Fic: Distractions
For brigits_flame Week one prompt of "starting over". It's short (698 words) and the style is definitely NOT my usual fair ... but I like it.
This was inspired by my mom, who is an incredible woman. Enjoy!
Row twenty-four was completed; only another two hundred to go and this panel was done. A line was drawn on the sticky note next to three othersand row twenty-five was started.
The pattern was pretty basic: knit two, purl three, repeat three times, skip stitch, repeat the entire sequence until there were fifty-four stitches in the row. It wouldn’t get tricky until the four inner panels. Just so long as she continued the pattern…
Knit two, purl three, knit two, purl three-
The phone rang shrilly from the kitchen and the long blue knitting needles paused in their rapid clack-clacking. Everything was set aside for the moment, the break in the pattern mentally noted and repeated: twenty-two knit twos, purl threes completed. One more before the skip stitch and repeat.
The phone was answered on the fourth ring, right before it would have gone to voicemail. “Hello?”
“Hey, mom?”
As if there was anyone else at the house right now to answer. “Daughter.”
The response undoubtedly produced an eye roll. “I was just calling to see what’s for dinner.”
Oh. Good question. What was for dinner? The fridge was opened and its contents explored. Seconds stretched by until the answer was discovered: “Pork chops.”
Everyone liked pork chops.
“Ew...”
Okay… Not everyone did like pork chops. “There’s some left over chicken from last night, if you want that.”
Silence met that suggestion, which meant the chicken probably tasted as bad as she’d thought. It was a mystery how salt, pepper and garlic could produce something so bland and dry, but it had.
A resigned sigh came over the receiver, followed by the hesitant query, “What’s being done with the pork chops?”
Translated: please, for the love of God, say dad’s cooking them.
“They’ll probably be baked with salt, pepper and garlic.”
Translated: God doesn’t love you today, kiddo. And right now, you’re testing a mother’s limits as well.
The disappointment couldn’t have been more clearly evident had it been spoken aloud.
“What’s going with it?” - asked in a reluctant grumble.
“Sweet potatoes and a salad.” - said with a good deal of smug satisfaction. It may have been petty to pick sweet potatoes, a known non-favorite, as a side … but it was a mother’s prerogative to be petty.
And if the choice for dinner didn’t meet with approval, well … too bad.
There was another sigh, this time bordering on a groan. “Okay. I’ll just … find something else.”
“Okay! See you later, sweetie.” The words were said cheerfully, but the undercurrent of triumph was still evident.
She hung up and immediately went back to the living room and the waiting pattern. Knit two, purl three … or was it at the skip stitch already?
And how many stitches were already done?
“Shit…” Time to start counting. One knit, two knit, one purl, two purl, three purl…
A loud banging sound came from downstairs - someone was at the backdoor. Someone who was barking loudly to be let in after being forgotten for almost twenty minutes out in the cold snow.
“Shit!”
All the knits and purls and skips were completely forgotten as she rushed downstairs to rescue the poor, freezing dog. Black fur was blanketed in icy white, which was promptly shaken off just inside the doorway - all over her bare feet. Before she could grab a towel, Nellie was upstairs and jumping up onto the couch.
The couch was going to smell like wet dog and would have to be cleaned later. She supposed it was only fair considering she’d forgotten all about Nellie to begin with.
After cleaning up the snow puddles, she went upstairs again. Nellie cracked a eye open from where she was creating a dog-shaped splotch on the long portion but didn't budge as she sat down and picked up her knitting.
Where was she … was it the purl three or starting the pattern over again?
Or was it the skip stitch?
Or the knit two?
How many stitches did she have again?
And where was the sticky note with row slashes?
“Damn it all!” With quick, angry jerks of the yarn, the entire project came undone in her hands.
Okay, starting over - without the distractions. Knit two, purl three, repeat three times, skip stitch, repeat the pattern…
The phone rang.
She let it go to voicemail.