Knots and Crafts

FRANKIE

"Read this and tell me what's wrong with it," Jay says, tapping the paper in my hands. 

"'Two p.m., Community Craft Tent. Intro to Rope with Jay.'" I hold the festival program up to the light, in case the words have changed. "'All ages welcome. Bring your own twine.'"

I drop the paper, fighting a smile. "Oh dear."

"They said to bring your own twine, Frankie. Twine!"

I glance back at the program. "They've scheduled you between Beginner Crochet and the Cub Scouts trying for their knot badge."

My gorgeous, tattooed, professionally certified rigger husband has been booked and confirmed for a family craft session.

Don't laugh. Don't laugh. DON'T LAUGH!

I snort, ducking my head as he sighs heavily. 

"It's okay. You can laugh." 

Giggles explode, and I turn into a silent seal as I lose it over this hilarity. 

The Disability Pride festival has taken over Capricorn Cove's waterfront. Track matting runs from the parking lot to the main stage in wide gray ribbons. There are support volunteers waiting to assist, and power banks available to recharge assistant equipment.

The July sun has brought everyone out. There's people wearing a cacophony of colour, guide dogs in rainbow bandanas, and laughter everywhere. A barbecue tent pumps fatty smoke that carries delicious scents on the summer sea breeze. The whole event smells of sunscreen, sweat and grill char.

It's the best thing I've seen all year, and I watched Jay assemble flat-pack furniture shirtless without swearing.

"To be fair," I say, once I recover, swiping at my eyes. "If I remember correctly, Gladys asked what a rigger does, and you said 'work with rope.'"

"Am I wrong?"

"Gladys is seventy-eight, babe. To her, that's a man who ties useful knots."

"I sent her my website."

"Gladys still gets her granddaughter to print her emails."

Jay drags a hand down his face. "I'll find her. We'll need to cancel."

"You will not." I'm already move out of the shade, phone in my lap, thumb on record. "This is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and I host a sex podcast for a living."

"Frankie...."

"Jay. How hard could this be? Just teach them some ties or something."

He blows out a breath. "This is going to be a disaster."

I pat his arm. "And I can't wait." 

While Jay heads off to find rope that won't scandalize a Scout leader, I snap a photo of the program and send it to the group chat along with an image description for Flo. 

ANNIE: please tell me you're recording this!!????

FRANKIE: Tripod's already in the van.

MAI: OH MY GOD!! THIS IS HILARIOUS!!!

FLO: please tell me he's going through with it

FRANKIE: Oh, he is. I'm making him. 

ANNIE: stream it. STREAM IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FRANKIE: It's a family event, so no. But I will share a clip or two after.

FLO: have we told you lately that we love you?

MAI: Theo's already planning to get him a scout leader badge for Christmas. 

I chuckle, slipping my cell back in my pocket. 

By five to two, the Community Craft Tent holds eleven Cub Scouts, two Scout leaders, six ladies from the Auxiliary who brought their own twine, a man named Gary, and one grandmother in the front row with a potted fern on her lap.

I park my chair at the end of that row, set up the tripod and press record.

This is going to be absolutely hilarious!

"Before we begin," says the taller Scout leader, clipboard out, "are you accredited for youth instruction?"

"My Working With Children Check came through last week," Jay says. "Gladys is all over it."

"What's the breaking strain on that rope?" asks an Auxiliary lady whose name tag reads STEF, pen already moving.

"Depends on the rope, the load, and the angle of pull."

"Lovely." She writes all three down.

Gary raises his hand. "Is this like macramé? Because my therapist says I need a hobby that isn't emailing my ex-wife and that's the only thing I've been good at."

"Kind of," Jay says, shooting me a look as I giggle. "But with bigger objects."

The grandmother in the front row lifts her fern. "I've brought my own project. The Home Depot hanging-basket instructions have a flaw in step four and I want a professional opinion." She pats the pot. "His name is Gerald. He doesn't travel well."

I have to turn away to hide my laughter. 

Jay sighs, and rolls up his sleeves. "Let's get started."

He pivots from tying up people to teaching them knots they can use to hang plants and other homeware. 

A kid puts his hand up. 

"Yes?"

"Can we use this on people?"

Jay's gaze lifts to meet mine across the tent. His expression says everything. 

I'm dead. Kill me now. There is nothing that will beat this moment. 

"Sure," he says finally, looking back at the kid. "I can teach you how to make a blanket you can use to drag someone, if you want?" 

Within ten minutes he's created an intricate rug-like piece that the eleven scouts start testing by dragging each other across the tent floor.

Gary asks about the best way to create an intricate pattern and Jay shows him a diamond tie which he normally uses on me but is now creating as a macramé option. 

Jay helps the older woman with her hanging pot, and she nods happily, lifting Gerald as we begin to pack up.

"The Auxiliary does a Christmas float each year," she says, hoisting Gerald onto her hip. "We lost our streamer man to a knee replacement for this year. I'll email you about taking over."

"I don't think—"

"Gladys has your details." She pats his forearm twice. "I look forward to working with you."

Jay looks at me over her head. I shrug, fighting a smile.

Welcome to community service, babe. There's no safe word.

After everyone leaves, we shut the tent up tight, and move around, cleaning the space. Jay coils the demo rope slowly, elbow to palm, and I let myself watch. His sleeves are still up, his forearms a public menace.

"Go on," he says, without looking up. "Say it."

"Say what?" I ask innocently. 

He gives me a pointed look. 

"Okay, okay. I have two questions."

"Only two? I'm shocked."

I roll my eyes. "First one, did you enjoy yourself?"

He blows out a breath. "It wasn't horrible."

I push over to him, laying a hand on his arm. "Second question. Does Gerald's harness scale up?"

He pauses, and the air changes. Slowly, he leans down, mouth close enough that I feel the words he murmurs against my lips.

"We'll have to try it and see." 

Oh.

"The festival runs till five," I manage.

His nose skims my jaw, unhurried, and warmth pools low in my belly, spreading slow as honey. He kisses the spot below my ear. "I think we can skip out, don't you?"

I turn my head, leaning in as he kisses me. His lips are warm and unhurried. 

"Home?" he murmurs against my lips. 

"Home." I hold his gaze and let the grin come. "And babe? Bring the rope."

The End