An Illusion of Trust (Sequel to The Brevity of Roses) (20 page)

"They're just such an odd couple," she says.

Aza's volume is much lower, her response only a murmur.

"Not just the age difference. I mean, besides those children, what could they possibly talk about?"

I'm sitting up now, barely breathing. A breeze scatters the sound, frustrating me.

"Why … you …" Aza says. "And Renee … happy, so …"

"I'm just … conversation."

For a moment, the wind swirls their words completely away, and then Aza's voice returns clear. "… quit being so picky, you'd have a man in your life."

Diane's response gets drowned by the clang of the gate latch closing. Even though I'm hidden behind a stone wall, I duck down by reflex and hold my breath until I hear the door to the laundry room close behind them. My mind blanks and I can't remember if the chair I'm in is visible from Aza's apartment windows. Just to be safe, I gather my things and rush inside.

I dump my tea in the sink, pour a glass of wine, and gulp half of it standing up. Is Aza blind? Does she really not get that Diane's after Jalal? Or does she trust him that much? Do I?

"Oh!" Equally startled, I turn at the sound. Aza's standing in the door from the laundry room. "I thought you went to the zoo," she says.

"Obviously not."

Aza laughs weakly and glances past me at the open windows, probably wondering if I overheard anything.

"Did you want something, Aza?"

Her gaze flicks toward my glass, and she blushes.

I smile. "Hitting up Jalal's wine supply?"

"Guilty," she says.

"Help yourself."

"Well, since you're having some too, why don't Diane and I join you?"

Not waiting for my response, she backs away from the door and calls up the stairs for Diane. I could list a dozen reasons why I don't want to drink with Diane, and all of them start with Jalal. Instead, I down the last of my first glass and vow to follow it with several more.

"I'm sorry," Aza says, stepping into the kitchen, "I just realized you stayed home to have some time alone, and we're barging in on that."

"It's all right. They'll be home soon anyway." Diane comes in and we trade phony smiles before I look away. Should I offer something to eat? "Would you like—"

"Got it," Aza says, crackers already in hand.

Jalal would have automatically served, not asked. I should know to do that by now.

Aza sets the crackers on the counter along with two cheeses from the fridge and starts arranging them on a serving plate. "Open whatever bottle you like, Renee."

Diane struts to the table and sits, waiting to be served. "I love girl talk," she says.

Would it be rude if I strangle her now? I open the wine and while it breathes, I gather the wine glasses and set them on the table. If I had a ring like the Borgia's, I could dribble a bit of poison into Diane's glass. Not enough to kill, just enough to make her puke all night. Aza sets out the food, and I retrieve the wine, grabbing another bottle while I'm at it. Maybe if Diane gets drunk she'll reveal her black heart in front of Aza. I fill Aza's glass and mine, and then set the bottle down. I'll be damned if I'm serving Diane.

"What are you planning for Jalal's birthday?" Aza says.

Crap. Did she have to mention that in front of her? Though, I can't imagine Diane didn't already know the date. Who am I kidding? If Aza hasn't already invited her, she's invited herself. "Since we had such a big get together last year," I say, "I thought I'd have a small dinner party, just family, Judith and Hank …"

"Do you think that's what he'll want?" From the disdain in Diane's voice it's clear she doesn't.

"Yes, Diane, I do. I think he'll be relieved, actually."

"This year has certainly been a switch from the solitude you were both used to on the coast," Azadeh says. "Let me know how I can help."

I wish I had Aza's talent for pouring oil on troubled water. "Have you set a date for your wedding?" I ask her.

"Not yet. Probably in the spring. Or maybe before Christmas." She laughs.

"I don't know why you want to ruin a good thing by getting married," Diane says.

She smiles after she says that, but I can tell she's not joking. "What do you have against marriage?" I ask.

"I think it's an outmoded custom."

"It's not just a custom," Aza says.

"Really?" Diane says. "What purpose does it serve?"

"It's a commitment—"

"Ha. With your experience, Azadeh, you should know how meaningless that 'commitment' is."

The hurt evident on Aza's face spurs my tongue. "
God
, you're rude."

Diane's eyes flash at me. Then she smiles and squeezes Aza's hand. "Oh, sweetie, you know I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm happy you have Paul in your life. I just don't understand why you want to marry him."

It sickens me that Aza gives her even a half smile. "So, Diane," I say, "are you divorced or have you never had the opportunity to marry?"

Her lips imitate a smile while she refills her glass. "Let's just say I've never seen the need to limit myself to one man."

"Do you have children?" I ask.

"No, thank God."

Indeed. What child would want this coldhearted bitch as a mother?

"I'm going to drop my classes," Aza says.

Her announcement is followed by a few seconds of silence while Diane and I grasp the change of subject, and then we chorus, "Why?"

"My heart's not in it."

"But you've only just started in creative writing," Diane says. "You have to give yourself time to develop your art."

Aza smiles. "I think it's evident 'art' is beyond me. Besides, I'd like to be free to travel more with Paul." She turns to me. "I'd work it out with you, of course."

"I've told you I can handle the kids on my own, Aza. It's nice to have your help, and your company, but go whenever you want to. We'll still have Kristen's help, and you know we'll be here for her too."

Aza laughs. "Oh yes, Jalal would keep her locked up or hire a body guard. I'll come home to a daughter ready to murder me."

"But you can't drop
my
class," Diane says. "At least finish this quarter. How would it look if you're not even there for your brother's lecture?"

"What?" I say. "His what?"

The smug gleam in Diane's eyes when she turns to me makes me wish I'd kept my mouth shut.

"He didn't tell you?" she says.

"He—" Saved by the garage door opening! I hurry to greet Jalal and the kids. Adam is bent backwards with the effort to carry a stuffed animal bigger than he is.

"Look, Mama, my big elfunt."

"That's one giant elephant all right." I kiss him and his toy. When I straighten, Jalal is waiting for his kiss. "I guess I should be thankful you didn't buy him the real thing."

"Jealous," he says.

Mia Grace is asleep on his shoulder. I start to reach for her but then stop and tell him to take her upstairs. "Adam, go show Aunt Aza your new friend." I follow Jalal. When he comes out of the nursery, I'm waiting. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to speak to Diane's class?"

He traces his mustache with a thumb and forefinger and then clears his throat. "I might not do it. I mean, I probably will, but I … this is not for weeks. If I do it. I was going to tell you when I made up my mind."

I don't get it. He almost seems embarrassed. "Why are you hesitant? You speak to poetry groups all the time." He only nods. "Jalal, I don't care if you do it or not. I just didn't like hearing it first from Diane."

He nods again. "Can we talk about this later?" He points toward the stairs. "I promised Adam I would give him ice cream."

I follow him back down the stairs, not sure I understand what's going on. Maybe it's the wine. Or maybe I don't know who Jalal is anymore. Then Diane's smug look flashes before me, and I fight the urge to kick him down the last few steps.

"I had an interesting talk with Diane yesterday," I tell Judith. We're sitting in her living room, or rather she's sitting and I'm pacing.

"Interesting?"

"She doesn't believe in marriage."

"That's convenient. Keeps her conscience quiet when she flirts with other women's husbands."

"She doesn't believe in motherhood either."

"Thank God."

I laugh. "That's what she said." I pause at a window. "Judith, why didn't Meredith have children? With her first husband, I mean."

"You still don't feel free to talk to Jalal about her, do you?"

"It feels like an intrusion."

"Is that the only reason?"

I shrug. She knows it's not.

"To put it simply," she says, "Meredith and Stephen put their work first."

"That's so sad."

"Yes. It is. After Stephen died, she had no one. She was the loneliest person I'd ever met."

"Was that part of your bond, that neither of you had children?"

Judith's face goes so completely slack I fear she's having a stroke. In an instant she recovers. Then she stands and walks to the fireplace at the other end of the room and lifts a framed photo from the mantel. She holds it to her chest with one hand and with the other gestures for me to join her on the couch. "This is Nicholas," she says and shows me a photo of a handsome dark-haired boy.

I recognize Judith's smile immediately. "You have a son? Jalal's never mentioned—"

"Jalal never met him. Neither did Meredith. He died when he was nineteen, two months after this photo was taken."

"I'm so sorry."

"Meredith was childless by choice. I became childless by suicide."

"Oh, Judith …" I take her hand. She squeezes mine, and then drops it and stands to take the photo back where it belongs.

"You never really lose a child, of course," she says. "A hole is ripped in your heart, but you keep living, or what passes for living. You do what you have to do to get by. I drank. A lot." She sets the photo down and returns to the couch. "I became a horrible person. My husband divorced me, so I married another, and another. I surrounded myself with equally horrible people … except for Meredith. She was patient and kind and good. She tried to talk to me about my drinking. She was a truly decent person. And she put up with my shit for a long time." She leans forward, picks up her glass of iced tea, and takes a long drink.

"You don't drink anymore," I say.

"I'm getting to that. So then Meredith fell in love with Jalal … and I tried to break them up because I was jealous. Not of her. Not because I wanted him myself—though, of course, he's a marvelous specimen of the human male. No, I was jealous of Jalal because he became everything to Meredith. She had no time for me. He stole my only friend."

"But I thought there were four of you in The Wanton Women and Wine Society."

"Donna and Carol." She dismisses them with a wave of her hand. "Imagine Diane times ten. Anyway, eventually Meredith allowed me back in her life. Jalal and I became good friends, actually. He introduced me to Hank, for which I'm eternally grateful." Judith takes another sip of her tea and gazes beyond this room to somewhere in the past. She's quiet, remembering. "Then Meredith died." Judith sighs and focuses on me again. "And that was the end of many things, good and bad. The end of the Wanton Women—good. The end, for a while, of our friendship with Jalal—bad. The end of my drinking—very good. It began with one death and ended with another. I owe her my sobriety."

Her honesty loosens my reserve. "I've felt like Meredith resents me being with Jalal, being in her house."

"Nonsense. She would want Jalal to be happy, and that can only be if he's with you."

I stand and walk to a window.

"What's on your mind, Renee?"

I watch her gardeners pull up and climb out of their truck. "Jalal is keeping secrets," I say.

"How do you know?"

"He's lecturing at city college … in one of Diane's classes. She sprung that on me yesterday. You should have seen her eat it up when she realized Jalal hadn't told me." When Judith says nothing, I feel even more stupid. I turn away from the window. "You knew?"

"He mentioned to us that he was thinking about it."

"But not to me."

"You're reading more into this than you should. I'm sure he'll explain if you ask."

"I did. He brushed it off." I study her face when I ask, "What business is he discussing with Hank lately?" It's subtle, but her expression reflects two things: she knows, and she's going to lie to me.

"Oh, I guess it's the same financial things they discuss every time they get together. You've heard them."

So that's how it is. Now I can't trust Judith to be honest with me, either. I don't dare ask Jennie if she knew about the lecture and didn't tell me. I have to believe in someone. I leave the window and retrieve my purse from the chair where I left it. "I'm having a small dinner party for Jalal's birthday on the fifteenth. Will you and Hank come?"

"We wouldn't miss it."

J
ennie arrives early, bringing not only Jalal's birthday cake but also three of his favorite pies. The lemon meringue goes into the fridge, but she displays the other two and the cake on the dining room sideboard. Adam keeps slipping in there to stand on a chair, staring goggle-eyed and whispering, "Wow." He's definitely inherited Jalal's sweet tooth.