The Brevity of Roses (21 page)

“I was a bartender once.” He saw her look of surprise in the mirror above the counter, but there was no evidence of it when she responded.

“How did you like it?” She reached over and pinched a bite of his cake.

“It was … interesting.”

“Hmmm,” she said and swallowed, “you mean ‘interesting’ in how many women hit on you?”

There had been a lot of that, yes. “No, interesting in how many people tell a stranger intimate details of their problems.” She nipped another bite of his cake. “Would you like a slice of your own?”

She shook her head. “There are a lot of lonely people,” she said, “and sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.”

Jennie had busied herself at the other end of the counter, but he knew she was listening because she looked up at him now. He met her eyes.

“A few years ago,” Renee told him, “I worked at a suicide prevention center answering calls on the hotline.”

Jalal turned his attention back to her. “That sounds most unpleasant.”

“Sometimes the unpleasant things are the ones you need to do most.”

Although he sensed she was not directing the comment toward him, it felt like a judgment of some sort.

“I learned a lot,” she said. “I learned that nobody ever really wants to die. They just can’t see a reason not to.”

He looked at Renee in the mirror. She sat staring into her coffee cup as though her thoughts were far away. Without glancing over, he knew Jennie eyed him again. This time he did not meet her gaze.

Jalal returned to Jennie’s two afternoons later. As he came through the door, he scanned the room for Renee. She was not in sight. Aware his intention would be too obvious if he turned around and left now, he waved hello to Don and Eduardo and took a seat at the counter.

“Well, look at you,” said Jennie as she came through the kitchen doors. “Here I thought you had to wait until full dark to emerge.”

“Ha ha. Is it strictly comedy hour, or can I get a cup of coffee?”

“No pie? I have pecan.”

“Coffee and pie, then.”

Jennie set both before him. “What brings you in so early today?”

Jalal took a bite and chewed to delay while he tried to think up a good answer. He looked up to find her smiling at him.

“Renee left about an hour ago,” she said.

He frowned. “Renee? No, I just stopped in for coffee on my way to Coelho.” His excuse sounded valid to him, but her smile spread to a grin.

“Uh-huh.” Jennie turned away, shaking her head.

He concentrated on his pie. Why was he here looking for Renee? He had lost control. This woman’s intrusion in his life rendered pointless all the effort he had spent guarding his privacy. What was he thinking?
She's twenty-three years old
. Enough. He would not allow this to continue.

Eleven

FIVE DAYS LATER, JALAL stood by his car, fishing his keys from his pocket.

“Hey, you’re back.”

His head snapped up. Renee crossed the pharmacy parking lot toward him, smiling. He stared, mute.

Her smile wavered. “You’ve been away, right? Jennie said you were on your way out of town last Friday.”

“Uh … yes.” That could be an answer to either her question or her statement, and he hoped she would not press it.

“So, did you just get home or what?”

Shit!
He tried hard to meet her gaze directly, but the best he could manage was to focus a few millimeters to the left. He cleared his throat. “I have been really busy.”

Her eyes narrowed as she considered his response. “Since you got back,” she said, not asking a question.

Jalal pushed the unlock button on his keys. Renee knew he was lying. As his mind scrambled for something to say to make her doubt what she knew, he leaned in and set his shopping bag on the passenger seat. When he straightened up, she was gone. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the top of the car. The sun-heated metal singed his skin and, for a second, he allowed it. He deserved it.

It was nearly ten when Jalal woke. Friday. Low tide at noon.
The peak time for crowds littering the beaches, despite the icy water. His run would have to wait until tonight. Just as he swung his legs out of bed, his cell rang. Before answering, he checked the caller ID; it was Azadeh. “Hey, lady,” he said.

“They’re serving Sam the divorce petition early Monday morning,” she said.

Finally, the end to a marriage that never should have begun. He hated Sam for keeping Azadeh prisoner these last several years with a threat to take the children from her if she left. Now that Ryan and Kristen were old enough to choose which parent they wanted to live with, Jalal had urged her to file for divorce. “You need to be in a safe place,” he said. “Come stay with me for a while.”

“He’ll check there first.”

She was probably right about that, but she had to leave Seattle. Sam would never give up until he found her, and with his shady connections—he would. Jalal raked a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “You would be safe at … at the house in Coelho.”

“Jalal, that’s—”

“I have given it a lot of thought,” he said. “You belong there, Aza.” He lied. The idea had only crossed his mind once or twice, but the second he made the offer, he knew it was the perfect solution. Lorena still vacuumed and dusted, but he wanted someone truly caring for the house, and Azadeh needed a place to stay.

“But the kids have another week of school here.”

“Maman would be happy to have them, you know that.”

“And so does Sam. I don’t want to put Baba and Maman in that position.”

“Take them to Shadi’s then. Sam would never dare mess with her.”

Azadeh’s laugh eased him. “You’re right. I’ll leave the kids with her and I’ll stay at your house. Will you drive over and stay with me there?”

“No,” he said.

“Jalal, it’s been—”

“No!” After a moment, he said, “Maman has a key.”

“I’ll get it,” she said. “Thanks, Jalal.”

“Just leave Seattle no later than Sunday, all right?”

“I will. And
you
be careful. Keep your eyes open.”

“No need to worry about me, Aza. Sam has nothing to gain by coming after me.” If Sam did threaten him, he would voice his suspicion as fact. Sam had a secret he would not want revealed.

“I love you,
baradar-jan
.”

“Only half as much as I love you,
khahar-jan
.”

He laid his phone down. Two birds, one stone, maybe today would be a good day.

By mid-day Monday, the rain had slacked off, but the churning sky threatened more to come. Jalal ran the public beach without fear of seeing anyone. He circled back at the mouth of the creek and was nearing the pier when he realized there was a lone figure standing on it. That it was Renee did not surprise him. What did surprise him was she had not shown up at his door, hurt and anxious because he had distanced himself from her. As if she had a right to some part of him. As if he owed her a place in his life.

When he drew closer, the wind tossed back her jacket hood revealing short black hair. The person on the pier was an Asian woman, setting up her fishing tackle. Suddenly, his legs were tree trunks, slowing him to a walk. He stopped to drink some water. With his head down, he trudged homeward. Even factoring in the wind, he felt colder than the air warranted.
I am getting old.
He had not really considered that before. His age had not mattered before. Now, he was alone. Someday he would be like Eduardo or Don, a lonely old man killing time. He would sit at the counter and grow fat eating Jennie’s pie. It seemed a dream that only a couple of years ago he had an entirely different future mapped out.

His life was like his running, north or south, it did not matter—he was going nowhere. And he was not alone. His effect on others sickened him. He had entangled the whole family net on the wreckage of his life, dragging them all down. Ziba advised anti-depressants—
however many it takes
. Shadi insisted he see her psychiatrist. Goli and Maman were sure he was just undernourished. Farhad and Navid said little, but eyed him as though he might go postal at any moment. And Baba—
oh, god
—what pain he caused Baba.

The truth was the whole family waited for Azadeh to break through to him somehow. And she tried; she never let up, but she had passed the mantle to Meredith years ago and it was too late for her to recover it. No one could help him. Suddenly aware he was following another set of footprints on the wet sand, Jalal looked up to see if there was someone else on the beach with him. With a shock, he saw he had walked halfway to the Point, long past the way up to his house. Then, for real, he saw Renee up ahead.

She sat on one of the exposed beach boulders on the foreshore, facing out to sea. As he watched, she unclipped her hair and shook it free. The gesture struck him as both fierce and tender.
The ocean is a woman.
She drew him forward. He took a step and then another until he came within a dozen yards of her. He called her name, and she turned to him. Not a word passed between them. After a moment, she gathered her hair back into a twist, climbed down, and joined him on the beach. They turned toward his house and walked a few paces.

“I didn’t know you ran this far north,” she said.

“I run in both directions.”

“Do you run every day?”

“If I can.”

“Are you inspired by it? Running, I mean. My thoughts are clearer when I walk. Especially here on the beach.”

“Yes.” He drank the last of his water.

“I googled you.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “How nice.”

“Are you working on your next collection?”

“Yes.”

“How’s it going?

“Fine.”

Renee stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “You do want to talk to me, right? Or am I just annoying you? It’s kind of hard to tell.”

For the first time, he allowed himself to look deeply into her eyes. Shadows of pain and weariness in their gray depths belied her youth. She gazed steadily back at him. He was the first to glance away. “You are very direct.”

She shrugged. “Life’s too short not to be.”

“Indeed.” They resumed walking. “You are not annoying me. I apologize, if I seemed rude. Apparently, I need a refresher course in the art of conversation. Come to my house. I will make tea and, for once, I will question you.”

“I’m amazed,” she said.

“Why is that?”

“You actually strung together more than ten words.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Has anyone ever commented on your smart mouth?”

“All the time,” she said proudly.

“You also have beautiful hair, longer than I realized.”

She gave him no response. He shot her a glance. Had his comment overstepped her boundary? He seemed always to be off-balance, out of step, with her. When they came to the beach below his house, he led the way up the stairs, but just as his eyes came level with the road, he stopped short. Without turning to look at her, he whispered, “Renee, turn around and go back home another way.”

“Why?”

“Please. Just do it.” He waited until he heard her descend, and then climbed up to the pathway and onto the road. A car blocked his driveway and his soon to be ex-brother-in-law sat waiting on his porch. They surveyed each other as Jalal crossed the pavement and came up the walk. Sam stood up. “You wasted no time,” said Jalal, climbing the steps.

“I was motivated by a little something extra
served
with my morning coffee,” said Sam. With one quick move, he forced his way between Jalal and the door.

Jalal took a step back, his eyes still locked on Sam’s. “Why would you rush—”

“Where is my wife?”

“Far away from you.”

Sam thrust his face closer to Jalal’s. “You should know by now, who you’re messing with,” he said. “Don’t be stupid, pansy boy.”

Jalal huffed a laugh without humor. “That is funny, Sam. Hilarious even, coming from a prick who likes to play with pretty, blonde boys like those in Capital Hill. Or maybe you have enough brains not to fuck other men in the town where your wife and children live. You do take a lot of
business
trips.” Sam’s face displayed his inner struggle: shock gave way to fear gave way to doubt gave way to conceit. When Sam sneered, Jalal wanted to grab him by the throat, but the thought of touching the man turned his stomach.