Heidi sat on the curb. Knit. Purl. Knit. Purl. Knit. Purl. Don’t think of Wolfgang.
The protestors hunkered down around the little islands of green grass and trees in the parking lot in front of the Army Recruiting Office. Heidi hoped they’d get arrested for their efforts, but there was a rumor swirling that the event had the proper permits.
The preschooler in the mommy group detached from her mothers chest and ambled over to Heidi.
“Whatcher in for?” She lisped.
“Peace.” Heidi didn’t make eye contact.
“Where’s your mommy?” The milk-breathed one asked.
“She’s at home.” Heidi snuck a peek at the child. Her blonde baby curls had gone the way of the Do-Do and were replaced with a bird’s nest of tangles. Or, at least, Heidi thought the child must have once had curls.
The child gave Heidi a sad, sad look. “But what will you do when you get hungry?”
Heidi shrugged. She didn’t have an answer to that one. For the last ten years, when she was hungry, she made some kind of food. That was what independent adults did when they were hungry. But the last three days had been different. “I’ll make do.”
The child patted Heidi’s arm and found herself a seat on the curb. She pulled a fat pink crochet hook from the pocket of her overalls and started in on a ball of cherry red yarn.
Knit. Purl. Knit. Purl. Knit. Purl. Don’t think about being hungry.
Heidi liked the feel of the silk blend yarn, but her hands were starting to itch.
A woman in her mid fifties leaned out from under her umbrella, “That’s a real nice yarn you have there.” She held out a granola bar. “Need a snack?”
Heidi stared at the granola bar. She didn’t need a snack. She needed to reboot her whole life.
“Thanks.” She took the chocolate covered treat and stuck it in the sock that used to have a lot of quarters in it.
“I’m Phoenicia. Good to meet you” The granola bar lady waved her knitting in a friendly greeting.
“Heidi.” Heidi waved her thin strand of knitting in return.
“Making a belt?” Phoenicia snorted.
Heidi tucked her gray yarn under her legs. “No, just knitting. In solidarity.”
Phoenicia nodded in approval. “I’ve got a cooler, if you need something to drink, help yourself. Just finish that row first.” She snorted again. “If you drop a stitch you’ll lose a whole row!” She guffawed. Phoenicia was knitting an afghan that already covered her whole lap and puddled on the ground at her feet.
Heidi fingered her thin length of knitting. A belt. Perfect. If anyone else asked she’d say she was knitting a belt.
Step 3
The next anti-war activity was three weeks away. She’d signed up online to take part in it, but three weeks was a long time to wait. And from all of the online chatter she’d come across it was all above-board. Arrest was unlikely.
Heidi tore out all of her stitching and started again. The eye of the partridge, so good for keeping your sock heel strong, would make a much better belt. All of her papers were tucked safely in a locker in the gymnasium on her campus. If she could get arrested they’d have to deport her.
She longed for them to deport her.
Knit. Slip. Knit. Slip. Knit. Slip. A free trip back to Germany. That’s all she asked.
The door to the recruiting office swung open and two uniformed men came out. They frowned at the crowd gathered in the parking lot. They were both silver haired and handsome. If they had been boys, Heidi might have been able to get into the spirit of the event, but they had clearly lived through Desert Storm at least, and looked no worse for the wear. Jamie turned back to her yarn.
The nursing moms hissed at the men.
The beach-chair knitters booed at them.
The preschooler looked at Heidi with a lifted eye brow. Heidi mouthed a “boo” and the preschooler nodded her approval.
“A bit out of your element, eh?” Phoenicia asked.
“A bit.” Heidi scrunched up her nose.
“You’re a good kid, coming out here all alone. Few introverts make that kind of sacrifice. BOO!” Phoenicia turned to the soldiers.
“Make blankies, not war!” the moms began to chant.
The toddler scooched back over to Heidi. She leaned in and whispered “I don’t like mommy’s scratchy blankies. Can I have your granola bar?” Her fat little fingers snuck into Heidi’s sock and pulled out the snack.
A rush of panic washed over Heidi. Would the mom get mad? She didn’t usually give snacks to strange kids. Would she get in trouble? Her heart raced. If it looked like she was trying to snatch a child she could get herself deported.
Or would she?
She looked over at the chanting moms. She might just get locked up forever if she kidnapped an activist’s kid. “Better not.” Heidi slipped the bar back out of the child’s hand.
The preschooler’s face crumpled in slow motion. First her brow wrinkling. Then her eyes disappearing into slits of anger. Then her mouth. First, a compressed line, lips white. Then a big black “O” of disappointment. A wail of anguish like a siren rose out of the tiny person.
The woman who had been nursing her flipped in her chair. Two women next to her pressed their hands on their chests. “Great,” one said to the other, “Now I’ll have a wet shirt all day.”
“What did the bad lady do to you?” The woman’s voice carried even over her child’s crying. She gave Heidi the evil eye.
“She took my sna-a-a-a-a-ack!”
The ruckus caught the eye of the taller of the silver haired soldiers. He narrowed his eyes at the women.
“Heidi?” Phoenicia said. “I would have given you another one.” Her voice was disappointed.
“I just, I didn’t want to give her food. I’m a stranger.” Heidi held out her hands in confusion. Her yarn slipped off of the needle.