An Illusion of Trust (Sequel to The Brevity of Roses) (24 page)

"I'm happy you have the opportunity to travel with Paul," I tell Aza, "but I've missed you."

"Jalal said you've started spending more time in Bahía."

"He tells you everything, doesn't he?"

She laughs and then looks at me. "You're serious? Jalal and I are close, yes, but in no way does he confide 'everything' to me. Though, I think he's usually truthful if I question him."

When Mia Grace picks up something and directs it toward her mouth, we both leap from the bench to stop her. As we sit back down, Aza says, "Are you and Jalal having problems?"

For a second, my breath catches in my throat. "Did he tell you that?"

"No, but it seems you're fishing to see if I know something. And earlier you made a comment about you two rushing into marriage."

"I … I didn't mean it like that."

"I do know that Jalal's worried he's not making you happy. I thought that was more about the kids, though."

"The kids?"

"He believes you don't think he's a good father."

"That's crazy. He's like the perfect father. How could he doubt that?"

She shrugs and looks away.

"Azadeh."

"Well, you're getting better about it, but whenever he tries to do things for the kids like feed them, or give them baths, or whatever, you tend to step in and take over. He feels like you don't trust him."

I shake my head. "That's not it. I just feel like that's
my
job. I didn't realize he thought I didn't trust him. I'll watch that." The truth is, sometimes I'm afraid he's doing my job better than I am.

"He follows your lead on everything," she says. "I was with him in the market the other day and saw him comparing prices.
Prices
." She shakes her head in amazement.

"Good lord. I'd better call the bank. He must be broke." It feels good to laugh with her. Aza's insights into Jalal are what I've missed most since Diane appeared. To avoid Diane, I sacrifice time with Aza.

"So, if it's not Jalal, what's making you unhappy?"

Adam howls and, forgive me, I'm glad for the interruption. "He's scraped his knee. Watch Mia Grace." I pick up Adam and carry him back to the bench. I wash off the dirt and a smear of blood with our little bottle of what Jalal told him was magic water. Usually that does the trick, but he's still whimpering. "I think they're tired. We'd better go home." I set the kids in the stroller and open their lunch boxes, so they can eat during the walk back to the car. If all goes well, they'll both fall asleep on the way home.

Aza doesn't say much until we head up The Knolls road. "Are you sorry you married Jalal?"

I check the rear-view mirror before answering.

"They nodded off a few minutes ago," she says.

"Oh. Of course I'm not sorry."

"Then why did you say you rushed—"

"Timewise, Aza. That's all I meant."

"Renee."

I didn't fool her. Surprise, surprise. "Okay. Sometimes I wonder if that's how Jalal feels."

"Oh my god. Now
that's
crazy talk."

"He's keeping secrets, Aza." She stiffens. I sense it as much as see it from the corner of my eye. She knows.

"Oh, you know Jalal," she says. "He rarely shares what's on his mind until he's sure."

"Sure about what?" I brake the car and wait for the gate to slide open.

"Whatever's on his mind."

"That's not true. He talks things out with me all the time." When her brows shoot up, I say, "Oh. You mean he's already made up his mind and just pretends to discuss it with me?"

"Probably. Be honest. You do the same thing. Don't we all? But that doesn't mean you can't
change
his mind." Aza nods her head toward the open gate and I continue up the drive.

I'm sure she knows whatever secret Jalal's keeping from me, and I'm just as sure she's not going to tell me. But whatever it is, I'm no longer as sure it involves Diane. Then again, like she said, Jalal doesn't tell her everything.

"Come on, Adam, it's time to get out of the tub. Don't you want to call Daddy and say good night?" He shakes his head and giggles. "Silly, of course you do."

"Baba," Mia Grace says. She looks over my shoulder and smiles. Adam giggles again when Jalal drapes a towel over my head.

"Very funny." I pull the towel off and wrap Mia Grace in it. "It's a good thing I'm not easily spooked."

"I know that about you," Jalal says and helps Adam out of the tub. "Did they brush their teeth?"

"I brushed hers, but he was already in the tub."

By the time Jalal and Adam join us in the nursery, Mia Grace is dressed in pajamas and nursing. I move from the rocker to the loveseat, so she can see Jalal while he reads the book Adam's carrying. Most nights, lately, she soon abandons the breast and sits up for a better look at the pictures. I lean my head against Jalal's shoulder and imagine how this scene would look in a picture book. How can he doubt he's a good father?

As usual, Adam lobbies for another story, and Mia Grace has nodded off, so Jalal carries him to bed for the second book. After I put Mia Grace in her crib and check the monitor, I kiss Adam goodnight, and then listen to Jalal read as I tidy the kids' bathroom. I'm only half paying attention until I hear a certain line. For just a second I hear a different man's voice and my knees give out. I drop down on the edge of the tub. I bought that book for Adam because it was one of the few I owned as a child. I remember reading it to Brandon and Nicole and Amber, but until now I'd blocked the memory of my father reading it to me. My vision swims and I wipe angrily at my eyes. He also
left
you, Renee. Remember that.

The story is over and they're saying goodnight. I hang up the last towel, plug in the nightlight, and switch off the overhead light. From the bathroom doorway, Jalal looks like a benevolent giant pulling up the blanket over Adam's tiny body. I love this man. I have to ignore all the crazy stuff I'm imagining. I'm going to believe what Jennie and Aza and Judith tell me. Jalal couldn't be happier. He straightens and smiles at me. I'm going to be happy too.

We meet at the door into our room. "Tub or shower?" he whispers. He didn't need to add a Mrs. Vaziri. There's no mistaking the gleam in his eyes.

We started in the shower and ended on the bed. I lift a section of the damp coverlet and feel the blanket underneath. "Do you mind getting up so I can take this off?"

"You have nothing left to take off, sweet love."

"Ha ha. Move your ass."

He stands and rubs a hand across his stomach. "Are you hungry? I am. Shall I bring up something or do you want to go downstairs?"

"Bring it up. Wait." I pull the coverlet off the bed and wad it up. "Take this down to the big dryer and put it on air dry."

He returns with red wine, rosemary bread, parmesan oil, and a pear. "You are so predictable," I tell him.

"Does that translate to boring?"

"You never bore me."

He sets the tray on the table and pours the wine. I start toward him, but he meets me halfway, carrying the glasses. When he doesn't hand me one, I look at him, questioning. He gazes back, searching my eyes. Ten seconds, twenty, thirty. Oh god. What's he about to tell me? My mouth dries up. I grab a glass and take a gulp.

And then he smiles. "I love you," he says.

He scares the hell out of me to say he loves me?

He points at me. "And now you say …"

I rise on tiptoe and kiss him. "I love you."

"Whew," he says. "You are still too slow on your responses." He beckons for us to sit at the table. He dips a piece of bread in oil, hands it to me, and takes another for himself as if we're performing a ritual, but then he takes a bite and chews, saying nothing.

"How did the meeting go?" I ask.

He shrugs and takes a sip of his wine.

"What does that mean, Jalal? Did you advise Hank to make the deal?"

"He wants to research it more."

"How was dinner?"

"Dinner?"

"Didn't you have dinner with Jason and Ryan?"

"Oh. Yes. It was fine."

"Why do I feel like I'm forcing every bit of information from you?" His eyes are blank. Is he making up something? Are these pauses to make sure he's keeping his lies straight?

He picks up the pear, cuts off a piece, and hands it to me. "Would you say we have a good marriage?"

The pear sours in my mouth. I choke it down. "Yes. Of course." I drink the last of the wine in my glass. I don't like this turn in the conversation. "You don't think so?"

"I do, yes. But … in the past, I misled myself. I saw things the way I wanted them to be, not as they were. So sometimes …"

In the past? Our past, or is he talking about his past with Meredith? Either is dangerous territory, but if he's finally realized he misled himself about me, this is the end. I can't speak. I can barely breathe.

He leans forward, and combs his fingers back through his hair.

I can't take the tension. "Jalal, if you're trying to tell me something, just say it."

He sighs. "I am more tired than I realized, I guess."

I stand behind his chair and massage his shoulders. After a few minutes, his muscles release their knots. "I do love you," I whisper in his ear. He lifts my hand off his shoulder and kisses my fingertips, then holds them to his lips as though I'm silencing him. "Come, dear husband. Let's get some sleep before the next generation wakes."

By some miracle, both kids slept a little later than usual this morning, so Jalal and I are almost awake before our first cups of caffeine. Aza is already up and doing laundry, so when she hears the four of us come downstairs, she carries our folded coverlet into the kitchen. "Let me cook breakfast for you," she says, "and believe it or not, Kristen is upstairs baking muffins."

"She's awake this early on a day off school!" I wrestle Mia Grace into the highchair.

"Is the world ending?" asks Jalal who, determined to assist, opens the fridge and starts pulling out ingredients.

"Nothing so dramatic," Aza says. "She's buttering me up because she wants me to buy her a car."

"Yeah, I know. She asked if I'd be offended if she got a pink Jeep like mine."

"I am
not
buying her a new car. She can get a job and save for a used one."

"She has a part-time job," I say. "She's a huge help with the kids, especially now that you're gone so often, but we don't really pay her."

"You give her money all the time. Plus, she's family; she's supposed to help out."

"I think Renee's point is that if Kristen gets another job, we would have to hire a nanny, which would cost us far more than we pay her."

"So you're going to start paying her a salary?" Aza asks.

"Either that," Jalal says, "or buy her a car."

"Or give her mine." Jalal and Aza look surprised when I say that because the Jeep was my dream car. I cried when Jalal bought it for me. But that was a dream from another life. "I've been thinking about getting something roomier, an SUV maybe."

"Sounds good to me," Jalal says.

"I'll think about it," Aza says. "Don't mention it to Kristen."

I can tell by the look in his eye Jalal's already decided to buy me a new car, no matter what Aza decides about the Jeep. He'll fill that fourth spot in that garage by Thanksgiving. Maybe within the week.

Aza's phone chirps. "It's Kristen," she says and replies to the text message.

A few seconds later Kristen thunders down the stairs, bursts into the kitchen, and announces, "These are the best muffins I've ever made."

"Can I have?" Adam asks. Mia Grace signals her want.

"Oops," Kristen says. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I tell her. "Give me one." I cut it in half and then again, giving each of the kids a quarter. "They'll still eat their eggs. Won't you, sweeties?" Adam wrinkles his nose. He's recently developed an aversion to sweet talk.

Kristen pours herself a cup of tea and sits beside me at the table. She angles toward me, away from her mother, and speaks just above a whisper. "Could you take me to the mall this morning?"

Aza hears anyway. "What do you need to shop for?"

Kristen rolls her eyes. "Dad sent me some money for clothes."

"I'll take you," Aza says.

"Thanks, Mom, but Renee gets my style."

Jalal puts his arm around Aza's shoulders. "I believe she just called you old."

"Then she just called you older."

Ah, breakfast at the Vaziris. What better way to start the day?

Damn, the girl can shop. I do believe Kristen tries on every style of jeans in the mall—twice. She talks non-stop, with frequent reminders to convince Aza to buy her a car. It's hard to keep from hinting she might be getting the one she wants. We end our shopping spree with a trip through the food court, where I give no thought to fat, sodium, or calorie counts. All in all, a fun morning.

When we get back to the house, though Kristen knows her mother is probably still in the house with Jalal, she heads straight up to their apartment. To call Brittany, she says. To hide a couple of the edgier band tees she bought, I think. I set my bags on the kitchen counter before I realize I can hear Jalal and Aza, apparently putting the kids down for their naps, talking over the monitor.

"… to tell her, Aza."

"You're going to blindside her?"

"No. When the time is right—"

"That's
now
, Jalal. If you've already decided to do this, she should know as soon as possible."

"I disagree." His voice softens as he speaks to Mia Grace, "Sleep tight, sweet baby" and then hardens again, "and it is not your place to—" The nursery door closing cuts off Jalal's voice.

I run out the back door and vomit my lunch. Oh god. The happy family that sat around the table this morning is a lie. Jalal's decided to leave me. Oh, God, how am I going to pretend I didn't hear them? I grab the hose and wash the mess off the flagstones and under the shrubbery. When the door opens behind me, I turn the spray on my shoes.

"What are you doing?" Jalal asks.

"My shoes … chocolate. I must have stepped in some at the mall."

"You could have washed them off in the laundry sink."

"Oh … yeah." I can't face him yet, so I take off my shoes and carry them over to the door that leads into the laundry room. I nearly collapse with relief when he doesn't follow. I'll take the kids to Bahía. I need time to figure out what I'm going to do. Oh, God, the kids. This is not fair to them. Damn him. Fuck him. Don't cry. Don't. I am.