Still, Kerry knew she owed much to both Mama Joy and her friends in the OKG. No, there wasn’t much you could get past them, but she and many on the block were grateful for it. Around here, it wasn’t always cool to go the “if you see something, say something” route. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but facts were facts, and there definitely hadn’t always been the most amiable relationship between residents and the NYPD. Folks had to learn a different way to help each other out with neighborhood watches and small groups of friends who became family when 911 didn’t always show up like the cavalry, and at times you didn’t know who was the protector and who was the predator. So yeah, Kerry owed them and Mama Joy a lot, and it went further than yarn and double stitches.
At first they taught her to crochet, going from chain stitches to granny squares, then, as she grew in age and skill, moving on to knitting scarves and hats, then from there onto anything she could imagine. But more than the projects, it was the comfort she got just being welcomed into their group when she’d stop by early before school and then after school instead of sitting at home alone for hours on end, listening to the constant fighting between her upstairs neighbor and her horrible husband as Kerry waited for her own ma to get off work. Or more importantly, during those times when her ma had her own problematic love she’d dragged into their lives and Kerry just wanted an escape.
Either way, Mama Joy had long given up on believing or listening to Kerry’s excuses for stopping in and just started setting a biscuit and yarn aside for her, having it all ready, the biscuit wrapped in a paper towel alongside a cup of sweet hot chocolate when she was little, and later coffee when her beverage habits changed in high school.
Kerry closed her eyes a moment. Would she really never hear Mama Joy’s voice again? “Come on in, child, and get you some nourishment before you pass out. You need this strength with the way things are out there. A woman’s got to have all her wits about her.”
“Damn straight,” Ms. June would chime in while not breaking stride in her stitch work.
“Amen to that,” Sister Purnell would say, topping off yet another hat or scarf for her church homeless drive or Ms. Cherry’s Angel Tree kids.
Kerry smiled, the pain now excruciating. Little did Mama Joy know that just being in those women’s presence was all the nourishment that she’d needed. Probably it was all anyone really needed when they took refuge in her little shop. Sure, people may have initially come for the yarns or the knitting or crochet needles or patterns, but it was Mama Joy’s seemingly never-ending wellspring of love and sacrifice, which somehow didn’t come off as a sacrifice, that kept her and everyone else in the neighborhood coming back.
A small smile or a hug from Mama Joy and, well, you felt like you’d just had the best meal of your life. Cinnamon biscuit or not.
Kerry felt lucky to have been on the receiving end of that hug or whatever Mama Joy was giving out. A fact that in the beginning was both a blessing and a sore spot for her mother. She was a single parent who worked two jobs that barely added up to one. And a young mother on top of it—who, yes, Kerry was sure, she guessed, tried her best to be mature. But at times the dip-and-do bug grabbed her and she didn’t really want the responsibility that came with the constant mothering of an introverted kid.
Though Kerry’s mother had her reservations about Kerry spending so much time in the shop, when her mother wanted time to herself or the apartment got a little tight for more than two, well then, Mama Joy and Strong Knits became just that much more of a tolerable solution.
Still, the sticking point that brought up problems between Kerry, her mother and any other neighborhood person with a curious mind and flapping gums was the other elephant in the shop, or four elephants, as it were. Specifically, Mama Joy’s four adopted sons—Damian, Lucas, Noah and Jesse—and the fact that they were in and out of the shop while Kerry was spending so much time there.
Kerry thought of her mother, the neighborhood gossips and talk of her and the guys, and snorted to herself. As if her being around ever mattered to the Strong brothers.
Brought in from the foster system to live with Mama Joy when they were all in grade school, the boys ended up being adopted by Mama Joy and taking on her last name of Strong when they were in high school—and by then each was in some way ironically living up to the Strong surname. Kerry was constantly, even still to this day, questioned by her mother and anyone else with half a curious mind about her relationship with the guys and which one of them she was dating. As if any of them thought of her as little more than “Kerry Girl,” the shop fixture and a general nuisance to be tolerated.
Though Kerry’s mother was fine with her spending time in the shop and learning about knitting and business from Mama Joy, she could never quite get behind her daughter being in constant close proximity to the Strong brothers. Who knew—maybe her mother was right. With her track record for sniffing out heartbreakers and, let’s face it, general assholes, she was a bit of an expert in the field. Not that her mother had learned anything, being currently lost in love on yet another potential would-be asshole binge. Kerry prayed that this one would be the last. She’d had it with her mother’s disasters and, afterward, having to pick up the pieces. Besides, this last one had taken her ma clear out of state and given Kerry their apartment to herself. She loved her mom, but she loved having her own place almost as much.
It was then that a distinct beeping took Kerry out of her musings. Beep . . . beep . . . beep, beep, beep. Speeding up. Oh crap, the alarm!
Kerry ran behind the door to punch in the code. That would be everything she didn’t need. She was not in the mood to deal with explaining to the NYPD why she was in a shop that she may or may not still be employed at while the owner was not only not present, but recently deceased. Making sure the alarm was disarmed, she let out a breath, then looked around at the uncommon emptiness. The silence shrouded her as she walked forward and once again locked the front door, her eyes skimming across the flipped-over closed sign that had been in that position for the past week and a half, its possible permanence weighing heavy on her heart.
She shrugged. Nothing she could do about it. Whether the sign eventually flipped back or not was up to Jesse and his brothers. Well, mostly his brothers, really. What would Mr. Party All The Time seriously have to say about opening or closing the shop? What would he care beyond the fact that he’d have to find another place to park it when he was between women? As of late, when Kerry took notice, she couldn’t help but observe that he’d been more out of the house than home anyway. Taking longer and longer stints staying with whomever he was seeing at the time.
Still, she thought, it wasn’t as if Jesse didn’t care. He wasn’t that callous. He loved Mama Joy, loved her fiercely, in fact. All four of them did. But she knew they all had separate lives to live, and, thinking clearly, Kerry could not imagine those lives including keeping Strong Knits open. That hard truth said, she had to face the fact that it was time for her to move on and, once and for all, grow up and see her life clearly without the sanctuary of Strong Knits to fall back on.