The Brevity of Roses (33 page)

After that, Renee didn’t bother to hide her compulsion to check her phone every few minutes to make sure she hadn’t missed a call or a text message. As if she had no experience waiting tables, she had to remind herself to smile at the customers, to make small talk, to ask if they wanted refills. It was the longest four-hour shift she’d ever worked.

When the lunch crowd had thinned to a few, besides the ever-present Don and Eduardo, Jennie called Renee over to the counter and told her to sit. She set a sandwich in front of her and left to take care of the remaining customers herself. By the time she rang up the last one, Renee had finished eating. Jennie locked the door, put the closed sign in the window, and turned around to a shocked Don and Eduardo staring at her.

“Oh, close your mouths, you old coots,” she said. “It’s my restaurant; I can close it whenever I want. If you need something, get it yourselves.” She took Renee by the hand, and led her toward the kitchen.

“Where are we going?”

“We can’t talk in front of those two gossips.” Jennie crossed the kitchen to a door in the corner and opened it to reveal a steep and narrow stairwell.

“What’s up here?” asked Renee as they started up the steps.

“I used to live up here before I bought my house.”

The upper floor was one large room, a studio apartment. By the lived-in look of the place, Renee wondered if Jennie still spent much of her time up here. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember Jennie ever saying much about her life outside the restaurant. And she’d been too wrapped up in her own life to ask her.

Breathless from the climb, Jennie collapsed onto the couch and patted the seat next to her, inviting Renee to sit. “What’s happened … with you and Jalal?”

“We just talked about Meredith.”

Jennie, still short of breath, managed a huff of a laugh. “And you say that … like it was no big deal.” She motioned for Renee to wait while she took a deep breath, then said, “Please tell me you got through to that man.”

Twisting, then untwisting the hem of her shirt, Renee nodded.

“Thank God!”

Renee couldn’t look at her. “It didn’t go well. He kind of freaked out.”

Jennie leaned over and laid her hand over Renee’s to still her fidgeting. “How freaked?”

“He sort of … collapsed.”

Jennie squeezed Renee’s hand. “Tell me you didn’t leave him alone like that.”

Renee shook her head. “After he fell asleep, I called his sister. She’s with him.”

“Did he ask you to do that?”

Renee shook her head. “I … he—” Her mouth worked silently on its own for a moment, and then, Jennie pulled her closer, trying to comfort her. Renee flailed at her, broke free, and staggered blindly to the middle of the room. It was too much. Too close. They were smothering her.

Jennie pushed herself to her feet. “Renee? Honey, are you all right?”

Renee backed away, holding one hand, palm out, in front of her. The other, she clamped over her mouth. Tears welled up, distorting her vision, but she could tell Jennie’s shape moved no closer.

“I’m going to go downstairs,” Jennie said carefully, “but I want you to stay up here as long as you need to. We’ll talk later. Okay?”

Renee nodded frantically.

“Okay. Everything’s going to be all right, honey. You believe me on that.” Jennie started to reach out, then stopped and laid her hand at her throat. “I’m going now. There’s soda in the fridge. You help yourself to anything you need.”

When Jennie was gone, Renee moved back to the couch. She curled into it, closed her eyes, and sought oblivion. No such luck. Her mind would not shut up. Every decision she’d made in the last six weeks accused her. Why had she decided to stay in this town? Why had she pushed Jalal into a relationship neither of them was looking for? She had no business deciding when Jalal’s obsession with Meredith should end. Some people can’t be—don’t want to be—fixed. But most importantly, what business did she have trying to fix anyone, when she was so obviously screwed up herself? Renee was still lying there an hour later when her cell phone rang.

“I hear Jalal moving around in his room,” Azadeh whispered. “I’ll call you later.”

She hung up before Renee could gather enough pieces of herself to respond. Jalal would recover. He would survive. Life would go on. It always goes on, with or without you. She found the bathroom and washed off her tear-streaked makeup, then she took a Coke from the refrigerator and returned to the couch to wait. Could you be in shock and not know it? Her whole body felt numb. She pressed the cold can against her face to test the sensation.

Fifteen minutes later, Azadeh called again. “I know Jalal woke up; I heard the water running. I waited for him to come out, but he never did. Just now, I peeked in his room and he’s fallen back to sleep, but I’m sure he’ll get up soon. I’ll let you know.”

Renee pocketed her phone and descended the stairs. She knew she should at least pop into the dining room and say goodbye, but it would be so much easier to sneak out the back. Unfortunately, when she opened the door to the kitchen, Jennie was standing three feet away, signing for a delivery.

“Have you heard from Jalal?” asked Jennie as soon as the door closed behind the man.

“Azadeh said he’s still sleeping.”

“You’re going there now, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Jennie planted her hands on her hips. “What do you need to know?”

“I need to think about—”

“Bull.”

“Jennie, I can’t just—”

“The hell you can’t.” Jennie marched to the cupboard next to the pantry, pulled out Renee’s purse, and held it out to her. “Now, you get in your car and go. Be there when he wakes up.”

Renee snatched her purse. “I’m going home to think.”

Jennie stepped between Renee and the door. “You think too much.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s only as complicated as you make it.” Jennie laid her hand against Renee’s cheek. “Go with your heart, this time, honey.”

Renee only looked at her.

Jennie shook her head, sighing. “You’re going home to think about it.” She moved aside, and let Renee start toward the door. “Just don’t get any ideas about leaving town before my wedding,” she said.

Renee gasped. Her eyes wide, she turned back to Jennie. “Wedding! But who?”

Jennie laughed. “Eduardo, of course. The old fool wore me down.”

Renee surprised them both by rushing to hug Jennie. “I promise; I’ll be here. No matter what.” She loosened her hold, but Jennie held tight.

“Renee,” she said, “please be honest with yourself. Why did you confront Jalal?”

All the way home, Jennie’s question was an itch Renee refused to scratch. Then, while she waited for Azadeh’s call, she ignored the question by reading Meredith’s journal. At first, she felt like an eavesdropper, and regretted her promise to read it, but then she became fascinated with the Jalal Meredith described. Renee could barely recognize the man, so alive on these pages. She envied Meredith. No. Not true. At this point in her reading, she hated the woman. In one entry, Meredith had listed the reasons why she felt it best to break off her relationship with Jalal. “As if having him fucking worship you counted for nothing!” Renee threw the journal across the room, determined to forget about it, but its position in the corner waved a red flag, evidence of her jealousy.

She hurried into the bedroom. Pulling a suitcase from the closet with one hand and clothes with the other, she tossed both on the bed. She would come back for Jennie’s wedding. Or maybe not. It was always better to make a clean break. And yet, where would she go, if not back to Sacramento? Her phone rang.

“Jalal’s awake,” said Azadeh. “He wanted to call you, but I told him to give you time.”

“He wanted to talk to me?”

“Actually, he was disappointed you weren’t here.”

Crap!
Jennie had been right. “How is he?”

“He seems all right. I think he’ll be fine,” said Azadeh. “I made him something to eat.”

“Are you still with him?”

“For tonight, but I need to get back to the kids in the morning. I’ll call you before I leave.”

Renee sank down on the bed and stared at her reflection in the mirror. What if Jalal really was fine now? Like someone waking from a deep dream, he would rub his eyes and finally see her for real. And when he did, he wouldn’t want her. He would compare her to Meredith. Renee could tell from reading Meredith’s journal she had been intelligent, educated, and classy. She had seen photos of Meredith online, and that kind of beauty and elegance, was something you were born with. No amount of salon pampering, expensive wardrobe, or etiquette lessons could ever make her Meredith’s equal. Or Jalal’s.

Then it hit her. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. How stupid was she? She had completely misunderstood the reason Azadeh had asked her to read Meredith’s journal. It was only to show her she wasn’t good enough for Jalal.

“Okay,” she said to her mirrored image, “we’re all on the same page.” Then why did she feel like crying? She needed to talk this out. Her notebook lay on the bed. She grabbed it and wrote
Dear Mom,
then scratched it out. Her mother couldn’t help her. She had never helped her when she was alive; she sure as hell couldn’t help her now. Renee pulled on her jeans and headed for the door.

Renee didn’t realize how late it was until she walked into Jennie’s. Eduardo was upturning the chairs on the tables and Don had started sweeping. “Where’s Jennie?” she asked them.

“In the kitchen,” said Eduardo.

She found Jennie loading the dishwasher. “Could you spare a few minutes to talk with me?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Jennie wiped her hands on her apron and pulled Renee by the hand toward the dining room.

“Eduardo, will you finish up in the kitchen? And Don, leave the sweeping and go help him.” Don started to protest, but Jennie silenced him with her usual threat to total up how much he owed her. Jennie directed her to Jalal’s regular booth.

“Azadeh called back,” said Renee. “Jalal’s awake.”

“Why didn’t
he
call you?”

“He wanted to, but she talked him out of it. She told him to give me some time.”

Jennie nodded.

“I know you think I should go right over there, but I’m not ready.”

Jennie folded her arms. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m
not
, Jennie.” Renee grabbed a napkin from the table dispenser and rubbed at a water spot on the tabletop. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Of course you do.”

Renee shot Jennie a warning glare.

Jennie only smiled. “What does your heart tell you?”

“I’m not exactly on speaking terms with my heart.”

“That’s your problem, right there.”

“Hey, you can only take so much hurt—”

“Before you decide to go through life like a cold-hearted bitch?”

Renee’s mouth dropped open. Now, too stunned to be angry, she stared at Jennie.

“Don’t try to tell me you don’t feel anything for Jalal. You’ve cried on my shoulder. Remember?”

Renee shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t help him.”

“You could love him.”

“That’s not … I’m not …” She shook her head again. “Look. His sister gave me his wife’s journal and asked me to read it. She wanted me to see that Meredith was everything I’m not. Or ever could be.
That’s
the kind of woman he needs.”

“If that was his sister’s intent, why is she calling you with updates?”

“Well …”

“I never met Meredith,” said Jennie. “Jalal didn’t start coming in here until after she died. But I saw her a few times around town. She was beautiful and she had that rich look, you know? You could tell she’d always had money. She and Jalal seemed happy, devoted to each other, and then later, the first night Jalal came in here, he looked so lost it broke my heart.”

“That’s what I’m—”

Jennie held up her hand. “Let me finish. At first, I was a little nervous around him, I mean look at this place, it’s good enough for us, but I knew it wasn’t the kind he was used to. He kept coming back, though. He’d sort of claimed this booth and he’d sit here writing, reading sometimes, but mostly writing. At first, I kept my distance, but eventually, I started treating him like an ordinary guy, and my big mouth went to flapping. First thing you know, I’d bring him coffee and sit my fat ass down in this booth, and he’d start spilling his guts.”

“Was he writing the poems for his book, the one about her?”

Jennie nodded. “And I think that held him together for a while. Then the book got published, and that’s when his loss really hit him. He changed. He started running. I guess maybe he’d been a runner before, but then, he started running himself half to death. He told me he was sorry he’d published those poems. Seemed like he felt he’d betrayed her somehow. But you know what I think? I think by writing them he’d let part of her go, and that’s what he was sorry about. He’d been so wrapped up in her; he didn’t know how to live for himself anymore.”

“So he didn’t.”

Jennie took her hand. “Not until he met you.”

“But he didn’t actually ‘meet’ me. I still don’t think he sees me. Not really. And now, if he is ready to move on with his life, he needs to do that on his own.”

Jennie puffed out her breath. “Honey, some men just can’t make it without a woman in their lives. Jalal’s one of them. You love him. Why shouldn’t that woman be you?”

“But what if loving him isn’t enough?” Renee jerked her hand loose from Jennie’s, grabbed a napkin, and wiped angrily at the tears that had sprung up. Jennie sat back and said nothing. After a moment, Renee looked up and saw that she, too, was struggling not to cry.

Jennie cleared her throat. “Life isn’t fair, honey. Some get better moms than they deserve, and a sweetheart like you gets a bitch from hell.” She blew her nose on a napkin. “Let that hurt go. You
have
to. Put the past behind you because, if you don’t, your mother wins. Let Jalal love you and he’ll make you love yourself. Believe me, I know.”

Jennie’s words turned her inside out. Renee bolted for the door. On fire from head to toe, all she could think to do was run.