An Illusion of Trust (Sequel to The Brevity of Roses)

by Lewis, Linda Cassidy

  He goes down the slide on his stomach and I give him a thumbs up. “I’ll come play with you in a minute. Let me talk to Aunt Aza first.” As I walk to the bench, I fill my mouth with toast to give me a few seconds longer to figure out what to say. I’m not sorry for what I said to Diane last night, but I feel the need to apologize to Aza for something.

  Aza speaks first. “I’m sorry Diane upset you last night.”

  I wash down the lump of bread with coffee, but I’m too surprised to respond, and she continues.

  “I’m sure she’ll apologize the next time she sees you.”

  I hope that’s never. “She went too far by touching him like that.”

  “She didn’t mean it the way you took it. It’s just … well, you know the story she told about the cruise ship? I’ve heard that a dozen times. Somehow, she works it into the conversation whenever she meets someone new. It makes her feel important. That’s how it is with Jalal. He’s somebody and knowing him makes her feel more like she’s somebody too.”

  “You’re saying she’s a phony.”

  “Not exactly. I mean, I don’t think she lies, maybe exaggerates a little. I don’t think she has many people in her life.”

  “Is that why you’re her friend?”

  “Well … she can be fun.”

  Poor Aza, she’s too nice. “Why hasn’t Diane ever married?” Aza doesn’t answer right away. It’s obvious, from the way her features draw up, she’s trying to decide something.

  “Diane misled you on that one,” she says finally. “She’s divorced. You met him.”

  I shake my head, certain I don’t know any man connected to Diane. Then it hits me. “Scott? The guy who flirted more with Jalal than she did?” Aza nods. “But isn’t he …?”

  “Gay, yes. So you see, she and I do have something in common.”

  “Indeed.” We sit quietly for a moment. Jalal comes out of the house to play with the kids, so I keep talking. “Why are you quitting school?”

  “I told you why.”

  “I get that you want to spend more time with Paul, but I thought you enjoyed your writing classes.”

  She shakes her head. “I really don’t have the talent for it.”

  “Diane seemed to think you just need to give it time. Why don’t you ask Jalal’s opinion?”

  She laughs. “I’m capable of judging for myself. Besides, now that I have Paul, writing doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Jalal said pretty much the same thing to me this morning. About his writing, I mean. So now it doesn’t make sense to me that he’d care about lecturing Diane’s poetry writing class.” Aza only looks at me. Again, her face reveals indecision.

  “Don’t you think it’s natural our priorities change as we age? She nods toward Kristen and smiles. “Can you imagine forever feeling your life is over because you woke up with a zit on your chin?

  “Are you saying this change is something Jalal’s been moving toward for a while?” She nods. “Then why did he agree to talk to Diane’s class?” She stares ahead as though she didn’t hear my question. “Aza?”

  She shrugs. “Jalal is a poet at heart. He didn’t say he’s never writing again.”

  Fifteen

  Our paths cross because she’s still Aza’s shadow, but Diane’s never said a word to me about Jalal’s party, which means she’s not a bit sorry about her behavior. And now she’s spending the morning with Jalal. I’m waiting to hear about his lecture at the college. He left the house nervous and intense, which is not only unusual for him, it doesn’t make sense. He’s given talks like this dozens of times. I’ve planned a special lunch for him, with one of his favorite wines to lift his spirits in case the class didn’t go well.

  He calls just as I’m sitting the kids down at the table.

  “Diane invited me and Aza out to lunch, as a thank you, I guess. Would you like to join us?”

  I dig my nails into my palm and focus on the kids as I fight the urge to scream or cry or both. Then I force myself to smile before I speak so I won’t sound upset. “I’m here alone with the kids, feeding them before they go down for their naps.” He knows our routine, of course. This is just a courtesy call. “Gotta go. Have fun.” I regret my reaction as soon as I click off. He sounded relieved and happy. I shouldn’t have ruined that.

  “Uh-oh,” Mia Grace says.

  I sigh at the sight of noodles slithering off her tray. “You and I are both making messes today, baby girl.”

  I calmly clean up the soup, dish out another helping, and lunch continues. Self-control is one of the hardest things I’ve had to learn as a mother. I’m no longer free to react to bad situations the way I normally would. No cussing, ranting, weeping fits in front of them, not that spilled soup is a cause for one. Your husband preferring the company of someone else is. But I keep smiling as Adam rattles on about blue Morpho butterflies and Mia Grace plays peek-a-boo, and soon it’s time for bed.

  Though we’re in the kitchen, we go down the hall to the front staircase. Miss Independent loves this one because it’s open and she can hold onto the balusters and walk herself up. “Go pee and get in bed,” I tell Adam when we enter the nursery. “I’ll come tuck you in as soon as I change Mia Grace’s diaper.” She’s dropped her naptime nursing. As soon as I stand her in the crib, she plunks herself down and closes her eyes. She’ll fall asleep within a minute.

  At first, when I hear the murmur from Adam’s room I assume he’s pretending to read, but it’s not his voice I hear as I open the door, it’s Jalal’s. For a minute, I stand in the doorway and listen to him read to Adam, and then I slip away to the kitchen. I appreciate that he chose to come home, but now instead of a supportive wife, I look like a petty, jealous one. I’m never going to get this marriage thing right.

  I’ve just finished cleaning up the kids’ mess when he comes downstairs. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I ruined your celebration. Your lecture was a success, I assume.”

  “It went well, yes. And the students asked some good questions. I really enjoyed it.” He glances around the kitchen. “So?”

  “What?”

  “Did you not make me lunch?”

  “How did you … mind reading.”

  He laughs. “I do not read your mind. I know you. And your disappointment was obvious over the phone. I can add two plus two.”

  “Well then, I guess that MBA isn’t a total waste.” I open the fridge and take out the salad and sliced, roast chicken. The table is still set in my favorite place in the house. I hand him the wine to open and add bread and butter to the serving tray. “We’re eating in the sunroom. It’s more cheerful than this kitchen.”

  “Did you expect I would need cheering up?”

  “You seemed so nervous this morning, I didn’t really know what to expect.” I take the opened bottle from him and motion for him to carry the tray.

  “I was uneasy because it was a new situation. My audience is usually older.”

  “Okay,” I say, though I don’t understand what difference age makes. “Are you going to do it again?”

  “Diane’s class? No.”

  “Did she and Aza go on to the restaurant?”

  “I suppose.”

  We talk about other things, mostly the kids, while we eat.

  “That was delicious,” he says and lays his napkin on his plate. “Where did you find the salad recipe?”

  “I made it up. I saw these beautiful ripe pears at the farmer’s market, and I’d already bought the gorgonzola, and you like arugula, so …”

  “Gorgeous, smart, and she cooks too. I am a lucky man.” He raises his glass in a toast.

  “Smart?”

  He arches a brow. “Have you been faking it?”

  “By comparison, I’m—”

  “Who are you comparing yourself to?”

  “Everyone you know.”

  He sits back in his chair. “Agreed, most of the people I know are educated, but never confuse education with intelligence.” The wind picks up, ruffling thro
ugh the birches, making the sunlight dance around the room. Jalal pauses and cocks his head, listening. He smiles. “Now I know why you like to come in here when you want to be alone.” He sets his glass on the table and stands, motioning for me to get up too. He takes two pillows from the couch and tosses them in the middle of the floor. “Come.”

  We lie on our backs, holding hands and gazing at the sky through the glass roof. The swish of leaves imitates the surf. He takes my hand. “We are lying on the beach,” he whispers.

  Despite Jalal’s declaration that writing is not his top priority, he’s been spending a lot more time in his office. He’s not just writing, though, because I hear him talking on his phone. With Lorena still doing the heavy housework, Kristen in school, and Aza frequently traveling with Paul, I feel swallowed up by this big old house. I can only take the zoo so many times in one week, so some mornings, after we have breakfast with Jalal, I pack the kids in the Jeep and head to Bahía de Sueños. This is one of those mornings.

  “We’re almost there.” My announcement spurs Adam to restart today’s language lesson for Mia Grace. He takes his job seriously, doing his best to teach her his words for everything. He began our drive trying to get her to say Granny and Dardo, and he’s frustrated that Nee and Do is the best she can manage. But I’ve noticed he never corrects her when she calls Jalal only Ba or Baba. Maybe he claims Baba Daddy for his exclusive use. Last week, he had a meltdown when he realized her name for him is Dam. He couldn’t understand why we wouldn’t make her obey his order for a time out. Kids are a laugh fest.

  I park in my old space out back and we enter Jennie’s restaurant through the kitchen. “Three of my favorite people,” Eduardo calls out. He dries his hands, picks up Adam, and gives me and Mia Grace kisses on the cheek. “Ice cream, right?” he says to Adam.

  Adam looks to me for permission and I nod. “I’ll go see Jennie.” I’m one step toward the doors to the dining room before Eduardo stops me.

  “She’s at home today,” he says. “Her back again.”

  “Oh. I’ll get the ice cream, then.” Eduardo goes back to food prep while I get Adam in the booster and Mia Grace in the highchair kept in the kitchen for our visits. “Who’s out front?”

  “Our part-time girl, and I’m out there and in here, wherever I’m needed most.”

  Alberto, who’s Eduardo’s youngest brother by twenty years, speaks up. “Connie would be happy to fill-in for Jennie.”

  “I’m working on that, Al.” Eduardo gives me a quick glance, but I know enough not to say anything. Jennie says Alberto’s wife is too bossy. I’ve only met her a few times, but she didn’t seem any bossier than Jennie. In my opinion, fear that her sister-in-law will do the job too well is the real reason Jennie doesn’t want her to work here. Poor Eduardo is caught in the middle.

  “Jennie needs to see that specialist,” I tell him.

  Eduardo smiles sadly. “I’m working on that too.”

  “Finish up, Adam.” I spoon one last bite of ice cream into Mia Grace’s mouth and wet a cloth to clean their hands and faces and the table. “Let’s go see Granny now.”

  “Hey,” Eduardo says, “tell that husband of yours he’d better not come to town again and forget to stop by and say hello.”

  “When did he do that?”

  “Last Thursday afternoon. I was driving back from Blue Point when he turned off Friar onto the highway and flew right past me. Jennie said he didn’t come in here.”

  “You must have been seeing things, Eduardo. Jalal was downtown in Coelho all Thursday afternoon trying to find out if there’s anything we can do about the increase in coyote activity.”

  “Oh. Well then … I guess I saw someone else with a car like his.”

  “I guess so.”

  As I expected, Jennie’s not in bed. She’s doing laundry. “Shouldn’t you be lying down?” I ask her.

  “Hel-eck no. I’d lose my mind. Come give your Granny a kiss, Adam.”

  Because I’d warned him about Jennie’s back he holds back, looking up at me.

  “Oh Renee, you’ve scared him.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell him, “but Granny can’t lift you today, so she’s going to sit down and then you can kiss her.”

  Jennie sighs, but she walks to the couch and eases herself down. “It really only bothers me when I stand too long,” she says as she gathers Adam and Mia Grace to her.

  “I’m making you an appointment with that Dr. Shepherd in L.A. You need surgery.”

  “I don’t want surgery, and besides he’s way too expensive.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Jalal’s money can be used for good, finally.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Adam, don’t jump on the couch beside Granny.”

  “He’s all right. Answer my question. How has Jalal been spending money badly?”

  I shake my head, wishing I hadn’t started this. “He’s not. Forget it. I don’t know why I said that.” She says nothing, but the look she gives me says this conversation isn’t over until she says it is. “Really, Jennie. I don’t know how he spends his money. But I know he can easily pay to get rid of your pain, so I’m making an appointment for a consultation.”

  “Is this something you don’t want to talk about in front of the kids?”

  “Geez. It’s nothing. I told you, I don’t even know why I said anything.”

  “Maybe it was a subconscious thing.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Jennie, I have nothing to do with Jalal’s finances. I don’t know what he does with his money unless it directly involves me or the kids. I don’t even know how much money he has. Okay?”

  Jennie smiles. “So that’s the problem.”

  I just stare at her.

  “Why do you never say our money? It’s always Jalal’s money.”

  “Because it is his money.”

  Jennie says nothing, but she’s chastising me all the same.

  “We have a joint account, of course. I can spend as much as I need.”

  “And yet,” she says, “you resent that arrangement.”

  “Oh my god, Jennie, of course I don’t resent him.” Him?

  She leans forward and pats my hand. “It’s hard giving up control, honey. Believe me, I know. That’s what kept me from marrying Eduardo for so long. But you’ve been married three years. Why is this bothering you so much now?”

  I shrug because I don’t understand it myself. I really have no idea why I brought up the subject. I’ve always been frustrated that Jalal manages our finances, even though he’s the logical choice, but I’ve never resented him for it. How can I resent him for anything? I have everything I need, plus a whole lot more crap than I even want.

  Jennie’s gasp snaps me to attention. Adam fell against her. I snatch him off the couch and set him on his feet. Jennie grabs the remote and clicks the TV on to Nick Jr., preventing a meltdown. In seconds, he’s sitting on the floor engrossed in a Max and Ruby episode.

  “You’re going to make them afraid of me,” she says.

  “Then get the surgery, so they don’t have to be careful.”

  She shakes her head. A moment later she says, “Make the appointment.”

  After the tense beginning, I had a good visit with Jennie. I’m excited to get home and tell Jalal to call in whatever favors necessary to get her in to see that spinal surgeon soon, but first, because Aza’s out of town, I have to swing by the high school to pick up Kristen.

  She starts talking before she even buckles her seat belt. “Will you please talk to Mom about buying me a car? I need one. I’m sick of asking to borrow hers, which I don’t even like. It’s so not cool. I mean, it’s such an obvious mom car—or grandmother car. How much does a Jeep like this cost? Would you mind if I got a pink one too? Should I ask Uncle J to talk to her now, or wait to see what she says to you?”

  “Hello, Kristen. Breathe much?”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry.” She laughs and turns around to say hello to the kids. “A
nyway, will you talk to Mom?”

  “Yes. And if I can’t convince her of this dire need, your uncle will.”

  It takes me a second to register what I’m seeing when we pull up to the house. Diane is walking to her car. My foot taps the brake pedal before I realize I’m not going to stop and acknowledge her presence.

  “What’s she doing here?” Kristen says, echoing my thought. “She knows Mom won’t be back until Friday.”

  I pull into the garage, wondering at what point on our way up the drive Kristen noticed Diane. Did she see her walking away from the front door—and Jalal closing it behind her?

  Kristen bolts from the car and heads back out toward Diane. “Mom’s still in Houston,” she says.

  I don’t listen any further. I’m trying to figure out what to say to Jalal.

  A minute later, Kristen comes back into the garage and helps me get the kids in the house. “You want me to take them upstairs with me to have a snack or something?”

  I search her eyes. Is this an innocent question or does she know Diane was in our house—alone with Jalal? “Sure. Thanks.”

  She takes Mia Grace from me and says, “Diane said she just wanted to talk to Uncle J about doing another lecture. In case you wondered.”

  In case I want to see if Jalal’s story matches Diane’s, she means. Unfortunately, Kristen is no fool when it comes to deception. “I’ll let you know when to bring the kids down,” I tell her. She takes them up her back steps and I enter our kitchen. As if they called out to me, my eyes go directly to the two empty wine glasses on the counter. My hand shakes as I pick them up and search for Diane’s vamp red lipstick print. It’s not there, and when I sniff the scent of the shiraz we finished off last night, I concede that these glasses are not evidence.

  I’ve just set down the glasses when Jalal enters from the hall. With a glance, his smile fades. “Where are the kids?”

  “Having a snack with Kristen.”

  “I missed you,” he says and kisses me.

  “Well, at least you had company to distract you.”

  “Diane was here for about ten minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “She wants me to speak to another of her classes.”

  “Are you going to?”