Only a few late breakfast customers linger. Jennie pulls a highchair up to the end of the counter and buckles in Mia Grace while I hoist Adam up on a stool.
Eduardo pops his head out the pick-up window, seems to avoid looking at my hair, and says, “Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?”
“One of each,” I tell him.
Jennie sets a cup of coffee in front of me and sits on a stool she’s started using behind the counter.
“You haven’t canceled your appointment with that surgeon have you?” I ask her.
“No, I haven’t. I’m sick of being laid up.”
Jennie talks to the kids until Eduardo brings out the ice cream. She takes the vanilla from him and starts feeding Mia Grace. Adam can’t decide between the other two flavors, so Eduardo sets them both in front of him and then looks at me as though he’s daring me to protest. Evidently, Jalal’s phone call painted me heartless.
When Eduardo goes back to the kitchen I appeal to Jennie. “I don’t know what Jalal told you, but—” Jennie’s glare cuts me off.
“We’ll talk this evening,” she says.
After the kids are asleep, she means. I bristle at the thought they’re blaming me for coming here. Then I remember they’re caught in the middle. This situation is a mess for everyone connected to us.
Jennie hands me Mia Grace’s spoon and goes to ring up a customer. I scoop another bite, but Mia Grace turns her face away. Unlike Adam, she didn’t inherit her father’s sweet tooth. But she has his eyes. And his mouth. And his need to comfort and be comforted by touch. Now, as if she also inherited his ability to know what I’m thinking, she says, “Me,” and pulls at my shirt. Though she was almost weaned, she demands to be nursed more each day.
We have regressed. All of us.
Putting the kids to bed is not as traumatic as I dreaded. They’re tired from a long walk after dinner and drowsy from a warm bath. Adam asks if Mia Grace can sleep with him, so I tuck her in between him and the wall. They fall asleep before I finish reading one book.
For several minutes, I stand in the doorway, watching them sleep. Two little innocents. God, the potential parents have to damage their children. Jalal asked, “How did we come to this?” I never wanted it to be this way. I’d hoped he would be the one man who wouldn’t disappoint me.
The front door opens; it’s Jennie. I hit the wall switch, leaving the kids’ room in a nightlight glow, and close their door. She’s opening the fridge when I enter the kitchen. “I just can’t develop a taste for that wine you drink,” she says. “Damn. No plain old beer?”
“Should be.” I reach past her and open one of the crisper drawers. “There you go.”
“What, Jalal hides it so no one will think he drinks the domestic stuff?”
“I hid it there, when Kristen and Brittany were here. Get me one too.” I grab a couple of glasses from the cupboard. “Are we sitting in here or the living room?”
She takes a chair at the table. “Right here, until my back screams.”
I sit across from her and we fill our glasses.
“Eduardo said to tell you he wanted to come with me,” she says, “but a group of young people filled up the place fifteen minutes ago and ordered just about everything on the menu. He didn’t feel he could leave Victor to handle the cooking alone.”
“Tell him I understand. That’s good for business, though.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of weird, but the young crowd has discovered us lately. Maybe old-fashioned family restaurants are the latest trend. I might have to go back to night owl hours.”
“It was nice back then,” I say. “The darkness outside made the restaurant feel like a bright sanctuary, which I guess it was, considering who your night owls were.”
She nods. “We were a sad, lonely bunch.” We’re both lost in our memories for a moment, and then Jennie adds, “Did I tell you Donald left me $15,000? He said in his will the money was to pay his tab.” Her laugh turns to all out bawling a second later. She’s not really crying about Don’s death, though.
I wait in silence until she pulls a tissue from her pocket and blows her nose. “What did Jalal tell you?” I ask.
“Not much,” she says. “Only that you were on your way here with the kids because he did something to hurt you. Does that something involve Diane?” I nod. “And is that why you butchered your hair?” I nod again. “Let it grow out.” I nod a third time. She sighs, signaling she’s ready to get serious. “I know it’s hard for you to believe right now, hon, but there are worse things a man can do to you than cheat, so—”
“He didn’t.” Jennie’s eyes narrow and she motions for me to elaborate. “She told me they slept together—right in this house—but they didn’t. Jalal confronted her, in front of me, and she admitted that she lied.”
Jennie clears her misconception with a brisk head shake. “Then why are you here?”
“Because I can’t trust him, now.”
She stares at me.
“Jalal was leading up to cheating,” I explain. “And he would have if I hadn’t stopped it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” I’ve only taken a few sips of my beer, but I chug the rest. “You want me to just lie down and take it? You want me to be like you?”
Jennie moves so quickly, I feel the sting before I realize she’s slapped my cheek. She drops back in her chair and covers her face. She’s crying again. I get up and kneel beside her, clinging to her arm. “I’m sorry, Jennie. That was cruel. Please don’t hate me.”
She pries my hands from her arm and pulls my head to her chest, patting my back with her free hand. We’re both crying now, and she rocks me until she can speak. “I could never hate you, little girl.” She kisses the top of my head and then pushes me away so she can look at me. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to shake some sense into you sometimes.” We both smile through our tears. “Now sit back down and let’s talk. First of all,” she blows her nose, “you can’t divorce him, so if that’s what you have on your mind, just forget it.”
“Jennie, you—”
“Hush. I know you think you can’t forgive him and you’ll never trust him again, but you never trusted him to begin with.”
“Of course I—”
“Will you please shut your mouth and listen?” She waits for an answer, so I nod, and she continues. “Trust was ripped away from you when you were a little bitty thing and you’ve never gotten it back. You want it. You say you have it. But you can’t even let yourself trust that those little angels in that bedroom love you.” I open my mouth and she points her finger at me and says, “Don’t you deny it. You’re always on the watch for signs they love Jalal more than they love you. We all know that and we understand why. So maybe Jalal did you a favor.”
“A what?”
“You had only an illusion of trust, like the fog out there. And Jalal’s screwing up was like the sun, burning that fog away. So okay, now you can see clearly. We’re down to the nitty gritty here. It’s time to accept marriage for what it really is—just two imperfect human beings trying to find a little happiness together. Weigh the pros and cons, and if the pros in your marriage don’t outweigh the cons, I’ll parade down Main Street stark naked.”
I almost smile at that.
She reaches across the table for my hand. “Little girl, you’re not healed yet, but you’ve come a long way since we first met, and Jalal’s the main reason. I’m not denying he’s got faults of his own. I see them better than you, maybe. But I believe in my heart you two are meant to be together. You have to do whatever it takes to work this out.”
She lets go of my hand and scoots her chair back. “Well, I’m old and I’m tired and I’m in pain, so I’m going home.” We stand and walk into the living room. “You’re probably a little mad at me,” she says as she puts on her coat, “but think about what I said and come see me tomorrow.”
Even though I’m more than a little mad, I hug her
. “I love you.”
“And you still love him too.” She gives my hair a tug and shakes her head. “Good lord, this must have nearly killed him.”
Adam and Mia Grace wake me at dawn. I try to persuade them to go back to sleep. No such luck. Bleary-eyed, I move them to my bed and scrabble on the nightstand for the TV remote but find only an empty wine bottle mocking me. What a mistake to bring that to bed with me last night. Adam finds the remote under the covers and hands it to me. As the familiar sounds of Clifford fill the room, I drift.
“Stinky-poo,” Adam says, pushing my eyelids up. “Mee-Grays stinky, Mama.” I look at the TV. The Big Red Dog is no longer on the screen, but a glance at the clock tells me I was out only a few minutes. Like it or not, I’m solely responsible for the kids, so I force myself out of bed.
We’re all cleaned up and dressed and just sitting down for breakfast when someone knocks on the door. My heart races. It’s Jalal, come to take the kids back. Stupid. He wouldn’t knock. When I step into the living room, I get a glimpse of two hazy figures visible through the frosted glass door, but Kristen and Brandon are the last people I expect to see when it opens.
“Hey, sis.” Brandon gawks at my hair.
“What are you two doing here?”
“We came to visit you,” he says, “but if we’re not welcome …”
“Sorry.” I turn and head back to the kitchen. “We’re having breakfast. You want some?”
“Just coffee,” Brandon says as he takes a seat at the table. “Good morning, Mr. Adam. Good morning, Miss Mia.” They smile at him.
I set Brandon’s cup on the table. “Kristen?”
She shakes her head and remains standing by the breakfast bar.
Oh crap. “I’m sorry, Kristen. I forgot I was supposed to call you last night.”
She nods as if she forgives me, but her eyes shimmer.
“Brandon, will you …” I point to the kids.
“Absolutely.”
I pull Kristen into the living room, out of sight of the kitchen, and hug her.
“You and Uncle J can’t split up,” she blubbers into my ear.
“Don’t think about that. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.”
After a moment, she pulls away, sniffs and wipes her cheeks. “We have to talk before I leave, okay? It’s important.”
“Okay.” I don’t know what’s on her mind, but surely she knows I’m not going to talk to her about Jalal and Diane.
“I’ll have a Coke,” she says.
Brandon and Kristen take the kids out for a walk while I clean up after breakfast. I drank wine and watched old sitcoms last night to keep me from thinking about what Jennie said, but now her words smack me to attention. If Jennie’s right that I don’t trust anyone, I guess I never trusted Jalal. Can’t lose what you never had. But you can’t have a marriage without trust, so what’s the difference?
I stop dead in the middle of the floor. Geez, my brain is slow today. Brandon is here because Jalal flew him down. He’s rounding up everyone on his side, even my brother. I don’t really have any say in this, do I? Jalal has all the money, all the support. If I have an illusion, it’s that I have an ounce of power in this relationship.
I’m in a black mood when they all come back to the house. Brandon hands Mia Grace to me and helps Adam out of his coat. Kristen sits on the floor by the toys and Adam goes to her. “How did you get roped into driving Brandon over here?” I ask her.
“I volunteered,” she says, and the flush already in her cheeks from the cold wind deepens.
I glance at Brandon who’s grinning at Kristen. Oh, man. She’s just turned seventeen. “What are your plans for the day, Brandon?”
“Whatever your plans are,” he says. “Or we can watch the kids and give you time to yourself.”
“What time are you leaving?” I ask him. He looks at Kristen.
“I promised Mom I’d be home before dark,” she says. “She doesn’t want me on the road alone at night.”
“Alone?” I turn to Brandon. “Alone?”
“I’m staying with you.” He laughs at the look I give him and says, “Did you think I came all the way down here just to see you for a couple of hours?”
“I think you came down here because Jalal told you to.”
“Asked.”
“Call it what you want.” I pick up Mia Grace and take her to her room for a diaper change. She decides to nurse, and I’m rocking her when Kristen comes in.
“Can we talk now?” she says.
“That depends on what you want to talk about. Little ears pick up more than you know.”
“Okay,” she says and sits on the floor. “Will you please listen even if you get mad?”
“You’re in love with Brandon.”
“What? No. I mean …” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about Brandon. I want to talk about you.”
“I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to talk about your uncle—”
She sighs. “I’m not talking about Uncle J. This has nothing to do with him … no, it does. I mean, it has to do with you and him but not her .”
“Okay.” Mia Grace stops sucking and I glance down. She’s asleep.
Kristen takes a deep breath. “When I was little, I was a total daddy’s girl. He called me Princess. I believed he loved me more than anyone in the world. And then, about two years before the divorce, he changed. He wasn’t home as much, and when he was, it seemed like he didn’t want me around him. He called me Kristen, no more Princess. My whole world changed. I blamed my mom and started treating her like shit. That was easier than believing my dad didn’t love me anymore, I guess. And then I started doing crazy stuff and messing around with boys and … well, you know how that turned out.”
She’s silent for a minute, picking at her nail polish. I don’t think she’s waiting for a response from me, and I’m not sure where she’s going with this. I stand and lay Mia Grace in her crib. When I sit back down, Kristen resumes.
“Anyway, I acted out and made a big mess of things because I didn’t want to face the real problem. I wouldn’t just ask my dad why he didn’t love me anymore.”
“Kristen—”
“You said you’d listen. I know my situation doesn’t compare to how bad yours was. Maybe your dad really is the mondo monster you believe him to be. But maybe not. I’d say he isn’t, from talking to Brandon.” I open my mouth, but she shuts it with a sharp glance. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe a talk with your dad won’t clear up a huge, terrible, misunderstanding, like it did for me. But maybe it will make you stop treating Uncle J like shit.”
I jump to my feet. So does she. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her.
“Yes. I do.”
My desire to slap her is so strong it shocks me into a moment’s silence. I clench my hands and take a deep breath. “Thanks for trying to help,” I say evenly, “but you’re out of line.” When I try to walk past her, she blocks me.
“Just listen for one more minute.”
I close my eyes.
“If you do nothing else, you need to see your dad so you can scream at him and get out all the anger that’s poisoning you.”
I open my eyes. With a lift of her brows, she questions whether I heard her, and then she leaves the room. I stare at the door for a moment and then close the blinds and turn on the monitor.
Did that kid just cut through all my bull and make sense?
Twenty-Five
Brandon’s sitting at the kitchen table watching me wash dishes. “She’s jailbait, you know,” I tell him.
“Like I said last night, we’re only talking.”
“I’m just warning you.”
“Received.”
“You and Jennie were quite the duo at dinner,” I say. “The customers enjoyed it.”
“She’s great. We have the same sense of humor. I like her restaurant. It sort of reminds me of the pancake shop on Green Street. Remember?”
“We
only ate there a few times—when Becky decided to feed us before she bought her booze.”
“It was nice. Remember how Hattie Mae would bring us chocolate syrup for our pancakes if we asked? I wonder if Jennie’s ever thought of that. Kids would love it.”
“Hattie Mae?”
“Yeah, she was the waitress … or maybe she owned the place. Always smiling. I can still see that big gap between her front teeth. And Big Jim, the cook. Was he her husband? Blackest skin I ever saw. What do you suppose happened to them? Maybe they’re still there. If I ever get back to Indy, I’m going to look.”
Brandon’s not always faking it. He actually has some good memories of his childhood, and he refuses to let the bad ones diminish those. Why can’t I be like him? Then I remember the difference. He has a father.
As I’m rinsing the suds down the drain, the front door opens. My whole body clenches when Mia Grace calls out, “Baba.”
Jalal picks up both kids and they wrap their arms around his neck. I give him a minute and then say, “Kids, play with Uncle Brandon. Daddy and I have to talk.”
Jalal sets the kids down and follows me to our bedroom. He leaves the door open, but I close it and turn on him. “You have no right to just show up like this.”
“I believe I do.”
“You’ll only upset them. Or don’t you care?”
“You have spent two and a half days with them. Now they need some time with me. ‘Or don’t you care?’”
“Oh no, no, no,” I say. “Don’t think you’re taking them back with you. That is not going to happen.”
“Yes. It is.”
“You can’t. Mia Grace is nursing a lot again.”
“She is only using that to comfort herself. She will be all right with me.”
“I hate you.”
He nods. “I know.”
“Please, don’t take them.” He reaches a hand toward me and I step back, angry at myself for pleading. “I am not giving you permission, Jalal. I’m going to write that down and you’re going to sign it. You’re not going to make it look like I abandoned my kids.”
Before I can move out of reach, he grabs my shoulders and looks into my eyes until I can’t stand it and turn my head. “I am not taking them away from you, Renee. I miss them. I miss you. Please, come with us.”
An Illusion of Trust (Sequel to The Brevity of Roses) Page 26