An Illusion of Trust (Sequel to The Brevity of Roses) (35 page)

"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?

B
randon'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."

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.