The Brevity of Roses (35 page)

Without a word, she dragged the hose to the side of the house, rolled it up, and put the gardening tools away. Standing behind his house, she dialed Jennie’s number and spoke softly. “Jennie? I’m here with Jalal. He’s a little shaky. Do you think you can manage without me today?”

“You bet I can, even if I have to put these two old coots to work. It’d give me a laugh to see them prancing around in aprons. You just take care of that man, okay?”

By the time Renee got back around front, Jalal had moved to the steps. His eyes were red, but dry. She sat down beside him. “I think we should have grilled lamb for dinner.”

He frowned. “I thought
you
were going to cook for
me
tonight?”

“I am. What? You think lamb is too complicated for me?”

His eyes narrowed. “How do you prepare it?”

“I cut the meat in cubes, marinate, and then broil. And I serve a side of browned-butter orzo and a mixed greens salad.”

“Are you sure you can handle that?”

“Geez, you’re full of yourself, you know? I’ve cooked this meal many times. I knew this Greek guy once, he taught me how.”

“A Greek, huh?”

“I was twelve … and he was gay.”

“I see. Then, according to your stereotype, he must have been quite handsome.” He gazed at her seriously for a second before his grin broke through.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, “he was.” She grabbed a handful of his curls, pulled his mouth to hers, and kissed him. “But not as handsome as you.” She shoved him away and stood. “Now, I’m going home to change into dry clothes and do the shopping. You just relax and get ready for a meal fit for a king … which makes it way too good for a half-assed poet.” She ran for her car, before he could retaliate.

When she returned to his house, Jalal was slicing strawberries and the kitchen smelled of warm vanilla. Renee set the grocery bags on the counter. “What are you doing? I told you to relax.”

“I enjoy cooking.” He handed her a berry. “I am making dessert for tonight.”

“What are you making?”

“Custard with fresh strawberries drizzled in dark chocolate.”

“Baked or stirred custard?”

He looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Baked custard … in a shortbread crust.”

“A tart, then.”

He smiled. “A tart, yes.”

She started unpacking the food. “I didn’t know if you’d have the right red wine for the marinade, so I bought one, but I figured you were good for the herbs and oil. And you have garlic, right? Do you have a cutting board you use specifically for meat?” He didn’t answer. She looked up to find him leaning back against the counter, watching her. “Why are you staring at me like you’re amazed or something? If you’re done with those berries, mince some garlic for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes before the oven timer sounded. “Jennie did not need you to work today?” he asked as he opened the oven door.

“She gave me the day off. Are you finished with that garlic?”

He set the tart on a rack to cool, then carried his cutting board to the table where she worked. Renee had mixed herbs into a bowl and was adding olive oil. He scraped the garlic into it and watched as she added wine.

“Whoa,” he said, “are you sure about using that much?”

She stopped pouring and stared at him until he raised his hands in surrender and retreated. In silence, he continued his observation. After she cubed the lamb and coated it with the marinade, they cleaned up the kitchen. They drank the rest of the wine from the bottle as they worked. Finally, Jalal toweled off his hands and refrigerated the tart. “Now what?”

“Well … Mr. Hunk, what say we go wreck the bed?”

Jalal laughed. “What say,
indeed
.”

After dinner, they decided to go for a walk on the beach. Jalal stopped short as soon as they stepped out the front door. “What is that?”

“Oh, I forgot. I bought you a new plant. The guy at the nursery said it grows well here. It smells good too.”

“What is it called?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of vine. It has a label on it. He said it needs a trellis.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her, then turned his attention to the plant. “I wish you had told me earlier. I could have planted it this afternoon.”

“Thanks a lot.” She stepped back. “Am I
that
bad in bed?”

He looked alarmed. “You are excellent in bed. I meant I could have planted it after.”

“Yeah, right.” She gave him a hard push and stomped down the steps. Halfway down the walk, she stopped and turned. Then, she smiled.

He shook his head. “You have an odd sense of humor, Renee.”

“Get used to it.”

Jalal took her hand, when they reached the beach. Why should such a simple gesture choke her up?

“That really was a good meal,” he said.

“Quit saying that like you’re astonished.”

He smiled and raised her hand to kiss it. “You impressed me,” he said.

They walked on in silence. On this beach, her previous life of chaotic noise seemed a distant memory. The surf, with its constant admonition to
shush
, lulled her into a state of stillness she had never known. At times, like now, she almost felt she could surrender, give up the burden of control, and let Jalal lead her, but that control was everything. It was all she’d ever had. The thought of stepping off that cliff, feeling nothing but air beneath her, so frightened her it made her queasy. Jalal squeezed her hand. What was he thinking right now? He was so different from her, so vulnerable. How had he survived so long in this world?

“Do you think I am weak?” he asked.

Startled that he seemed to have read her mind, Renee ignored what he was really asking and squeezed his bicep. “You seem pretty strong to me.” She smiled. He didn’t.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “I have given a lot of thought to how you handled your mother’s death. And you were only a child then.”

She’d never been a child, but he couldn’t understand that. “I had no choice, Jalal.”

“Yes, you did. I did.”

“It wasn’t the same for me. I lived every day knowing my mother could die from an overdose, or be beaten to death by one of her
dates
, or get shot in a bad drug deal. Her death didn’t really come as a shock.”

He said nothing.

“We’re just different types, Jalal. You’re a poet; I’m a smartass.”

Jalal stopped and pulled her into his arms. “The sun is setting,” he said. She turned in his arms and they stood that way until the sun nearly reached the horizon. “The temperature will drop quickly now. We should head back.” They walked for a minute before he spoke again. “Please quit your job at the bar.”

“I have bills to pay.”

“Let me pay them.”

“You’d better be joking.”

“I could buy that bar.”

She stopped short. “And what,
fire
me?”

“Of course not. I would … renovate it.”

“Renovate?”

“Come on, Renee, I hate the way those men look at you.”

“I don’t look back.” She knew what was coming when his eyes slid away from hers.

“It is not decent for you to work there,” he said.

She jerked her hand from his. “Not decent for me, or not decent for you?”

“You are reading more into this than—”

“No, I’m not! I’ve waited bars since the day I turned twenty-one, and I’m not ashamed of it. You’re a fucking snob.” She stomped off down the beach and got about twenty yards ahead of him before he jogged up behind her.

“I do not want to fight,” he said.

Renee stopped again and faced him. “Take me as I am, or leave me alone. Don’t try to change me.”

“Understood,” he said. “I am sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, determined not to let him off that easy, but then he flashed a smile at her. “Okay,” she said. “I forgive you, but don’t think that smile is going to work every time.” She started toward the steps, and he followed.

“Your birthday is next month,” he said.

“So?”

“You need a passport.”

“For what?”

“I want to take you somewhere as your gift.”

She stopped halfway up the stairs and turned around. “Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

“In the world?”

He laughed. “I think it would have to be, yes.”

“Wow.” Dozens of images from the travel books she’d read flashed through her mind. How would she ever decide? She turned and started up the steps. Wait. She should refuse. No matter how much money he had, that was too expensive a gift. But
damn.
He held the front door open for her and as she passed him, she shook her head. “Wow.”

“So, where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I have no idea. You pick.”

“This is
your
gift. Take some time to think about it. You do need to get started on that passport though.”

“What’s your favorite place to visit?”

“Renee …”

“No, really, I just want to know.” She curled up on one end of the couch. “You’ve been everywhere. So tell me, where do you love to go most?”

Though he faced her with his eyes in her direction, they weren’t focused. She felt him slipping away. “Hey,” she said and jumped up, “let’s have a beer.” She tried to pull him toward the kitchen, but he resisted.

“Paris,” he said.

She loosened her grip on his hand. “Did you and Meredith go there?’

“Yes. Many times.”

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Then I won’t choose Paris.”

He kissed the top of her head, then whispered into her hair, “I will take you there someday.”

“Yes. You will.” She started to pull away, but he held her close. “I’d better get home now.”

“Please, stay.”

“Jalal …”

“It makes no sense for you to leave every night.”

“I don’t leave
every
night. I told you I’m not living with you.”

He sighed. “Just talk to me for a while, then.”

She stayed in his arms, but neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Their relationship had to be a give and take. They could be together—a couple—but only as equals. “It’s your turn to come to my place.” She felt him tense, but then he nodded.

Outside, he steered her toward his car, but she corrected him. “I want to take my car.”

“I would rather drive mine.”

“Or you don’t have to drive at all.”

He stood beside his car. In the glare of the security light, she could see his jaw working. He blew out a breath, pocketed his keys, and walked toward her with his hand out.

“All right. We will take your car,” he said, “but I am driving.”

For once, she managed to keep her mouth shut and handed over her keys.

They said little during the few minutes it took to drive to her apartment. Inside, they headed straight for the bedroom. Renee grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator as she passed, took a drink, then handed the bottle to him. It wasn’t until she flipped the light switch, that she remembered she’d never cleaned up from her aborted attempt to pack and leave. At least her bed was made. “Sorry about the mess.” When Jalal made no reply, she turned to find him staring at her overflowing suitcase on the floor. He looked stunned.

“You were going to leave.”

“No,” she said. He lifted his gaze, his eyes accusing her, and she began to stammer. “I … okay, for a minute, yes … I panicked. But then Azadeh called—”

“Or you would have left me.”

“No. Jalal—”

“Do not lie to me! My god.” He raked his hair off his face. “You could bring me to my knees and then abandon me? You could actually do that!” He turned and left her room before she could protest.

She ran after him. “Jalal, it wasn’t like that. I—”

He had the door open, about to step into the night, but stopped and looked back. “Yes,” he said. “It was.” Then, he left her.

Eighteen

RENEE CRIED MOST OF THE NIGHT. In between waves of despair, her anger flared. She silently raged against Jalal, Meredith, Jennie, this stupid town, and then the whole state of California. Sometime around three o’clock, she fell asleep, but she woke again at seven and got up. She started hanging up her clothes, as if doing so could turn back time and erase the damage her weakness had caused. When she was done, she sank to the floor in front of the closet. For the first time in her life, she had no clue what to do next.

It was after nine, when Renee woke on the floor so cold from the inside out even a long hot shower failed to warm her. She started the coffee and while it brewed, sat at the table staring toward the front door. Jalal had walked out on her. She still couldn’t believe that. When the coffee was ready, she carried her mug to the windows overlooking the street. Jalal had driven home. “Well, I guess that’s step one,” she said to no one, “walk over there to get my car.” Maybe she would be lucky. He would be in the house and her keys would be in the ignition. She wouldn’t have to face him.

What the hell
. That wasn’t like her. Where had all her toughness gone? Jalal had walked out on her. Why couldn’t she just say fuck him and get out of this town? She didn’t owe anyone here a damned thing. Tears flooded her eyes again and she swiped them away. “This is so stupid.” She jerked on her shoes and set off toward the beach.

As Renee neared Jalal’s house, she could see him working in the garden, planting the vine. The sight made her want to cry again. She stopped and closed her eyes until the feeling passed. Why was she kidding herself? She didn’t want to walk away from Jalal. She couldn’t. Damn him. He owed her as many chances as she’d given him.

If he heard her enter his gate, he didn’t show it, nor did he seem to notice when she walked up to him. “It might be a mistake to plant something I gave you.”

Jalal stood and turned toward her as he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Why is that?”

“If it behaves anything like me, it might screw up your garden.” She smiled. He didn’t.

“You cannot joke your way out of this, Renee. Not this time.”

“I told you I panicked.”

“But your bags were still half-packed.”