Real Men Knit(16)
Kerry frowned. When she’d started on her degree work, it did seem like all she thought she wanted, but somewhere along the way things started to get muddled. Yes, she still had a passion for the kids, and sure, there was still a simmer of a dream in her heart of doing more, getting out of the shop and making things better for the community. However, after working at the center and seeing firsthand the setup and system of things, the frustrating bureaucracy, the way it—dammit—felt like every freaking deck was stacked against Black and brown kids, she wondered if she could truly be effective. And honestly, she wondered if she’d ever feel as fulfilled as when she was giving knitting classes to the children side by side with Mama Joy.
But would this make Mama Joy happy? Kerry knew it sure as hell wouldn’t make her mother happy. Both she and Mama Joy agreed on the fact that her degree would take her out of the shop, and if her mother had it her way, further than their Harlem neighborhood. It was her mother’s dream for her. Not that it was something new. A version of that dream was dreamed by just about every low-income mother from every low-income urban neighborhood. But why was that the ultimate dream?
Kerry frowned. She knew she couldn’t stay outside in the heat mulling over it all much longer though and made a swift turn at the corner of 145th and Eighth Avenue and started up the hill, breaking into even more of a sweat. The comfortable morning had morphed into an uncomfortably hot afternoon, and perspiration crept down the center of her back. Kerry shifted her tote from one shoulder to the other to prevent the digging from making too deep a mark in her flesh as she let her questions and uncertainties rattle around in her head.
She didn’t know what had made her walk out from the kitchen like she had, nor what had caused her to make her declaration in front of the brothers. It was as if she was hopped up on some sort of superwoman ego trip. Marching in there in the middle of the four Strong brothers and making her declaration like she was some sort of female supreme ruler. She shuddered. Just thinking about it gave her a slightly heady feeling. Still, she must have been out of her damned mind.
Who knew? Maybe it was the emotion of the past week, the photos in the kitchen that morning, little Errol Miller, or maybe it was Jesse and those dammed body-hugging briefs. Either way, all of it worked together and put her in the uncomfortable position of not wanting to let go of her present life without at least some sort of fight.
If only Mama Joy had had the same option. Kerry stilled as the memory of Jesse and his brothers arguing that morning came back to her. Who knew, maybe the dead woman did, in a weird, roundabout kind of way. Kerry felt it when she heard Jesse fighting so hard against his brothers and all their reservations. His strong words and fierce determination were what gave her the final bit of courage she needed to step out from the back of the shop and propel herself forward to the front.
Still, she couldn’t help but have serious doubts. Doubts and at the same time a strange sense of hope. When she’d gone into the shop that morning, she’d thought the brothers would surely make the decision to close. That Jesse would be the main one behind that decision. To her, though she didn’t doubt his love for Mama Joy, he seemed the main one who would want to take his share of the proceeds, then cut and run. Go on to sunnier, possibly more beachy pastures. The type where the women were plentiful and wore fewer clothes in the winter months. Hearing him talk about Mama Joy and what she meant to them, as boys and as men—it touched her in the most profound way.
The fact that Jesse still felt a connection to the shop and the more unbelievable fact that he’d rallied so fervently for the things that Mama Joy had worked so hard for stunned Kerry. She could admit it hit her hard. Harder than she ever expected. And, at the same time, it had softened her. Softened her toward Jesse in a way that she honestly didn’t want to be softened. In a way that probably wasn’t quite safe.
It had her thinking about all the years she spent trying to ignore the feelings she had for him while she watched him flutter in and out of the shop on his way to meet this girl or hook up with that one. And it had her thinking of all the lost hours spent daydreaming about him as she mindlessly knit one, purled two and imagined him tangling his fingers between her own as he took the yarn from her hands and pulled her into a kiss.
Ugh. What a dummy she was. Stupid girly dreams wasted on a boy who never even looked her way. And now here she was, a grown-ass woman and still in the same space, giving up her time for his dreams. She was sure once her mother got wind of the situation, she’d parrot back some form of those exact same words. Not that her mother had a leg to stand on, but still, it wasn’t a conversation Kerry was looking forward to.
She let out a frustrated sigh as she opened the door to the community center. But then relief washed over her as the cool blast of air from the newly installed air conditioner hit her mercifully in the face. Maybe she’d just let that whole conversation wait as long as possible. She’d only committed to a short time at the shop, just long enough to get them on their feet, and after that she’d be free to pursue her own track. She might be on to another job by the time her mom was any the wiser.
The sound of children’s laughter mixed with the occasional low conversation permeated Kerry’s ears as she made her way through the community center’s halls. A little girl came running out of one of the classrooms at top speed, her high pigtails bouncing. “Whoa! Slow down, Imara.” Kerry held up a cautious hand to the child. “You know running in the halls is not allowed,” she said softly though sternly.