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Svetlana has always had a few hobbies that keep her sane. Tennis, baking, knitting. When one got too tiring or excessive, she would move on to the next. She can only play so much tennis before she runs out of opponents, or tires herself out, but it’s almost always the former. Baking is wonderful until you have three cakes in the house and no one wants to take them because they’re still not finished with the cookies you gave them last week. That makes knitting her go to, and about once a year she goes and sells whatever she’s made that wasn’t for someone in particular at a market.
She has a lot more free time for her hobbies now that she has split custody of her kids with Anatoly. She had been worried to be without them for a week at a time, but Anatoly is and always has been a capable father, and the kids like Freddie. They don’t dislike Florence either. All in all they had adjusted to the new dynamic better than anyone could have hoped for.
Florence has never been good at relaxing. When she gets stressed it all sits on her and dissipates slowly on its own- that is, if more stress isn’t piled on top first. A book and a nice bath do wonders but Svetlana can see that she’s tense more often than not.
So Svetlana offers to teach Florence how to knit. She’d given Florence a number of garments in the past; socks, a sweater, two separate hats. Florence doesn’t wear the sweater much, always sensitive about clothing up around her neck, something Svetlana didn’t know before she made it. Florence is always freezing, and the nice warm wool has a way of reminding Svetlana of her, so before she knows it the absentminded movements result in a piece of clothing just Florence’s size.
Of course Florence is over the moon to be shown a new skill. She doesn’t know what to do with herself, finding chess stresses her out since Bangkok came and went, and long before that if she’s being honest with herself. She spent so many years of her life with nothing to show for it. Maybe a hobby where she gets a tangible thing out of it would be nice. They set aside an upcoming afternoon for it.
-
“Like this.”
“I’ve watched you do it before, I know- hm?”
“More like this.”
They’re already off to a good start and giggling over Florence's awkward grasp on the needles. She has the bigger ones, easier to hold on to. Svetlana used them when she started. They were a gift from her own mother, so she had to take them with her when she moved, even when trying to pack as light as possible to make the trip halfway across the world easier. Florence's uncertain hands remind her of her own as a child, holding the same needles. She had been so small she wrapped her whole fist around them, but Florence's hold is delicate. Almost nervous. She knows how important the needles are to Svetlana.
Svetlana takes Florence's hands in her own to correct her positioning. “There you go.” They’re sitting on the floor with Svetlana's impressive collection of various yarns laid out in front of them.
“Do your hands not hurt like this?” Florence is concentrating incredibly hard on her hands. They shake a bit while holding the position.
Svetlana laughs. “A bit, after a while. You see, I tend to move my hands while I knit.” She picks up her own needles and offers them to Florence. “These might suit you better. We can get you your own needles that fit your hands once you learn.”
Florence pulls away, insistent on continuing with what she has. Svetlana offered something special to her and she’s going to use it. “They’re fine. I’m just not used to it.”
“Suit yourself.” Svetlana starts to prepare her own yarn. She did Florence's for her before they began. “Let me know if you change your mind. They’re more sentimental than functional. I haven’t used them in at least a decade.” She remembers exactly when she last used them, seven years ago knitting a hat for her soon to be born daughter. She doesn’t specify this in order to not make Florence any more nervous in handling them.
They start. Svetlana brought out a book that she bought a while back that illustrates some more complicated techniques, but it has the basics too. While Svetlana can show her in person, even hold her hands and help her do it just right, the pictures are helpful to look at for quick reference.
Svetlana makes the first few movements. “Let's start slow. Like this.”
Florence copies. It looks like she did it correctly, but the yarn doesn’t stay looped like it’s supposed to. “...Darn.”
“Let me see.” Svetlana leans in close to watch as she tries it again. Another fumble. “Oh, that’s it.” She corrects Florence.
“Thank you.”
They keep going like that for a while. Progress gets made, but not much. Florence still struggles to get any significant piece going. In theory it isn’t hard, but the learning curve and seeing how quickly Svetlana can work, even when being casual, is taunting. It’s a worthwhile skill, but she isn’t finding it relaxing. She’s no quitter. It will be relaxing eventually if she puts her mind to it.
The sun goes down and they’ve lost all track of time when they finally call it quits for the night.
Svetlana kisses Florence on the forehead as she gets up to go heat up some dinner for them. They’re on day three of a big roast Florence cooked, and at this rate it might last them the week in various forms. Sandwiches, Soup, on pasta, and so on. “It’s looking great. We’ll pick it up again on, hm… Thursday?”
Florence gets the feeling that hers does not, in fact, look great. To Svetlana it’s promising, already lovely. She looks at it and she sees something Florence is making, and that makes her love it. “I’ll pick away at it before then, but yeah. That sounds good.”
She puts it away and is a bit relieved to stop.
-
They keep their plans and sit back down together that Thursday. Florence has it down for the most part, but she’s still slow and the positioning still hurts her hands. Now that they don’t need to pay such close attention to each other, they curl up on the couch together and listen to the radio. Florence is still not enjoying herself.
She's not stressed, but that comes down to cuddling with Svetlana more than anything. She'd never do this alone. She just can't see this becoming anything, can't see herself or anyone else wanting to wear it. It's not quite right. She unravels the same part six times before she finally gets it right. It's still not the way she would like it. She struggles not to show her frustration. This shouldn't be as hard as it is- she’s doing fine , it's just not the way she'd like it to look. She's nothing if not patient but she spends that patience on her work, she has plenty to spend here if she needs to but that's not the point. The point is to relax. She's trying too hard to relax.
Svetlana must have noticed her frustration. "How are you making out?" She's making socks. They're far along.
"Great." Florence says, sweet but unconvincing. Why is she sinking so much time into this if this is how she feels ? Svetlana, of course. She doesn't want to dismiss something Svetlana has spent her time carefully teaching her.
Svetlana puts her half made sock on the table and shifts around so Florence is laying in her arms. "You don't like this, do you?"
"What do you mean? I love it."
"You're looking at that scarf like you want to kill it." She gives Florence a squeeze. Florence smiles for the first time since they sat down. "Don't torture yourself with this. It's just something to try. We didn't even spend any money on supplies for you."
Florence drops the project onto her legs. "It's going to be relaxing eventually. I just need to practice."
"Maybe." Svetlana draws little circles with her finger on Florence's shoulder. "Nadia hated it when I taught her. She wound up finding out she loves Embroidery."
Florence is reminded of all of Svetlana's shirts with little embroidered details. They're so pretty, asymmetrical little groupings of flowers, hearts, words Florence can't read written in a lovely cursive. The idea of Svetlana's youngest daughter taking her mothers shirts and sewing art into him, hours and hours spent on those beautiful images that Svetlana cherishes so much.
"That's lovely" Florence's shuts her eyes, content to drift off to sleep in Svetlana's arms.
"Let me take you to the market this weekend. I'm going to have a stall anyway. Why not take a look around? You might find some inspiration in the other craft stalls."
Florence nuzzles her head into Svetlana's chest. "That sounds fun." She yawns.
Svetlana thinks maybe Florence doesn’t hate this, maybe she confused Florence being tired for that. Florence always looks a bit grumpy when she’s tired. Normally that’s because she is. But, no, Florence is eager to abandon this. That’s just fine with her. She worries that Florence thinks she’s hurting her feelings, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s just happy Florence wanted so much to bond over one of her hobbies, it doesn’t matter that she realizes it wasn’t for her. The little misadventure is worth it for this alone, Florence falling asleep on her like this. It’s nice. Well worth a few hours of half-wasted time.
-
The market is busy. It’s June, when a lot of the people who only sell once or twice a year set up. The cold months have passed, when people are inside more often and subsequently spend more time working on their goods. Off season, the market is filled more with foods than anything, but there’s a good mix now.
Florence had never gone to one of these. It’s only Svetlana's third time, she’s come every year since moving here. Florence always seems to be working around this time. Florence had actually been supposed to be working, but she had managed to move some things around to be off. She failed to mention that to Svetlana, who would have inevitably told her aww, don’t do that for me, don’t worry about it . Florence was, in fact, worried about it. That, and she loves these types of things. There are always so many interesting odds and ends to see.
They’re there at 7am to set up before the 8am open. Florence has no idea how Svetlana did this on her own, there's five boxes to take and they don’t have a car, so they have to take them on the subway. There’s a couple of other vendors when they get there, someone selling honeys and jams and someone selling handcrafted wooden pens. Florence gets distracted for a few minutes before returning to Svetlana to help her set up.
There’s hats, scarves, mittens, socks, and a couple of sweaters. Florence is in awe of how much Svetlana manages to create, more than she would ever need or even use, which of course is why she sells them. They’re lovely. Florence thinks she’s undercharging, but Svetlana assures her that she isn’t doing it to make money and if she charged more she’d never sell it all. She still probably won’t sell it all, but the remainder will be much more manageable to give to people.
“There.” Svetlana smiles, hands on her hips, admiring their handiwork. Everything is meticulously organized to show off her pieces properly. “I have a good feeling about this.”
Florence links her arm into Svetlanas. “People will love them. Don’t they always?’
Svetlana nods. People do. She’s come close to selling out the last two times.
Soon they open and people start coming in. There’s chairs set up behind their table but they go unused. Svetlana is up and talking to people about her merchandise, she’s so enthusiastic about it. Florence could watch her for hours. Scarves and socks go, mainly, and about an hour in she sells a sweater.
Svetlana turns to Florence after the person who bought it walks away. She’s hopping on the balls of her feet in excitement. “He’s so excited about it. Buying it for his wife.” She tells Florence, who heard the whole conversation but would listen to it all again as long as Svetlana is the one telling her about it. “I hope she likes it.”
“I’d love it if I were her.” She kisses Svetlana on the cheek. Svetlana leans in and smiles. “I love mine.”
“I should make you another sometime, then.”
“I’d love you forever. Well, if I could more than I already do.”
Svetlana covers her face while a blush spreads across her cheeks. “Oh, come on.” she giggles. “Weren’t you going to go look around?”
Florence glances around the room. Everyone that will be set up is now set up. “Yep. Need any more help before I go?”
“No, but could you get me a coffee?” Svetlana points at a table across the room. “From her. It’s amazing.”
“Alright. Be back soon. Love you.”
She aims to go counterclockwise and end at the girl with the coffee Svetlana wants so it'll be hot when she gets back. Aims to, and then immediately gets distracted by the pen guy. In her defense he put out some beautiful birch pens since they got there that she just had to ask him about. Then she follows her planned trajectory.
She walks around, sees all of the food that tempts her but goes ignored as she goes about her mission to discover a type of handmade goods that inspires her. Hand sewn garments, plushies, crocheted pieces meant to hold dishes and protect furniture. It isn’t quite for her. Had she not already tried knitting out she might not have recognized that none of these things appeal to her, so at least that came out of trying it.
Then she comes across a table with things she doesn’t recognize. There’s a variety of what looks like small plushies, but when she picks one up it has very little give to it. It’s a little mouse with a wizard hat and a toothpick for a staff. The little guy looks like it’s about to go on a quest. It’s adorable.
“You like him?” The young man behind the table asks.
She turns it around. It has little feet under its robe that you wouldn’t see unless you picked it up. “He’s adorable.” She’s fixated on it, but just can’t figure out how this thing is made. “What is he?”
The man is delighted to have someone take interest. He’s sold a bit already, but the novelty doesn’t wear off. “A mouse wizard.”
“A really cute one. But I mean what is he generally? What is he made of?”
“Oh!” He pulls out a sponge with a bundle of loosely bound blue fibres, wool or something like it. It’s pinned down by a couple of long needles. “They’re felted.”
Florence leans in to get a close look at the partially finished shape. “How does it all stick together?”
“You take the needles,” He pulls one out. “And stab it in like this.” he demonstrates. “Over and over until the wool becomes a big knot, basically.” He shows her the needle. She can see the little punctures all over his fingers where he must have jabbed himself. “There’s little grooves in the needles that tangle them together.”
Florence is immediately excited by this. These are so cute, with so much creativity involved. They’re like little sculptures you can squeeze. More importantly, it looks like they’re easier than most crafts to control down to the smallest detail.
“Where do you find your supplies?” She asks, not taking the time to think more about whether or not this is her winner. Who is she kidding, it is.
He pulls out a business card. It’s not for his business, but he has a small stack of them. “There’s a shop a few blocks over that sells everything you need. They’re great.” There’s an address on the bottom.
“Thanks. I’m going to check them out.” She pockets the card. While she’s here, she buys the mouse wizard she was so entranced by. He had been so nice to her that she wants to support him, and hopefully keeping it around will inspire her.
She turns around and sees Svetlana staring at her from across the room. Svetlana waves to her. She gives a thumbs up, and Svetlana gives one back twice as enthusiastically. Mission success. Svetlana makes a drinking gesture at her to ask hey, can you go get the coffee now? And Florence laughs at how animated the motion was. She nods and sets off for the coffee without finishing her loop. She's already found what she’s looking for.
She comes back with coffee- black for Svetlana, milk and a little sugar in her own. Svetlana accepts it graciously and starts to drink right away. Florence is always baffled about how Svetlana can drink coffee piping hot without waiting for it to cool. “Oh gosh, thank you.” Svetlana sighs. “I was getting ready to abandon my post over here to go get some.”
“I didn’t realize how desperate you were.” Florence pokes fun at her. She must have drank half of it in one go.
Svetlana takes another drink and then points at the little wizard, who Florence placed into her shirt pocket so his little head sticks out. “Who’s that little cutie?”
“Who, me?”
Svetlana nearly chokes on her coffee. “ Florence .” She whines jokingly. “The mouse.”
Florence pulls it out of her pocket to show to Svetlana. “This little wizard is how I’m going to relax.”
“Is he? What a nice little buddy, doing that for you.” Svetlana gives the mouse a little boop on the nose. It’s the way she talks about the kids’ stuffed animals sometimes, like they’re living little creatures with feelings and minds of their own. They might as well be if they hold so much significance in someone's life.
Florence takes the business card out. “Could we go here on the way home? If there’s not much to take back with us.” There won’t be. She’s selling out.
“Of course.” Svetlana loves to see Florence so excited about this. About anything. She’s been so exhausted lately.
They stick together for the rest of the market's duration. Florence gets involved in talking to potential customers. She doesn’t know a thing about the clothes, so has to ask Svetlana whenever someone has a question. There’s a surprising amount of questions asked. Florence supposes that maybe she doesn’t understand the finer points of it well enough to know what one could even ask about something like a knitted pair of socks.
Svetlana sells out with an hour to spare. She’s on cloud nine, has never brought this much and has never sold out before, so this is a huge achievement. She can’t stop bouncing and has a huge grin on her face. Florence is proud of her, also mesmerized by her joy. They both get another coffee and head out.
-
It’s a tiny fibre craft store. Adorable. Florence doesn’t know what to look for, so she asks the employee. She buys a bunch of different colours of wool, about ten grams of each and thirty grams of black and white. She picks up a couple of needles and a sponge as well. Svetlana is entranced by some of the yarn they carry and picks up a blue and white spool while they’re there. The trip is a success all around.
-
Florence sets up on the floor the next day with the sponge on her lap. The mouse is propped up on the table beside her at eye level. It’s watching her. Good luck, she thinks. Svetlana is running errands, so she’s alone for the time being. Question is, where does she start.
Svetlana hardly ever wears any of her own clothing, always gives it away or sells it. Florence decides that she’s going to make something for her. She sorts through some of the colours and lands on a lime green. It reminds her of a tennis ball. Perfect. It’s simple, probably won’t be too hard to start with, and something that Svetlana loves. Plus, the little flyaway fibres will look right at home.
She’s careful not to stab herself. The lump of green wool starts to tangle and bind together, and she has to restart when she picks it up to turn it and find it’s stuck into the sponge. She doesn’t mind. It’s soothing, she finds herself enjoying it already. She smiles. That’s the point. This was a good idea, it turns out.
Svetlana comes back sooner than expected and Florence instinctively hides what she’s doing. The movement is the first thing Svetlana sees when she walks in and she freezes, making eye contact with Florence.
“...Hi.” Florence says, still hiding her work. It’s barely anything yet, but it would be weird to commit to hiding it and then pull it back out.
Svetlana brushes the weird behaviour off when she sees the supplies out. She brings the bag of groceries in and sets it on the counter. “You’re having fun?”
“Yeah. A great time.”
“...Can I see it?”
“Not yet.”
Svetlana gets a warm feeling in her chest. She’s had things hidden from her, always bad things. This is a good thing. A surprise. Even better, a surprise that’s making Florence happy too. “Okay. don’t leave me waiting for too long.”
It lights a fire under Florence to finish it as soon as possible. At the same time, it makes her nervous, feeling like now it has to be just right because Svetlana is anticipating it. Of course she doesn’t have to be nervous. Svetlana would be happy with anything she put effort into.
Svetlana ruffles her hair. “I’m going to read in the bedroom. Call me if you need me.” She hadn’t planned on doing it, but she wants an excuse to leave Florence to her felting. She has a book from the library she needs to finish before she has to return it anyways.
Florence exhales, pulls her work back out, and continues, far more excited now that Svetlana knows she’s getting something.
-
Florence gets busy, so she doesn’t finish for another week. She’s happy with it. It looks just like a little tennis ball and feels like one if it was softer. If they had a dog it would be thrilled with this. Hopefully Svetlana will be as thrilled as the dog she just invented in her mind was.
She cups it between her hands and comes to Svetlana, who’s still trying to finish that book. She has to return it tomorrow. She probably should have finished it by now.
Svetlana puts the book down and makes silent eye contact with Florence, waiting for her to say something. Sure, she could say something first, but that would cut Florence standing there all flustered trying to work up the will to give it to her that much shorter. “What do you have there?” she asks once she’s had her fill, once again unconsciously using her trying-to-get-information-out-of-her-children voice. They’re at school right now.
‘Uh…” Florence opens her hands, revealing the tightly bound little ball. It’s more the size of a small orange than a tennis ball. Making it bigger would have been overkill. “It’s for you.”
“Oh!” She takes it and rolls it around her hands. It feels so nice. She gives it a squeeze and it returns back to its shape within seconds. “You made this out of wool?”
“Wool, yeah. Stabbing it over and over.”
“How long did this take?” Svetlana isn’t judging, rather in awe of the perfect duplicate made from a completely different material. It really is the perfect subject for the medium.
Florence looks embarrassed. “Four hours. I would have finished it earlier, but with work-”
Svetlana pulls Florence down into a hug. “I love it. I’m going to bring it with me every time I play tennis for good luck.” She peppers Florence’s face with kisses, leaving gradually less vibrant lipstick stains in her path. When she lets Florence go, some of the marks are partially hidden by Florence's blushing. “Here’s the important part, did you relax?”
Florence has to think about it. She was a bit nervous with the idea of letting Svetlana down, even though she shouldn’t be, but it certainly took her mind off of stressors. Now that she’s more confident with it, she can see herself doing it absentmindedly with little purpose. “I did.”
“That’s what matters. That’s why you picked it up in the first place.” Svetlana puts her book down and heads for the bedroom. “One moment.”
She rustles around in the back of the closet for a moment before pulling out a little bundle. It’s blue and white, the same swirl and ratio of the yarn she bought at the store last week. The nice, extra soft stuff. She brings it out and unfolds it into a sweater. “For you.”
Florence hesitates before taking it from her. It’s soft . And beautiful. It has a v neck, something Svetlana doesn’t usually make. “It’s so nice…”
“I know you don’t like crew-necks.”
Florence pulls the sweater over her shirt. While it isn’t against her skin everywhere, where it is she can feel just how nice it is. And, even better, it doesn’t come up against the front of her neck. “Sveta…” She doesn’t know what to say. How dare you upstage me like this is on the table. “Thank you so much.”
Svetlana takes her tennis ball and holds it up to the light. “You know, a dog would love this. Not that it would properly appreciate it, of course.”
Florence laughs. “I thought the exact same thing.”
-
It’s a successful endeavour all around. Many rainy days are spent indoors, curled up together, Svetlana making a pair of socks or a hat or something similar, and Florence getting ambitious enough to start making cute little characters. She’s more relaxed than she ever has been. Maybe the stabbing is part of it, a safe outlet for all that aggression, but more likely than that she just enjoys giving life to all of these lovely, soft characters.
The next year they set up a longer table, together, with clothing and small felted animals alike.