Read Online If Only We by Jessica Sankiewicz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jessica Sankiewicz
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lost there.” And probably will be for a while.
“I forgot to ask you this morning: did you take care of my pants?”
I jump up off the couch. “Oh! I left them in my car.” I run out and come back in with them. “Here you go.”
She reaches in the pocket. “Wow. I can’t even tell the difference from when I bought these.”
I make a face. “You exaggerate.”
She shakes her head. “Really, I can’t.” Her face lights up. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“You can do this,” she says, holding up her pants to me.
“Sewing? I can’t make a career out of sewing.”
She rolls her eyes. “Not just sewing. Mending, hemming, quilting… Ooh! You could design clothes!”
“That's a bit unrealistic.”
“So? Maybe it's so unrealistic that it's possible.”
“I think I just won the rematch.”
“I'm being serious ! Where do all the great ones start? They start with something small, something simple, then they keep going until they reach the top. You could make it into a business.”
I have spent so many years dwelling on one career. Then I spent these last couple of days coming up with others. Never once did I think about starting a business. Me? Running a business of my own? Could I do it? My first thoughts are along the lines of “not going to happen” but I have to keep options open.
She can see me considering the possibility. “Just tell me you'll think about it.”
I smile and say, “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter Ten
Friday, June 8 th
Two days later, I'm still thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about it. There's just something about it that appeals to me. Although I have no clue why it would. I have barely done any bigger sewing projects aside from mending since I was ten.
Lyndsay reiterates it Friday. “My mom still has the sewing machine in the attic somewhere. Remember when we played with it to make quilts for our dolls?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nostalgic smile. “That was fun.”
“See! The look on your face says it all. It’s settled. We’re going to dig it out.” We go upstairs to the attic and find it covered with a film of dust. “There’s step one. Step two is finding some fabric.” She moves the sewing machine out of the way and we open up the boxes nearby.
Dust particles puff up into the air, causing me to cough. “Why are none of these boxes marked?” I ask, setting aside another box to rub my nose.
“They were going in the attic, it didn’t matter. Plus, my mom has a photographic memory of everything up here.” She drops a box down in a huff. “You would think they would be right here.” She walks to the doorway and yells, “Mom! Where’s all that fabric we used to have?”
“It should be up there!” Faith yells back.
“Where?”
“Under the old black and white television set!” Sure enough, there it was.
We take the sewing machine and box of fabric downstairs and set it down on the living-room floor. After moving the coffee table off to the side, I open up the box. I chuckle as I pull out some flowered fabric. “Hey, I used this one to make a scrunchie.”
She laughs. “I think I still have that scrunchie.” She reaches in and then freezes. “Oh my goodness.”
“What?” She holds up one of our quilts. The bright colors clash like an outfit from the eighties. “Oh my goodness is right,” I say as I touch it. “Boy, does that bring back the memories.” Our poor dolls. All they ever wanted was a nice duvet. What did we make them? A crazy quilt.
Faith comes into the room. “When are we leaving for Ben’s house?”
Lyndsay looks at the clock on the VCR. “Crap. In about ten minutes.”
While she gets ready, I move everything out of the way. I almost forgot about their families going to dinner tonight. Aside from the brief moments Lyndsay and I had, most of the week was spent with my family. After the whirlwind of a week I just had, I really need to get out of the house and talk to someone.
And I know exactly
“I forgot to ask you this morning: did you take care of my pants?”
I jump up off the couch. “Oh! I left them in my car.” I run out and come back in with them. “Here you go.”
She reaches in the pocket. “Wow. I can’t even tell the difference from when I bought these.”
I make a face. “You exaggerate.”
She shakes her head. “Really, I can’t.” Her face lights up. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?”
“You can do this,” she says, holding up her pants to me.
“Sewing? I can’t make a career out of sewing.”
She rolls her eyes. “Not just sewing. Mending, hemming, quilting… Ooh! You could design clothes!”
“That's a bit unrealistic.”
“So? Maybe it's so unrealistic that it's possible.”
“I think I just won the rematch.”
“I'm being serious ! Where do all the great ones start? They start with something small, something simple, then they keep going until they reach the top. You could make it into a business.”
I have spent so many years dwelling on one career. Then I spent these last couple of days coming up with others. Never once did I think about starting a business. Me? Running a business of my own? Could I do it? My first thoughts are along the lines of “not going to happen” but I have to keep options open.
She can see me considering the possibility. “Just tell me you'll think about it.”
I smile and say, “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter Ten
Friday, June 8 th
Two days later, I'm still thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about it. There's just something about it that appeals to me. Although I have no clue why it would. I have barely done any bigger sewing projects aside from mending since I was ten.
Lyndsay reiterates it Friday. “My mom still has the sewing machine in the attic somewhere. Remember when we played with it to make quilts for our dolls?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nostalgic smile. “That was fun.”
“See! The look on your face says it all. It’s settled. We’re going to dig it out.” We go upstairs to the attic and find it covered with a film of dust. “There’s step one. Step two is finding some fabric.” She moves the sewing machine out of the way and we open up the boxes nearby.
Dust particles puff up into the air, causing me to cough. “Why are none of these boxes marked?” I ask, setting aside another box to rub my nose.
“They were going in the attic, it didn’t matter. Plus, my mom has a photographic memory of everything up here.” She drops a box down in a huff. “You would think they would be right here.” She walks to the doorway and yells, “Mom! Where’s all that fabric we used to have?”
“It should be up there!” Faith yells back.
“Where?”
“Under the old black and white television set!” Sure enough, there it was.
We take the sewing machine and box of fabric downstairs and set it down on the living-room floor. After moving the coffee table off to the side, I open up the box. I chuckle as I pull out some flowered fabric. “Hey, I used this one to make a scrunchie.”
She laughs. “I think I still have that scrunchie.” She reaches in and then freezes. “Oh my goodness.”
“What?” She holds up one of our quilts. The bright colors clash like an outfit from the eighties. “Oh my goodness is right,” I say as I touch it. “Boy, does that bring back the memories.” Our poor dolls. All they ever wanted was a nice duvet. What did we make them? A crazy quilt.
Faith comes into the room. “When are we leaving for Ben’s house?”
Lyndsay looks at the clock on the VCR. “Crap. In about ten minutes.”
While she gets ready, I move everything out of the way. I almost forgot about their families going to dinner tonight. Aside from the brief moments Lyndsay and I had, most of the week was spent with my family. After the whirlwind of a week I just had, I really need to get out of the house and talk to someone.
And I know exactly
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