I jerk free. “You know I can’t do that.”
We stand in silence, miles between us, as though he’s already left. He sighs. “I will bring them back tomorrow evening.”
The kids are excited to “go for a ride” with Jalal, of course, so I force myself to smile and kiss them goodbye, but I can’t stand to watch them drive away.
After I’m cried out, I sit on the couch with Brandon, watching, but not seeing, the football game on TV. At halftime, he makes a pizza and beer run. I choke down one slice. “Do you hate Becky?” I ask him.
“I used to,” he takes a swig, “but talking to Dad made me understand her more.” He mutes the TV. “You did a great job taking care of all of us. I know you wanted to help her, but she couldn’t help herself. What she did in the end wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even her fault. You know that, right?”
I nod. He finishes off his beer and goes to the kitchen for another. Before he sits again, he looks down at me and says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
When he reaches toward the pizza box between us, I grab his hand. “I’m glad you weren’t there.” I tell him. “I’m glad you had someone taking care of you.”
Brandon keeps me busy the next day. We have breakfast at Jennie’s, and then he asks me to show him the town, which doesn’t take long, so we go back to the restaurant. He talks and jokes with the customers, just like Jennie does. Pain is something else they have in common. His limp is more pronounced today. I’ll get Jalal to pay for him to see a specialist too.
When the light outside grows a deeper gold, I start checking my phone every ten minutes, even though I always hear the ring and text tones. Even though I suspect Jalal will just show up again. “We should go,” I tell Brandon at four o’clock.
By six, I’m pacing the living room. At seven Jalal texts, Sorry. Leaving now. Another text, twenty minutes later, says, Will be there by eight. Now the clock reads 8:22, and I’m furious. Brandon, wisely, keeps his mouth shut and watches TV.
I’m out the door two seconds after Jalal slows to turn in the driveway. I’d like to cuss him up one side and down the other, but I won’t let the kids witness that. He opens the back door of his car and when he straightens up he has Mia Grace, sound asleep, on his shoulder. I take her from him, and he opens the door on the other side. Adam’s dead to the world too. They won’t witness anything. We carry them into their room and slip off their coats and shoes. They’re already dressed in pajamas. He did this to me deliberately.
I kiss them, turn out the light, and close the door. Jalal is standing in the hall, right outside their room. “Thanks a lot,” I say. “I didn’t even get to say goodnight to them.”
“How does that feel?”
“You son of a …” He grabs my wrist before I can slap him. Behind him, Brandon slips out the front door. Jalal lets go of me. I’m on him in a flash. I grab a handful of his curls and pull his head down. I lock my mouth on his. I’m suffocating and he’s pure oxygen. He picks me up and carries me to our bed. I am blind, deaf, and dumb with desire.
Afterward, before I’ve even caught my breath, I’m on my feet looking for my clothes. “Get dressed,” I tell Jalal.
“What’s the rush?” he asks. “I think Brandon will be out for a while.”
“I don’t care when he comes back; you’re leaving now.”
“What?” He sits up, but makes no move to get out of my bed.
“Go.”
“But we just—”
“That was a mistake, Jalal. It was lust. It changes nothing.” I feel like I’m going to be sick and step into the bathroom. I take a few deep breaths and splash cold water on my face. When I come out, Jalal is tying his shoes. I don’t speak and he doesn’t look at me.
He stands and walks to the door, but then stops with his hand on the knob. “You are driving everyone who cares about you insane.”
I sink to the floor and watch him walk away, down the hall and out the door. I’m still there when Brandon returns.
Brandon explains, over breakfast, why Jalal was late. Kristen told him her grandparents are at the house in Coelho and Adam didn’t want to leave Korush. “The reinforcements have arrived,” I say.
“What?”
“Nothing. Jalal could have told me that. I’m not a heartless b-i-t-c-h.” Brandon says nothing. I have to give it to him; the boy knows when to back off. I guess he learned that the way I did: trying to avoid Becky’s wrath. “Eat your eggs, Adam. Where did you go last night?” I ask Brandon.
“Back to the restaurant. Why didn’t you tell me you’re co-owner?” I shrug. “I think with a little updating,” he says, “and a little advertising, you could pack that place and turn a fair profit.”
“It gets packed … during tourist season.”
“And then you lose money the rest of the year? That makes no sense. You need to better forecast.”
“Well, listen to you.” Mia Grace drinks the last of her milk and drops the cup on the floor.
“I took a few business classes.”
“Jalal’s going to teach those next year.”
“Yeah, he told me.”
Adam screams. Mia Grace is biting his hand.
“Stop that.” I pry her loose. “No biting, Mia Grace.” She’s reaching for his plate, her hand pumping furiously. “Adam, why did she bite you?”
He says nothing.
“Adam.”
He hangs his head. “I ate my peaches.”
“So you took some of hers?”
He nods.
“Apologize and give them back.”
“Sorry, Mee-Grays.” He lays three little cubes on her plate.
Her hand keeps pumping.
“Is that all you took?”
He adds the rest to her pile. She sits back and puts one in her mouth.
“I would have given you more peaches if you’d asked, Adam. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.” Brandon gives me a look, but I ignore him. I heard myself. I know part of this mess is mine. I convinced myself Jalal knew what was going on in my mind instead of telling him. Who knew you could learn so much from your kids?
Brandon starts clearing the table while I turn on the TV for the kids. This is routine. We need to keep things as normal as we can for them, but we have to make some new rules. Jalal can’t surprise us anymore. And I don’t want to be alone with him again. I can’t be. I won’t be.
I step out on the porch and listen for the surf. Breathe in. Breathe out. I’m no less confused than when I got here.
We finish two days in a row without too much drama. The hardest part is watching Mia Grace as I hold the phone to her ear when Jalal calls to talk to her and Adam. Her little hand signals her want the whole time she listens to his voice. She’s too little to understand what’s going on, but she knows she’s unhappy. Adam is sullen with me at times. He begged Brandon to take him home yesterday. By some instinct, he knew not to ask me. I’m the villain keeping him from his Baba Daddy and his Old Baba. I’m the one driving everyone insane.
We’re all about to go out the door for a walk before lunch when my phone rings. It’s Jennie. “Could you come here for a minute?” she asks.
“To the restaurant?”
“No, the house.”
“You’re in that much pain?”
“No. Could you come, please?” She ends the call before I can ask why.
“Change of plans, Brandon, I have to go to Jennie’s house. Do you want to go too?”
“Uh … no, I’ll wait here. I could keep the kids for you.”
“Well, I don’t know when I’ll be back because I don’t know what’s up, so I’d better take them with me.”
“I’ll see you when you get back, then.”
I drop my wallet in the tote, add a couple diapers, and snatch my keys from the breakfast bar. “Okay, kiddos, let’s go see Granny.”
Adam gets through the door first and screams, “Old Baba.”
Korush boosts Adam onto his lap. I
stand in the doorway, with Mia Grace in my arms, questioning Jennie with my eyes. Nothing in the gaze she returns apologizes for leading me into this trap. I close the door and take a seat on the couch. “Hello, Korush.”
“This was my idea,” he says. “Jalal did not send me here.”
Adam brightens and says, “Baba Daddy here?”
“No, little one,” Korush says.
Adam’s disappointment is a hand crushing my heart. Mia Grace squirms to get down, and I set her on her feet. She toddles over to Korush and tries to pull herself up.
“No, Mee-Grays,” Adam says, pushing her hand away.
She plops down on her butt, and Jennie and I rise even before her wail pierces the air. I pick up the tote and sling it on my shoulder. “I don’t have the patience for this today,” I say and reach toward Mia Grace, but Jennie steps forward and pulls me back.
“Sit,” she says.
But I don’t.
Eduardo comes out of the kitchen. “Adam, come and see if we have any ice cream.”
“I be back, Old Baba.” As soon as Adam slides off Korush’s lap, Mia Grace stops crying and pulls on his pants leg. He lifts her up and she wraps an arm tight around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder. She misses Jalal so much.
I squeeze my eyes shut. This is too hard. I sink back down on the couch. Korush says my name in a stronger version of Jalal’s accent, and that’s all it takes for great gulping sobs to shake me so deeply I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them to hold myself together. Jennie sits beside me and presses tissues into my hand. I don’t know how much time passes before I hear Korush say my name again. I’m sick with crying, but I can’t stop.
“This is not good for anyone,” he says. “You cannot allow this to destroy your family. Jalal has told me everything, and I do not condone his moment of weakness, but that is all it was, Renee. One moment. Do you believe that?”
I shrug.
“Either you do or you do not.”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“Please explain. You are a smart woman, and I know you love my son, so there is more to this. Is that so?”
I can’t let the kids see me this upset. I force myself to take a deep breath and dry my eyes and nose. I look at Korush but only for an instant because, at the sight of my baby girl, tears threaten again. “I feel so angry.”
“With Jalal?”
“I don’t know.” That’s a lie. I shake my head. “No, I don’t think I’m angry at Jalal. I’m just angry.”
“Go home to him. You cannot solve your problems by running from them.”
I’m so tired. I just want everything back the way it was a year ago. When I nod, Jennie breaks her silence. “It’s all going to work out, honey.” She pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. “I love you.”
“I love you too. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
She waves it away. “That’s what mothers are for.”
“Come,” Korush says, getting to his feet. “We will get your things.”
“Do you want to follow me?”
Korush looks from me to Eduardo who’s just come back into the room with Adam.
“I picked him up on my bike,” Eduardo says.
“What?” I say to Korush. “You rode here on a motorcycle?”
He glances at Eduardo again and then smiles and says, “It was a blast.”
Laughter bubbles up at the mental picture of Korush on the back of Eduardo’s trike. I think maybe I’m hysterical, but I don’t care. Suddenly, I believe what Jennie said. Things will work out.
Twenty-Six
Half-listening to Adam telling Korush about Diego and hermit crabs, I pack the kids’ things first and set their bags in the hall. I stuff my clothes back in my suitcase and step into my bathroom. When I come out, the sounds from the living room are wrong. I stop to listen. There are too many voices now. What the hell? Jalal is here.
I toss my toiletries bag on the bed and look down the hall. The kids’ bags are gone. In six quick strides, I have a full view of the living room. Not only is Jalal here, but he brought Steve with him. Now, I’m as scared as I am angry. I want to run back to the bedroom and lock the door, but they have my children. Korush and Brandon stand up. Jalal scoops up Adam and Mia Grace and walks toward me. “Kiss Mama goodbye,” he says.
I try to take them from him, but he holds tight. As Adam kisses one cheek and Mia Grace the other, I glare at Jalal. Then I kiss my babies and Jalal turns them away from me. He hands Mia Grace to Brandon. He whispers something to Adam and then sets him on his feet. Korush takes Adam’s hand. Just before they all go out the door, Adam turns and waves to me. “See you later, Mama.”
I wait until they’re off the porch and then I fly at Jalal, screaming. “I hate you. I hate you, you fucking son of a bitch.” He lets me beat on him until my arms tire, and then he pulls me down beside him on the couch. I shove him away with the last of my strength. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“What am I doing, Renee?”
“Taking my kids from me.”
He slips off the couch and kneels in front of me. “Oh, sweet love, I would never do that.” He brushes the hair out of my eyes and then takes my face in his hands. “You agreed with Baba to come home. Remember? Brandon drove them over to Jennie’s for a little while, and later we will all go back to Coelho. Understand?”
Everything’s working out. I nod, and he kisses my forehead.
“Why is he here?” I say, glancing at Steve.
Jalal stands. “Because we are not leaving here until you talk to him.”
I glare at Jalal. He smiles. I turn toward Steve and sneer. “Hi, Dad. How’s life treating you?”
Jalal sighs. “Well, smartass, that is a beginning.” He grabs the book lying on his jacket. “I will be in the bedroom, reading.”
I can’t believe Jalal’s doing this to me. Steve and I sit in silence. I wish it was warm enough to have the windows open so I could hear the surf. “I need a drink,” I say and stand.
“I hope not.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot.” I sit back down.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I can handle being with people having a drink or two. I just hope you don’t need to drink.”
“I don’t,” I tell him. “I don’t have that problem. I have plenty of other ones, apparently.”
“You don’t think you do?”
“Oh yeah, I have problems. I’m just not sure we all agree on what they are.” To face him, I draw my knees up and turn sideways on the end of the couch.
“What do you believe is your biggest one?”
I hold up my fingers and tick them off. “Anger, self-hate, mistrust … no, wait. My biggest problem is fear of rejection, dear father of mine.”
“No doubt that’s the cause of the others you listed.”
“Oh great. You get absolution if you just admit you rejected me, is that it?”
“I accept that’s how it felt to you.”
I huff a laugh. “Here we go. You never rejected me, I just felt rejected. Do me a favor, Steve, and cut the psychobabble.” Fuck this. I’m getting a glass of wine. I swing my legs off the couch and head for the kitchen. “Do you want a Coke or something?”
“That would be fine. Thanks.”
A few minutes later, I hand Steve the soda and resume my stance on the couch. Then I think about Jalal in the bedroom. “Crap.” I go back to the kitchen, pour a glass of pinot noir, and take it to him. He looks surprised and thanks me. Steve smiles at me when I come back to the living room. I ignore him. After we each take a couple of sips, he speaks.
“I’m not trying to diminish my responsibility for hurting you, Renee. I’m just saying that I didn’t consciously reject you.”
“Whatever.” I take a sip of wine. “You did it twice.”
Steve sits forward and rests his forearms on his knees. Looking as if he’s about to speak to the soda can clutched in his right hand, he clears his throat. “When you came to
live with me in Sacramento, I was selfish and immature. I was scared too. You looked so much like your mom, it just brought up all those bad feelings … bad times. In my mind, I got those bad feelings, all mixed up with my feelings for you. I’d already lost my sobriety twice, and the stress … I was afraid I wouldn’t recover a third time.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Hell, I was barely responsible for myself. How could I be responsible for you? That’s where my thinking was.” He grows silent, seemingly lost in a memory.
I set my glass on the floor beside the couch and wait for Steve to resume.
Finally, he sits up, finishes the rest of his Coke in one gulp, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks at me. “You scared the hell out of me. You were so angry, and I didn’t take the time to understand why because I was wrapped up in my own drama. I did care, Renee. I always cared. After you left, I hated myself for not trying harder to stop you going back to Indianapolis. You were sixteen, just a kid, and I signed away my rights.” He shakes his head. “I called you at your mom’s, but she kept saying you didn’t want to talk to me.”
“You called Becky?”
“Several times. I knew you shouldn’t have gone back there. I worried about you.”
“She never told me you called.”
“Oh.” He leans forward again. “But then, when I sent you that letter and you didn’t answer—”
“You wrote to me?”
He glances up. “You didn’t get it?” When I shake my head, he grits his teeth and sighs forcibly. “I screwed up in so many ways. And your mother—because she hated me—didn’t tell you I called, didn’t give you the letter. She didn’t tell you when the hospital called about Brandon either, did she? Like she never told me I was Brandon’s father. The woman hoarded secrets like gold.”
“Yeah well, what about all those years after you left us? I never saw any letters, or birthday cards, or anything from you then. Did she hide those too?”
“Aw, Renee …” For a moment, he stares at the empty can still in his hand and then sets it on the floor. He sits back in his chair and faces me. “When I left—when I ran away—it was because I was strung out. For a couple of years, I lived on the streets—or in jail. I got clean the first time in prison, but-”
An Illusion of Trust (Sequel to The Brevity of Roses) Page 27