Unraveled (Woodlands) by Jen Frederick

covering an expanse of white-painted brick, was a large green felt where my nearly finished knitted American flag afghan hung. I’d finished all the white and red stripes but the blue blocked area where the stars should be had me stumped. I could either try to figure out how to do the intarsia stitch where I’d knit two different colors of yarn at the same time or I’d have to crochet the stars. Neither option enthused me. Tucked amongst all of Will’s Army paraphernalia, was yarn. Lots of it. In a basket near the kitchen, under the sofa, and more upstairs. It was as if I’d tried to fill my life with yarn instead of people. My condo was filled with unfinished knitting projects, balls of yarn, and the relics of my dead husband. So yeah, Mom was right. No wonder Gray had freaked out.
    Setting down her cup of coffee Mom studied me for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts for an important argument. “I think that there is a lot of Will in your condo and that might make it uncomfortable for a new man.” She pointed to my left hand. “Along with your ring.”
    I twisted the ring uncomfortably, hiding the shiny diamond in my palm again so only the plain band showed “I just…don’t know what to do with Will’s stuff.”
    “And you can’t give it to Carolyn?”
    “I tried, early on, but she started crying and said Will would’ve wanted me to have it. I just wanted her to stop crying so I didn’t push it.”
    Mom pressed her lips together, suppressing her real feelings about Carolyn. “Just because you were once married to Will doesn’t mean you’re endlessly responsible for Carolyn’s mental wellbeing.”
    Her use of the past tense when referring to my marriage with Will made me tear up. The two bowls of cereal I’d eaten started to clog my throat.
    “I don’t know why I’m tearful all of a sudden,” I admitted. “You’d have thought that I’d cried enough during that first year to last me for a lifetime.”
    “You’re starting to feel again. You were asleep for a long time. When you wake up sometimes it is painful.”
    Was that it? Was I just waking up and this Gray guy just happened to push the restart button on my libido? The fact was that I’d been thinking about the lack of physical intimacy more and more as of late. I’d like to think it would pass—an illicit thought of seeing him naked in my bedroom sent a minor shiver down my spine, a shiver that didn’t escape the watchful eyes of my mom.
    “Who names their kid Gray?” I asked.
    Mom smirked. “Is that the hottie’s name? Gray?”
    “Hottie, Mom?”
    “I’m down with your lingo. I have clients your age.”
    “Juvenile delinquents?”
    “No, you’re an adult. Full felonies for you.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “Grayson is actually Old English meaning son of a bailiff.”
    “You’re saying my name should be a color.”
    “I thought of naming you Blue but your dad wouldn't allow it.”
    “So I have a boy’s name instead?”
    “It’s gender neutral. Just think of the advantages.” She leaned toward me. “Will I get to meet the man god?” Mom got a lascivious look in her eye.
    “Mom!” I said with outrage. “What would Dad say?”
    “I’m married, not dead.” Mom finished her coffee and picked up Bitsy’s empty bowl and the coffee cup and headed toward the sink. “There’s no harm in looking.”
    I harrumphed and then realized I sounded exactly like the old woman Bitsy had accused me of being. The discussion of Gray had brought to mind his broad shoulders, tapered waist and big hands. I swore I could still feel his tongue running down my neck and the pressure of his erection between my legs. I bit my lip and squeezed my legs to get myself under control. Thank God Mom’s back was to me.
    “Speaking of kids of lawyers, what are you doing, Sam? Not that I mind you bartending but is that really your life’s ambition? I know you signed up for classes at Central because your dad got the tuition waiver but