafes. I don’t change my clothes when I go down the street – worried I might bump into a man. It’s taken me three years to get to this point. I’m happy.’
Leo placed his hand over Mia’s. ‘We get it. You’ve done a great job of knitting yourself back together.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Well, you’ll meet Josh soon enough; he’s coming this evening.’ Blanche collected the empty mugs from the table and headed toward the sink.
‘What? Tonight?’
‘Yes.’
‘He knits?’
‘Apparently.’
Mia checked the time. It was almost six; the knitters would arrive shortly. After rinsing the mugs, Blanche started assembling a cheese platter. Mia quickly joined the preparations. She tidied the kitchen, putting away the tea things, while Leo arranged glasses on the side table in the living room. Following this, he moved the furniture, bringing in more chairs, which he placed in a circular formation around the room. Then he opened two bottles of the cleanskin wine.
Sally was the first to arrive. A slim woman in her late twenties, from the moment Mia met her, she had wanted to wash Sally’s hair. It had taken her months to work up the courage to attend a Sit & Knit gathering, but this was now her third meeting. So far, her attendance time had peaked at thirty-five minutes. At the last meeting, Sally had managed to utter a few sentences about the comfort pillow she was knitting.
Kristen never missed a gathering.In her fifties, she knitted with her elbows splayed like wings, her head bobbing quickly back and forth. Blanche said Kristen was spoiled as a child; that was the reason she was so disappointed in life. Her heart, which rarely opened, was not the sensitive kind.
Flora came for the wine and cheese, but she was good with granny squares and dishcloths. Abbey came with her son, Josh, the English professor.
Josh claimed the seat beside Mia. ‘Hello,’ he whispered. ‘You must be Mia. I’m Josh. We’re supposed to get married, raise two misbehaved kids, get a Labrador and spend the rest of our lives fucking miserable?’
He had a deep frown and a focused gaze, as if he thought about interesting things, which Mia thought might be books, and dimples when he smiled. She liked him immediately.
‘I already have a Labrador,’ she said.
‘Then you’ve saved us the trouble. What are you knitting?’
She showed him her vicuna, South American llama, jumper. ‘I’m almost finished, just the cuff to do. What are you working on?’
‘A sweater vest for my friend. I’ve done the back, and this is the front, but I’m having trouble with the V-neck. It keeps puckering. Abbey said you could help. She only knits scarves, so she’s no help.’
Mia took the knitting and examined the ribbing. A tape measure appeared, and she ran it down the length of the work. ‘Decrease one stitch at the neck edge on every second row. I like this mauve wool.’ She handed the knitting back to Josh. ‘Will ours be a big wedding or a cosy backyard affair?’ she asked.
‘It will be a cosmic event. How do you feel about personalised stickers – Mia and Josh?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘At the reception, we could have a wall of greenery with a neon love-centric slogan.’
‘You’ve given this some thought.’
‘Yes.’ Quickly, he continued. ‘Since we met at a Sit & Knit night, we could do yarn-inspired tablescapes. Or embroidered thank-you notes?’
‘Are you a wedding planner when you’re not teaching English literature?’
