Wrong Way Renee

by Wynter Daniels

  As soon as he left, Renee studied her plate. “It looks good. But what is it?” She tried not to sound rude or ungrateful. Cleave had obviously gone to a lot of trouble so she tried to put a damper on her irritation.

  “It's pheasant with sherry sauce. I went hunting when I was in Georgia and had it sent here. I had the chef prepare it special.” He puffed out his chest.

  “You did all that? For me?”

  “I'd do anything for you, Renee. You must know how deeply I care for you. I'm falling in love with you.”

  She swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze another moment.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “I'm not…feeling what you are.” She pulled her hand away.

  “It's okay. I'll wait. As long as it takes, I'll wait for you.”

  She sighed. This was not going as she'd hoped.

  They ate their dinner and drank the rest of the wine. She resolved to tell him she couldn’t see him anymore after dinner was over. Why ruin the meal he’d worked so hard to plan?.

  The waiter came to clear the dishes away.

  “Please tell the chef everything was superb.” Cleave filled his wine glass.

  “Yes sir.” The waiter left, closing the door as he went.

  “Okay. So I can't talk you into moving in with me, yet. How about spending the night with me tonight?”

  She squirmed. “No, I can't. And I need to tell you something. I don't want to hurt you, but…”

  He cut her off again. “I can be patient when it comes to you moving in, but how long do you think I can wait for…”

  There was a knock on the door. A woman in a white uniform walked in. To Renee's horror, she realized it was Eloise. All the blood drained from her face. Her whole body stiffened.

  Eloise looked right at her and then at Cleave. “I wanted to thank you for your compliments, Mr. Nichols.”

  “Everything was superb. You outdid yourself,” he said. “It really made our special evening perfect.”

  “Thank you, sir. I'm glad you and your…lady friend enjoyed it.” Eloise took a long look at Renee but never said a word to her.

  Renee pleaded with her eyes. Please understand, please don't tell Joe. But she said nothing. Eloise left and Renee closed her eyes a moment, trying to regain her composure.

  “Are you all right?” Worry creased his forehead.

  What had she done? Everything was ruined. She sucked in a breath, afraid she might pass out. “Actually, I do think I'm coming down with something. Would you mind taking me home? Now.”

  He jumped up to help her stand. “Right away, sweetheart. I'll have you home in a jiffy. Let’s go to my house. It's closer and I can take care of you.”

  She shook her head, holding back tears. “I just want to go home.”

  He drove her to her apartment then walked her in to make sure she was all right.

  “You can go. I have to lie down.” As soon as he left, she broke down. Tears streamed down her face as she hugged her knees to her body and rocked.

  What have I done? I've lost Joe. Sweet, wonderful Joe.

  Chapter Nine

  Renee grabbed her purse Monday morning and she and Becky headed out her door. “How are you holding up?”

  Becky fanned herself with her hand. “Scared to death, excited, you name it.”

  “It'll be fine, Beck. I'll be with you.”

  “How was your fancy date with Cleave?”

  “Where do I begin?” She told her about the catastrophic evening with Cleave on the way to the car.

  “Have you spoken to Joe?” Becky let her into her car.

  Renee’s chest tightened. “I left messages on his home and cell phone, but he hasn't called me back. And you know Joe always calls back. I think I've lost him.” A lump lodged in her throat as she buckled herself in. At least she wasn’t crying. She suspected she was fresh out of tears after spending all day yesterday sobbing over Joe.

  “But you don't know that for sure.”

  “I do know it. He would have called me. I’m sure his stepmother told him. I wish he'd give me a chance to explain.” She’d left half a dozen messages on his voicemail.

  Becky sped up to pass a slow moving car.

  “We're not in a hurry, are we?” She gripped the dashboard.

  “Sorry.” She slowed down. “What would you say? Sorry, Joe, I was seeing this other guy, too. I mean if you're going to have a relationship, you have to begin with honesty.”

  She slumped in her seat. “I guess that's where I went wrong with both of them. My family wants so badly for me to be with Cleave. And I like him, I really do. But I love Joe. I guess I'll never have the opportunity to explore that.”

  Becky didn’t dispute the point “So now what?”

  She’d been asking herself the same question all night as she lay in bed, wide awake. “I guess I'll just date Cleave. I can't move in with him, though. I don't even think I can sleep with him—not yet.” She'd been so ready to make love with Joe, but it wasn't like that with Cleave. Her relationship with him was more about friendship. And family pressure.

  Becky glanced at her. “Hmm. So why continue to date Cleave if you're not really attracted to him?”

  “It's hard to explain. I do find him attractive. But I keep comparing him to Joe. I'm so beyond turned on by Joe. It's not like that with Cleave. I guess it's what I should do though.”

  They merged onto the highway. “The lawyer wins by default, huh? That ought to make him feel good. If he knew, that is. What is it about Joe that turns you on so much? I mean, let's face it, kiddo, that attraction will only sustain you for so long. That's only one component of a relationship.”

  “I have more than just an attraction to Joe. I like him as a person. He makes me laugh and I feel better than I’ve ever felt when I’m with him. I’m happy when he’s around. I was. It’s hard to explain my feelings about Cleave.” She sighed. “I've told him I'm not ready to sleep with him yet. And he seems to understand. Maybe if we did make love, my feelings for him would grow. Do you think it could work that way?”

  “Sometimes. Charles didn't curl my toes when we started dating, but as I got to know him, the attraction grew. After we slept together, that was it.”

  Renee's stomach churned. “Let's talk about something else. I'm too depressed for this conversation. Do you want to have a signal if you want me to leave or something while we're talking to Justin?”

  “Okay. How about I say 'Renee, would you give us a moment?' How would that be?” She smirked.

  “Smart ass.”

  They drove along A1A in Daytona Beach until they found the Beachside Café, which was recommended by the private investigator as a good place to meet. Becky pulled into the lot and took a deep breath. “I'm so nervous. I feel like I'm going to pass out.”

  Renee rubbed her friend's back. “You'll be fine. I'll be right there with you.” She glanced around the parking area and found only a few cars. “The place looks pretty empty. Maybe he's not here yet.”

  “I don't know. The PI told me he has brown curly hair and brown eyes, so keep your eyes peeled.”

  “Brown curly hair. Who knew?”

  They headed inside. The restaurant was small with fisherman's netting and lobster traps hanging from the ceiling. No hostess greeted them, so they sat themselves at a table near the door. The menu was written on a chalkboard.

  A waitress came over and they ordered two iced teas. The door opened and a young couple came in. A sheen of perspiration formed on Becky’s face.

  “Calm down, Beck,” Renee said quietly. “He'll be here soon. Relax.”

  The words were no sooner out when the door opened again. A young man with shoulder length, curly brown hair came in. He spotted them right away and slowly ambled over. His brown eyes looked so familiar.

  Becky burst into tears as she jumped up, practically knocking the poor guy over. She threw her arms around him, sobbing. He stood there, frozen for a moment with a shell-shocked expression on his face, then he
returned her embrace. They hugged each other and cried for a solid minute as twenty years of suppressed emotions flowed between them.

  Renee couldn't help but cry herself. She felt like she was invading a very private, almost unbearable moment.

  Justin let go, then took a step back, looking his birth mother over from head to toe as Becky did the same. They sat down, their eyes never leaving each other's.

  “Justin, this is my dearest friend, Renee Wright.” Becky’s voice trembled.

  “So nice to meet you, Justin,” she said, her voice breaking.

  He reached across the table to shake her hand, then turned his attention back to the woman he was there to see. “Should I call you Becky?”

  “You can call me whatever you want.” She touched his head. “You have my hair.”

  “And your eyes,” he said.

  She cupped his cheek. “I don't know how to thank you for finding me. I've wanted to meet you for as far back as I can remember. I didn't want to disrupt your life. But I've always wondered. Every year on your birthday, on April twelfth, I wished you a happy birthday. You know, in my head.”

  “My parents told me I was adopted when I was six. I've always been curious about you, too. So you're a hairdresser, I hear. And you're divorced. Can you tell me about my father?”

  The waitress arrived with two iced teas. “You want anything, hun?” she asked Justin.

  “Coke, please.”

  The waitress returned a moment later with his soda. “Y'all want to order now?”

  When neither Becky nor Justin seemed to hear or acknowledge the waitress’s request, Renee said, “Can we get a basket of onion rings and some cheese fries?” Diet be damned. She was too emotional to care.

  Becky folded her arms and leaned them on the table. “Your father,” she began, dropping her head. “Your father was older than me. He was the first boy who paid any attention to me. He loved motorcycles and fast cars. He was a student at Georgia State, but his family lived in Orlando. We dated a few months. When he found out I was pregnant, he disappeared. I never heard from him again. I learned through the grapevine he was killed in a motorcycle accident during his junior year.”

  Justin raked his fingers through his hair. Renee thought she saw his eyes tear up.

  “It's been so long since I've thought about him. But I forgave him years ago. He was young and scared.” Becky took a sip of her iced tea. “You have other relatives. My parents are great. My father is a retired teacher and my mom used to sub. They're very active in our temple.”

  Justin smiled. “So is my mother. My dad died a year ago.”

  “I'm sorry,” Becky covered his hand.

  Renee thought of her own parents. She never realized before how lucky she was to have them.

  He nodded. “Thank you. Do you have brothers or sisters? Any other children?”

  “I have an older brother and a younger sister. I have no children—except you. They would all love to meet you sometime, if that's okay.”

  “I'd like that. I have a younger brother. He's adopted too. He's four years younger than me, still in high school.”

  The waitress returned with the appetizers and three plates. They each took some onion rings and fries, eating in silence for a few minutes. Becky took Renee's hand and looked into her eyes.

  “You want me to wait outside?” Renee asked.

  Becky nodded.

  “No problem.” She grabbed one last onion ring then strode outside, glad to be free from the intensity of the scene inside. After sitting on a bench for ten minutes, she got up and alternated between pacing and leaning on the hood of Becky's Volvo. Every few minutes she discreetly glanced in the window. Becky and Justin were talking, smiling and occasionally holding hands. It was nice to witness something happy after wallowing in her own misery for the past day.

  Forty minutes later, mother and son emerged, arm in arm. Becky walked him to his car, then she hugged him for a long moment. “I'll call you next week after I set something up with my family.”

  He nodded. “Goodbye, Becky. I'll talk to you soon.” He waved to Renee.

  As the women watched him drive away, Renee put her arm around her friend. She'd never been more proud of her. “Thank you for bringing me along. It means so much that you trusted me with this. I knew you'd be fine.”

  Becky's eyes misted. “Yeah. It was good. It was…great.”

  They hardly spoke the entire way home. Renee knew her friend had lots of things to process. She turned on the radio a few minutes into their trip.

  An hour later Becky dropped her at her apartment. “I don't know how to thank you for coming along with me.”

  “That's what friends do for each other. I'll see you tomorrow.” She climbed the stairs to her apartment. When she went inside, she noticed the answering machine light flashing. Hoping it was Joe, she pressed the button.

  “Renee, it's Cleave. Just checking to see if you were feeling better. Call me.”

  She slumped and decided she'd call him back later. The emotional experience of the day, though vicarious for her, had exhausted her. She lay in bed watching TV. But nothing eased the ache in her heart and she had a feeling nothing ever would.

  * * * * *

  Tuesday morning, Renee could hardly get out of bed. All she wanted to do was sleep. But she forced herself to get dressed and go to work. Melissa's mood mirrored hers They commiserated with each other about their woes.

  “The doctor said I probably won't be able to carry a pregnancy to term. Our next option is adoption. But that could take years,” Melissa said.

  Renee's heart went out to her. “Maybe you'll get lucky and find a baby sooner. I've heard that going the private route can be a lot quicker.”

  “We have an appointment to see an adoption lawyer tomorrow. I guess we'll know more then.” She let out a sigh. “So, what are you going to do to win your boyfriend back?”

  Renee shrugged. “I don't know that there's anything I can do. He told me I was the first woman he asked out since his fiancé broke his heart, two years ago. Now I've broken it all over again. If I were him, I wouldn't speak to me either.”

  “Why were you with this other man, anyway?”

  “I've sort of been seeing him too.”

  Melissa raised her brow. “Oh.”

  “I know, I know. It sounds bad.”

  “Do you like the other guy?”

  “Cleave is very good to me. He's a lawyer who works with my father and brother-in-law. He has lots of play money and a beautiful house. My family would be thrilled if things went further with us.”

  “Oh, it's serious then?”

  She shrugged. “More serious for him than for me. I was going to break up with him the other night.”

  “If you don't mind me saying so, Renee, you were playing with fire. It was inevitable that you'd get burned.”

  Why did it sound so obvious to everyone else? “Didn't seem like I was doing anything so terrible at the time. I think both relationships got more serious at the same time.”

  “Why are you staying with the lawyer when you don't sound particularly excited about him?”

  That question kept popping up. “Well, he’s not Joe, but I told you, I really like him. He's got it all.”

  “For you or for your family?”

  She wished people would stop saying things like that. Cleave was a wonderful man and she did have some feelings for him. It had nothing to do with what her family wanted. Did it?

  “If this guy is as great as you say, you should be straight with him. I mean, I wouldn't tell him about the other guy, since that's apparently over. But it's not nice to string him along if you know he has certain intentions, especially if it'll never be very serious for you.”

  “I didn't say I couldn't be serious about Cleave. Sometimes it takes more time to build that…intimacy.”

  Melissa shrugged. “If you say so.”

  She finished the manicure, then got Melissa situated at the drying table. Her cell phone ran
g as she returned to her station. “Hello?”

  “Hi. It's Cleave.”

  She tried to smile. “Hey.”

  “I was calling to see how you were feeling. I've been worried about you. I didn't hear from you yesterday.”

  “I had to go to Daytona Beach to help a friend with something. I'm feeling much better. I think it was a bug or something.”

  “I'm glad to hear you're doing better. Do you have any time free to go look for some antiques this weekend?”

  She didn't have to save a night for Joe anymore. The black cloud returned with that thought. “I'm free Saturday after work or any time Sunday.”

  “Don't sound so excited.”

  “Sorry, I'm pretty busy here right now.”

  “Okay. I'll let you go. But please, think about what I asked you at the club. You wouldn't even have to go to work at all. You could go shopping and have lunch with your friends.”

  “My friends all work. They can't have lunch during the week.” The conversation was beginning to irritate her.

  “You'll make more friends who can. Most of the women at the club don't work.”

  Just what she wanted—a bunch of spoiled, bored housewives. “My next client just walked in. I have to get back to work.” She waited for a pang of guilt for the lie but it never came.

  “I'll see you Saturday. We'll do dinner too. Bye.”

  “Bye.” She laid her head on her nail table. He was trying to run her life. Was that what princesses had to endure? Other people planning every aspect of their life? Maybe it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

  Antoine walked by and stopped at her table. “Hey, Eyore. Snap out of it, girlfriend.” He snapped his fingers.

  “What?” She sat up and narrowed her eyes at him.

  “You remind me of Eyore, that sad, sorry ass donkey from 'Winnie the Pooh' who keeps losing his tail. It can't be that bad.” He sat down. “Give me a manicure and tell me all about your problems.” He patted her head.

  She managed a weak smile. Why not? She was free for another hour until her next appointment. She pulled a file and a buffer out of her drawer. “Well, you know I was dating Joe, the cop who you gave a haircut.” She absently filed his nails.