Page 6

CHAPTER 6

Cami

Coco

Which plates do you like?

Me

The ones on the left are sort of grandma-ish

Coco

So, right?

Me

I guess

Coco

Super helpful, thanks

Me

You’re welcome!

I hop off the subway and weave through the throng of people crossing this way and that on the way to their destinations. Everyone is in a hurry in New York City and no one has any time for pleasantries. That was something I had to get used to when moving from Florida to here. No one really stops to say excuse me when they bump into you. If you’re lucky, they won’t curse at you while telling you to watch where you’re going .

I’ve mastered the weave and walk at this point. I head up from the subway and back onto the streets, then start the three block walk to Brookdale Retirement Living. I pull my bag closer to my body and shove down the colorful yarn that has made its way up and is now peeking out of my bag. I brought a new chunkier yarn today, hoping Gladys might help me out with it.

About a year ago, I was looking for the next hobby I might pick up and was scrolling on a website where people can advertise local groups or clubs for people to join. I saw something about knitting, grabbed the information, and made my way there the very next Tuesday afternoon. I should have looked a little closer at the details, though, because it turns out it is a knitting club specifically for the people who live in this retirement community.

Thankfully, the ladies allowed me one session as a trial run and apparently liked my personality enough that they deemed me acceptable to keep coming back. Now they all just feel like bonus grandmas to me. This is the one hobby I’ve actually found myself staying interested in for more than a month, so I’m calling that a win. It’s probably because of the women that I get to hang out with, but don’t tell them that. They already think everything is about them.

I push through the rotating door and sigh in relief as the heat hits my cheeks. Turning left, I pass the front desk and wave hello to Shauna, one of the receptionists. Everyone who works here is extremely kind.

I press the button in the elevator for the fifth floor, stepping off and heading down the hallway. I pass a few recreation rooms, the swimming pool, and a fitness studio before finally reaching my destination. This is one of the nicest retirement homes I’ve ever been in, and it is definitely a luxury.

The room where knitting club takes place is technically called the community room, but it’s really like a big living room for the residents to spend time in. It’s a wide open space with lots of windows and natural light. The center of the room is marked with three large floral print couches in the shape of the letter U. Absolutely something you would find in your grandma’s living room.

In front of the couches is an electric fireplace that is currently lit and filling the room with a beautiful glow and warmth. On either side of the couches there are bunches of round tables and chairs set up, a place where residents can play cards or have a meal together.

As I enter the room, four pairs of eyes—I guess I should say eight, because they all wear glasses—look up at me. They all crinkle at the edges as they smile and it warms something deep inside.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up,” Gladys says, rolling her eyes in feigned outrage.

“It isn’t even five past. Lighten up, old lady,” I tease as I make my way over to the couch and plop down in my unofficial assigned spot.

“Two minutes late is still late, young lady.”

“I love you too,” I say back, and blow her a kiss. She huffs a laugh in my direction and smiles over at me.

The women in this group are an interesting bunch. Gladys is the snarkiest of them, but I like that about her. She has been living at Brookdale since her husband passed away a few years ago. She doesn’t talk about him much, but I can tell when she’s thinking about him. Her eyes go unfocused and it’s like she isn’t in the room anymore.

Emery and Rhonda are sisters. They’re a funny duo and clearly grew up spending lots of time together. Their mannerisms and the way they talk are so similar to each other, it reminds me of Colette and I, or even Alana and I. She is essentially my sister, and we have that bond, even if we don’t share DNA.

Then there’s Linda. She is clearly the mother of the group, always keeping track of the projects we’re all working on and what the logistics are for each meeting, even though in the last year we’ve only changed up where and when we meet maybe three times. She’s quiet but extremely kind and likes everything in order. She reminds me of Alana, and I think that might be why I love her so much.

I never really expected to find myself as a regular member of any club, definitely not a knitting club, and definitely not a knitting club with only women over sixty. I have found that I really enjoy my time with them, though. They have a level of wisdom that I don’t get from any of my friends and they aren’t nearly as worried about my marital status as my family is. It’s refreshing.

“What is everyone working on this week?” Linda asks, getting straight to business.

“I’m still working on the strawberry cardigan I started last week. I got a new chunkier yarn I was hoping you four could help me work with.”

“I’ll let Emery help you,” Rhonda says with a wink. Emery shoves her in the shoulder playfully and Rhonda rolls her eyes. “I’m working on a blanket for the grandson,” she says, holding up a small rectangle made of different shades of blue. It looks cozy and like something a toddler would love to curl up in.

“And I’m working on a matching hat,” Emery says, holding up what looks like a bundle of yarn and not a hat. It will get there, though.

“A blanket for me,” Linda says.

We all turn to Gladys in anticipation of her answer.

“Did you really think I would have an idea of where I was going today?” she asks, eyebrows raised. I snicker a laugh and the other women shake their heads and roll their eyes. “I’m just going to let the yarn speak to me.”

“I like it,” I say before settling into my spot on the couch. I grab a blanket and cozy up, taking a deep breath as I begin to work on my project. The repetition of making the stitches over and over again is soothing and somewhat mindless, allowing me to unplug my brain for a moment.

I appreciate knitting for a lot of reasons, but I love that it doesn’t require a ton of supplies or any specific dedicated workspace. I can curl up on my couch, grab my yarn and my knitting needles and that’s all I need. It’s simple and I like that about it.

“What’s going on in the world of Cami?” Rhonda asks. “We all know way too much about each other being stuck in here.”

I laugh at her comment as I continue to work, not looking up.

“Aw, come on, Rhon. I know you all love spending time together,” I tease and she shrugs. “Not a whole lot going on. Alana is about to leave on her big fancy work trip to Paris, so we’re trying to spend a lot of time together before she’s gone. My mom and Colette are in wedding planning mode and they pull me in to help every once in a while.”

“Planning weddings has gotten way out of hand,” Gladys pipes in. “Back when Roy and I got married, it was the two of us in the church with our parents and the pastor and that’s it. Didn’t need all that fancy crap everyone insists on having now.”

“It has definitely changed,” I say.

“I’ll say,” she replies.

I hesitate before speaking again, but these ladies tend to give the best advice, so I say what’s been on my mind since my visit with my mom and sister. “I’m a bit worried about the actual wedding though.”

“Now why would you be worried about that?” Rhonda asks, clear confusion in her voice. “Weddings are an exciting time. Plus, once you get to the event there isn’t much else to worry about. You just sit back and enjoy a glass of wine while everything happens in front of you.”

“I don’t think she’ll be doing much wine sipping as the Maid of Honor, Rhon,” Emery says. “What’s got you worried, sweetheart?”

Man, I love them.

“Well, it’s probably stupid,” I say, suddenly feeling self conscious about my fears.

“It most certainly is not. Now out with it.” Linda’s tone is no-nonsense.

“My mom and sister, my whole family honestly, is really layering on the pressure when it comes to my dating life. I think Colette’s wedding is bringing my unmarried status to the forefront of their minds. Everyone wants to know if I’m bringing a date, and every time I say I’m not they want to know why I haven’t settled down.”

“Well you haven’t settled down because you haven’t found the right fella yet,” Emery says, matter-of-factly.

“And I tried to say that, but they’re convinced it’s because I can’t pick something permanent. That I’m being immature by not settling down and choosing someone long term. The term I think my mom used was flighty,” I trail off, embarrassment creeping up my cheeks.

“She called you flighty?” Linda asks, shock in her tone.

I nod and shrug, then realize I’ve started biting my nails, an anxious habit I picked up when I was a kid. I mentally scold myself and get back to my project in an effort to keep my hands busy.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous. You are not flighty and you make commitments when you feel like they’re worth your time. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

I smile at Gladys’s words.

“I think they’re just scared that I won’t ever find love. They see it as this ultimate thing, but for me it’s not something I’m too concerned about right now. I mean I don’t mind having a little fun here and there, but I just don’t feel the need to settle down yet. I’m only twenty-seven, it’s not like I’m past child-bearing age or something.”

“You’re right, you have your entire life ahead of you. Trust us, you just live your life right now, sweetie. You don’t need a man to make that life complete.” Three heads nod in agreement with Emery.

“I agree, so I did something really stupid.”

“Oh, now it’s getting good,” Rhonda says with a smirk. “Whatdya do?”

“I told them I had a date.”

“Oh, well then problem solved,” Linda says, not picking up on the problem. “I didn’t know you were dating anyone. What’s his name?”

“That’s the thing…I’m not. Dating anyone, I mean.”

“So you lied?” Linda asks.

“I lied,” I say in confirmation. “What do I do?”

“Well, you obviously need to bring a date,” Emery replies, clearly deep in thought. “Do you have any ideas of who you could bring? Who could you take that you could tell them the situation and it wouldn’t be weird?”

“I’d really rather not explain this situation to anyone.” I sigh in frustration. “I don’t even know who I’d ask.”

“What about that young man you’re friends with? What’s his name, Charles?”

I laugh at the incorrect name, old habits die hard.

“Charlie, Alana’s brother, but I doubt he’d do that. He’d help me with just about anything, but he likes his privacy and stays to himself. He wouldn’t want to be in the middle of all of that.”

“I bet he would if you asked. Doesn’t hurt.”

“I don’t know, Rhon. This whole thing is embarrassing as it is. If I ask, I’m going to have to explain why I need a fake date and I’m not sure I want to do that.”

“Well, you’re going to have to explain it to whoever you convince to help you out. Might as well be someone you can trust not to judge,” she says.

“That’s not a bad point. I’ll think about it.”

We continue working on our projects and the women tell me all about their week. They have their fair share of drama here, surprisingly enough. There was a plant stolen off of Linda’s front step and apparently George is trying to get Gladys to have dinner with him. It’s all very intriguing.

I leave feeling happy and less stressed. The two hours I spend with these ladies always leaves me feeling refreshed and I think it’s because I don’t have to think about all of the other things happening in my life, and if I do they almost always help me solve whatever problem there is.

I mull over Charlie being my fake date the entire way home. I’m almost certain he’d turn me down if I asked. I’m his little sister’s best friend, and while we are very close I don’t think he’d be comfortable with something like this.

I push the idea out of my mind and resolve to try and figure out who else I could ask. Pulling out my phone, I scroll the dating app Hinge while I sit on the subway. After about five minutes of absolutely nothing, I lock it in frustration and throw it back into my purse. I lean my head back against the car and close my eyes; this is a problem for future Cami to solve.