As I unraveled the yarn Mrs. B asked, "Are you sure you want to start with the intarsia technique? It's quite difficult."

I nodded grimly. "You know the story, Mrs. B." I'd told Mrs. B and her daughter Dorothy the whole sad saga of my relationship with Sam and how I'd fucked it all up. Mrs. B patted my arm. This was my grand gesture. I was going to knit Sam an afghan and take it to her the next time I had a three-day leave, which might not be before my contract ran out if my CO had anything to say about it.

“Well, I think this is very sweet and if it doesn’t win her back, then I have a wonderful grandniece over in Sausilito. She’s a nurse and you two would get along great.”

“Thanks, Mrs. B.” Never going to happen, I thought, but I just gave Mrs. B a smile and tried to figure out when I was supposed to bring in the opposite colored yarn. Because I was paying such close attention to her, I almost missed the commotion at the front of the store that stirred up when Hamilton and Ruiz from my platoon burst in.

"What're you guys doing here?” I asked suspiciously. Quickly, I moved the yarn stuff to the side and pretended like I was just relaxing. On a sofa in a yarn shop. With Mrs. B sitting right next to me.

“What are you doing here?” Hamilton scanned the shop in disbelief. “Is this a store for old ladies?”

“No, you dumbass, it’s a yarn store.” Given that everyone else in the shop was likely over fifty, I could see how Hamilton made that error. “What’re you doing here?” I repeated. Standing up, I glowered at both of them.

"We followed you.”

"What the hell!” I practically shouted it out. Mrs. B made a clucking sound of disappointment. “Sorry, Mrs. B.”

"We heard a rumor." Hamilton lowered his voice but he was a drill instructor and the low voice of a DI is pretty much normal tone for anyone else. "You leaving the Corps because you want to knit? How come you can’t do both?”

“I’m guessing that Carrie’s saying I'm not re-upping for another contract because being near one of you and not having you is too painful for me. Which of you is the lucky guy?"

Ruiz jerked this thumb toward Hamilton.

“I’m a pretty tempting package.” Hamilton smoothed a hand down his shirt. “I do tend to drive the ladies wild. Good to know my animal magnetism affects the lads in equal measure.”

Ruiz looked upset and near bursting with something to say.

“What is it, Ruiz?”

"Why not me instead of Hamilton? Don't you think I'm attractive? Fun to be with?"

We both stared open mouthed at Ruiz. Hamilton recovered first. “Dude, what?”

Ruiz looked offended. "Just wondering why Hamilton?"

“Oh Jesus H. Ruiz, really?” I ran my hand over my recently shorn head.

“Yeah, I mean he's not better looking than me.”

“That's not what your mom said last night, Ruiz,” Hamilton shot back, offended that Ruiz thought that he was better looking.

I shook my head. Of all the comments Ruiz could make. Throwing my arm around the smaller guy, I said, “Ruiz, you’re just too short for me.” And then I thought about Sam and her small frame, which fit me just fine. “Plus.” I dropped my voice low enough so just Ruiz and Hamilton could hear. “Hamilton’s got a small dick and I’m the only one who doesn’t care about that.”

“Fuck you, Phillips. My dick is just fine. Your sister…”

“I don’t have a sister, fuckwad,” I cut in, forgetting about where we were. "You assholes. Knitting has fuck all to do with sex.”

Dorothy came over with a big-ass frown on her face and I felt horrible. “Sorry, Dorothy, forgot where we were.”

She shook her head and gestured toward the door. “Why don’t you go outside and finish your profanity-laced sex discussion there?"

“Sorry.” Abashed, I started out the door. I’d have to bring a big arrangement of flowers or something next time so that Dorothy and her mom would let me back into the store. Ruiz and Hamilton shuffled behind me, mumbling, “Sorry ma’am” to everyone as we walked out.

"No, don't let them leave," another lady cried out.

"God, no. Who cares what they’re saying? We haven't had such eye candy in here since the last Lion trunk show."

"Oh, honey, if you're comparing yarn to this, you need to get out more."

"You're right. Hot young Marines just don't measure up to Lion yarn,” the other woman shot back sarcastically.

Once outside I realized I’d forgotten my knitting. Thankfully Mrs. B stuck her head out the door and handed me my pack. "You're improving. Come back next week and I'll help you again."

"Thanks, Mrs. B.” I took the bag.

"Don't forget, the color switch happens in the back. Trap the yarn, dear, in the back."

Hamilton and Ruiz started snickering. Mrs. B gave us a cheery wave and I stomped off to my truck without looking back. I could hear the dickwads clumping behind me like they were going on a march.

"In the back." Hamilton and Ruiz roared.

Later that evening, Hamilton came over.

"You think this is the most girlie thing ever?" I gestured with my needles. Hamilton took a long swig of his beer and then watched me fumble with the yarn for a few rows.

"Maybe if you were any good at it."

"I think my fingers are too big."

"That's what the ladies tell me too."

Shaking my head, I eyed the pattern Mrs. B had drawn for me to see how crappy the next few inches should look.

Hamilton offered his own assessment. "Looks like a piece of dog crap if he ate the yarn, got the runs and then shit it out."

"Thanks, man." I threw it down. "Fuck. What am I doing?"

"Don't know. What are you doing?"

"Why do we fight, Hamilton?"

"To protect our country, preserve freedoms, uphold the honor of the Corps."

"But what's the point of all that?"

"Regular access to prime pussy?"

“God. No.” I rubbed my head. But truthfully I had gotten it into my head that Sam would forgive me if she could see how much effort I was expending on her behalf. Did it make sense? In my confused, fucked-up mind it did. Sighing, I said, “Close enough." I picked up the needles again.

"So knitting is the same as being in the Corps?”

"Close enough,” I mumbled again and set to work once more.

Samantha

I PULLED UP TO THE Anderson house. It was a large brick monstrosity. I think about five families could have fit into the Anderson home but it housed only two people now—David and Carolyn. I guess that's why it was so easy for them to remain married despite the fact that they didn't really care about each other. They spent weeks without seeing each other. I walked around to the side door, the one I'd always used, and let myself in. Donna, the Anderson’s housekeeper, was sitting at the gleaming marble island, a coffee cup by her side, flipping through a magazine. "Hey, Sam," she greeted me as I snuck in.

"Carolyn around?"

"In the sunroom." Donna started to rise and get me something to eat but I waved her off.

"I don't need anything, Donna. I'm not even sure how long I'll be." Even though I'd planned my speech to Carolyn all night, I was feeling nervous and sick to my stomach. I wished Tucker was here or that David was better at comforting his wife. Worried that Carolyn was going to need someone, I planned to talk to Tucker directly after.

Donna gave me a concerned look, but I was halfway through the kitchen and out the door before she could ask me what was wrong. The sunroom was a long, screened-in porch that overlooked the pool. When we were younger, Tucker, Will, and I all played out here, but when my parents moved out west of town and installed a pool, we started gravitating toward my house.