An Illusion of Trust (Sequel to The Brevity of Roses) (36 page)

"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.

H
alf-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-"

"Prison!"

"Four years."

"For what?"

He looks at his hands splayed on his knees. "First degree burglary."

"I didn't know that. I didn't even know you were an addict."

He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly. "It's worse than that. I'm the one who got your mom drinking. And then I started using so I could avoid feeling guilty about her drinking. I was killing us both. We neglected you. I couldn't face the mess I'd made, so … I ran away. I ran and left you alone with a woman I'd turned into a drunk. What kind of
father
does that?" He looks me in the eye. "You have every reason to hate me, Renee. But please don't let any of the feelings you have against me spill over on Brandon. He never gave up hope we'd find you. When he found out you'd been living right there in Sacramento and we never knew it, he broke down and cried."

"I don't hate Brandon. I love him. I'm glad he's in my life again."

"Good." He leans forward again, picks up his empty soda can, and turns it around and around. "I'm sorry I didn't grow up until I had to take responsibility for Brandon." He makes a choking sound and I realize he's trying not to cry.

Sorry, sorry, sorry. Like I'm supposed to hug him and tell him I forgive him. Hell no. "You expect me to feel sorry for you because you regret missing out on Brandon's childhood and got all weepy watching my son with his father? You expect me to forgive you just because you come here and tell me a sob story?"

Steve clears his throat. "In the first place, it was you, not Brandon, I was thinking of when I cried at your house. And I didn't come here to tell you a 'sob story.' I didn't come here for me at all. I don't expect you to forgive me for anything. I know that's what Brandon wants. He's trying to create a happy family around him because he thinks that will fill-in all the missing pieces inside himself. It doesn't work that way. He uses humor as a shield against remembering how shitty his childhood really was. He can't understand why you're so bitter."

"But he does remember good things. He tells me, and then I remember them too. And sometimes I think I …" Should I say it? I don't know if I can. Steve waits, questioning me with a look. Quickly, before I change my mind, I say, "Did you read to me?"

His eyes well up and he nods.

"Do you remember a book called
Bedtime Bunny
?" I ask.

He looks past me for a moment, then clears his throat again and recites, "When moonlight bathes our sleepy town, it's bedtime, Bunny, soft and brown. With a kiss and a cuddle in your blanket blue, never forget that I love you."

I pull my knees up tighter and rest my forehead on them. I don't want him to look at me. We sit in silence again. After a while, I say, "Tell me about the day I was born."

And he begins.

Jalal smells coffee brewing and comes out of the bedroom. "Is it all right to call my father and Brandon, now?"

"Yes," I say.

"I will tell them to bring one of Jennie's pies."

Fifteen minutes later, I'm nursing my cranky daughter to sleep in the living room while my son, sitting on his father's lap in the kitchen, struggles to stay awake. I can only hope Jennie fed them lunch. I close my eyes and listen to the voices of the four men. Two are comforting in their familiarity. I am safe with them. Two, in both their familiarity and strangeness, stir an emotional soup.

As Brandon said, I have to deal with the man who fathered me. Steve is not the 'mondo monster' I've hated all these years, but I don't think it's possible for me to ever have a relationship with him like Brandon does. I hate what he did, the same way I hate what Becky did, but I understand it a little more now. And I want to believe that, at one time, they both loved me the way Jalal and I love Adam and Mia Grace. They loved me. They didn't hate me. They didn't reject me. I am not worthless. Someday, maybe, that will become my truth and fill me up.

I carry Mia Grace to her crib and then join the men in the kitchen. Adam lost the battle and sleeps in the safety of his father's arms.

"Jennie sent you a tuna sandwich," Jalal says and nods toward the bag on the counter.

I smile. I am cared for. As I eat, I feel as though I'm emerging from a dream. Reality burns away the fog created by my fears. I tune out the business discussion they're having and study my husband. Suddenly, I remember something Shadi said the first time I met her, "you are exactly who my brother needs." She was right, but somehow I lost that confidence, and now, again, I need to believe it's true.

"Nasrin is cooking a feast," Korush says. "We should leave as soon as the children wake from their naps."

Jalal leans over and whispers, "Do you mind if you and I stay here tonight?"