wouldn't understand."
"Not all guys are like the ones you were friends with in Seattle. Just like Brittany's a good girl, there are also good guys."
"Aw come on, Renee, what guy doesn't want sex?"
I can't help myself; I smile. "I didn't say they don't
want
it, but nice guys won't
expect
it, and even if they try, they
will
take no for an answer. You do have the right to say no. You can be different here. No one here knows Kristen, the Seattle version."
For a minute, she just stares at the parking lot. "I guess it's not like I have
slut
tattooed on my forehead."
"You don't think of yourself as a slut, do you? Because you're not."
"Mom thinks I am."
"I'm
positive
she doesn't. She loves you so much she gave up her home to move here and give you a fresh start. It would break her heart to know you thought so little of yourself." Kristen turns her head, but I'd already caught the glisten of tears. "Why can't you and Brittany ease into it together?" I ask. "Group date. Find a couple of nice guys to share a pizza or see a movie with. Agree to meet the guys there. Keep it public, so there's no temptation."
She nods.
I start the car. Do as I say. It's amazingly easy to give advice to do the opposite of what I did. Aza admires me. What would she think if she knew how I was before I met her brother? Trying to keep the real Renee hidden is like trying to eat one of those huge sloppy burgers without letting any of it squish out the sides. Sooner or later, you make a mess of it.
Azadeh and her teacher, Diane, have become friends. The semester is over, and Aza received an
A
in her creative writing class, but Jalal wonders if she really earned it. He didn't say that to her, of course, and since she still won't let him see anything she wrote for the class, he has no way to know. I'm suspicious of Diane's motives too—not for the grade but for the friendship. Her disappointment is obvious when she comes here with Aza and realizes Jalal's not home. For Aza's sake, I hope I'm wrong about Diane's using her.
Diane's in luck today. When she and Aza come back from shopping, Adam and I are in the pool and Jalal's reading in the shade beside it with six-month-old Mia Grace curled like a kitten on his chest. Diane doesn't even ask if he minds before she pulls up a chair and plops herself down beside him. "Azadeh says you're building a writing studio out here."
"I might."
"Yeah," I say, "because a fourteen-room house just doesn't have enough space to write in."
Diane lifts her chin, so she's literally looking down her nose at me. "It's probably hard for you to understand, Renee, but a proper environment is crucial to inspiration."
What a pretentious bitch. I round my eyes and deadpan, "I had no idea." Jalal's mouth draws up so tight it looks like he's about to whistle, but he keeps it together by not meeting my eyes. Diane ignores me and asks Jalal a question about some book. Her blather doesn't interest me, and I go back to playing with Adam. I'm not usually the one in the pool with him. He and Jalal take to water like fish. I'm more content to sit beside it, though a pool offers a sorry substitute for the serenity of the ocean.
Now, though I think Jalal was just being polite at first, all three of them are debating the merits of some poet I've never heard of. I might as well be on the moon. He would deny it, but Jalal thinks I'm stupid. I hear the difference in the language he uses when he speaks to others about the topics he never discusses with me. And now here's dear Diane talking poetry all over the place. So what if I never went to college? I know about hard living. I know about independence. I know about reality. Concepts he has only an acquaintance with.
"Renee," Jalal says, "what are you daydreaming about?"
"Nothing," I say, absently. Then I look up and see Adam out of the pool, standing beside Jalal. Oh, God; he could have drowned! I'm beside Adam in seconds, wrapping him in a towel, or trying to. I'm shaking so hard I