Wrong Way Renee (41 page)

“But the party's not over, Renee. Can't you put them to be
d? I'll bet they're exhausted.”

The devil inside her resurfaced.
“
I
f you ever want to see them alive again, you'll leave that party right now and come get them. If Gary's so enamored with the senator, let him stay. But one of you needs to collect them right now.
”

She hung up the phone
and checked the
clock on the
DVD player
. Turning the TV to the Disney Channel,
sh
e
stayed put as they
watch
ed
television. She was not taking any chances until she was absolved of any and all responsibility for t
heir safety
.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality only half an hour,
Char
arrived alone to collect her urchins. Renee told her of their exploits as
her sister
wrung her hands.

“As God is my witness, my dear sister, I will never again baby-sit for these little darlings. Are you sure Satan didn't pay you visits about nine mont
hs before
each of these kids were
born?”

Char
scowled.
“That's a horrible thing to say. Lots of kids are
…
mischievous.”

“
T
hat word doesn't even come close. I will be expecting you tomorrow to finish cleaning the
mess they made of my bathroom.”

“Okay, okay, I know they really put you through the ringer tonight. I'm sorry about that. And I will take care of your bathroom, I promise. But I wish you would
think about something for me.”

Renee raised an eyebrow.
“What?”

“Please think about why every time you speak to me it's with animosity. You're always ready to attack me or t
ease me. What did I do, Renee?”

“Mommy, Mommy, Gary hit me,
”
Alyssa whined.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“In the car-now,
”
Char
growled.
“Think about what I said, Renee. I'll see you in the morning.
”
She took her children and left.

Renee was never so happy to see any guests leave. But
she had to admit,
her sister's parting words bothered her.
Char
was right
. She hardly ever spoke a
kind word to her only sister.

S
he tried to remember a time when their conversations were civil.
Her mind jumped back to when Alyssa was a baby, when Gary Junior was born,
Char
's wedding, high school graduation.

In her mind's eye, she saw the two of them as teenagers, laughing, having sleepovers in each other's bedroom. They used to be such good friends, where had it all gone bad? She
realized
the problem lay with her, not
Char
. Yes, her sister could be annoying. But she wasn't so bad.
Char
was never mean to her, never did her wrong.

Then the epiphany came. And with it came the shame. It was plain old, ugly envy. It had started when
Char
had announced she was pregnant. Renee vividly remembered her sister revealing her condition at a family barbecue. Gary had recently made partner at the firm and they'd sold their starter home and bought the massive Victorian one they now lived in.
Char
was wearing a pink and white, checkered skirt, looking all thin and
gorgeous
. Gary looked like the happiest guy in the world.

But Renee's world was crashing down around her. She'd graduated with her bachelor's degree that May. In June she told her parents she wasn't going to law school, after all. Her boyfriend,
Jamal
, whom she'd assumed she would eventually marry, had just that week broken up with her, telling her he was in love with one of her roommates. It was the worst time in her life. And one of the best times in her sister's.

So, while there was no denying that
Char
's children were little monsters,
Char
herself was
n't that bad. A little annoying. W
ell, maybe a lot annoying. But she didn't deserve all the crap Renee was dishing out.
Problem was, Char’s life was still perfect. And Renee’s was anything but. She was being pulled in too many directions and inevitably, she’d go the wrong way.

But there was one thing she knew she had to do, knew it was the right thing.
She resolved to be nicer to her. And she'd tell her that-as soon as
Char
restored her bathroom to its pre-powdered splendor.

* * * * *

“
Lord
, Renee, it's a good thing my stomach virus came on when it did. Could you imagine if
your niece and nephew had
pulled
a stunt like that
here, with me, and then I got sick like that?
”
Cleave
popped a grilled shrimp into his mouth
Friday evening
.
“
I wouldn't have a house left.”

She go
shuddered
as she glanced around his perfectly
ordered your
dining room
.
“My thinking was to get them out of my apartment so they couldn't do any more damage there. Also, I wanted to keep them occupied so their devious little minds wouldn't think of any other bad things to do. Unfortunately, Alyssa was not t
o be entertained.”

He
covered her hand with his
.
“We could have handled them together. We can handle anything. We make a great team, you and me. Speaking of
…
”

Sh
e
took back her hand and stood
.
“I'm going to clean these up.
”
She picked up her plate and went to take
his
.”

“Hey, I'm not done with that.
”
He grabbed her wrist.
“And I'm not done with
you,
young lady. I want an answer. Throw me a bone here, Renee. At
least tell me you'll move in.”

“I can't do that
.
”
She sat down.
“
Cleave
…
I want to be with you. But something is holding me back. I don't know what it is, but I can't make any decisions until I w
ork out some stuff in my head.”

“That's ridiculous
.
”
He
shoved
his chair back
and stood, towering over her
.
Muscles around his j
aw ticked. “I'm through waiting
.
I've been very patient, but I'm done now. It's time to shit or get off the pot.
I’m not getting any younger
. I'm ready to make this commitment to you.
To commit to whatever you will—
living
together, marriage, whichever.”

Blood pounded in her ears. She had to be honest with him. “I'm not the one who wants it
. You are. Only you. We've just known each other a few months.
”

He looked
as if
he'd been slapped.
“How do you feel about me?”

“I
…
I like you. You're the most generous man I've ever met. I love that you find me so attractive and that you treat me so well. But I'm not in love with you. Not yet. It could still
happen, but I can't force it.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?”

Much as she’d tried, she hadn’t yet gotten the zing with
him
she’d experienced with Joe.
“Is it too much to ask for you to
slow down and let me catch up?”

“I'll try
. Al
l I can tell you is, I'll try.”

On the drive home she wrestled with her conscience. It wasn’t fair to Cleave to keep seeing him when chances were diminishing day by day that she’d ever fall for him. But somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped her feelings for Joe would fade away and be replaced by love for Cleave.

Joe. She’d given in to calling him twice in the last week. She had to quit it. But hearing his voice, even if it was just a recording from his phone, was comforting. Hell, she’d become intimate with his voicemail but it had to stop.

Once more, that’s all.

She
dialed the number
.
“Please call me, Joe. Please give me another chance. I know you won't, but if there's anything in your heart left for me, please call me.
”

She drove the rest of the way in silence, reliving her conversation with
Cleave
in her head, over and over, her windshield wipers providing the rhythm for her thoughts.

Falling into bed
a little while later
,
her
mind
strayed back to
Joe. What was he doing now? Did he have a new girlfriend? She doubted it. It had taken him so long to recover after his fiancée, she knew he was a man who would take his time getting over her.

Her chest ached, knowing she’d caused him pain. She just prayed his wasn’t near as awful as her suffering. She didn’t think she’d ever get over him.

* * * * *

Dr. Hillard's office was modestly furnished, with two slip-covered love seats and several inexpensive lamps. Renee filled out an information sheet with her address and insurance information. After
a five-minute wait
, a nurse called her name
and led
her to a private room.

When the doctor came in a few minutes later, Renee was surprised that she appeared not much older than
her
. Her thick black hair was streaked with a few gray strands and hung halfway down her back.

She smiled warmly
as she sat on a rolling stool.
“So you have a lump, huh?
”

“That's what they tell me.”

Dr. Hillard
studied the chart
.
“You can't feel it?”

“My breasts feel like bag
s
of peanuts to me. I can't dist
inguish it from anything else.”

“Okay. Let's take a look.
”
She
opened the door
.
“Polly, can you get her ready?
”
Then she left the exam room.

The nurse, an older woman with a pronounced limp entered.
“I'll need you to t
ake off your top and bra, hon.”

Renee did as she was told,
then slipped
a paper shawl around her. She sat on the exam table When the doctor returned, she exa
mined both breasts
.

“Let's lie back now,
”
Dr. Hillard instructed. Again, she examined Renee, concentrating her efforts on the area in question.
“You do have very lumpy breasts. But I don't feel an
ything particularly suspicious.” She closed the gown then gave
her
a hand up. “
I'd like to get an MRI. They show nearly everything. If your insurance will pay for it, it could eliminate the need for a core biopsy. If they won't pay, we say 'bite me,' and then we do the biopsy. Now, how f
reaked out about this are you?”

Renee studied her hands.
“I cry about it a lot
. I try to push it from my mind, but it seems to creep back
into my head
. I'll feel better when you can
tell me you’
re a hundred percent sure I don't have breast ca
ncer. That's when I'll relax.”

The doctor pulled a prescription pad from her pocket.
“Tell you what. I'm going to give you something for the
anxiety. Are you a cheap date?”

She grinned
.
“Yeah. Two glasses of wine and I’m drunk.”

The doctor handed her the script. “Okay. Break the pills
in half.
Get it filled as soon as you leave here. Call my office when you know if the MRI will be
covered. We'll go from there.”

Renee filled her prescription
then headed home, steeling herself for a fight with the insurance company. When she called, she was pleasantly surprised when they informed her the MRI would be covered. She made the appointment for the following week, silently thanking the doctor for suggesting the anti-anxiety medication. Then she did something she hadn't done in years. She called her sister and made plans to meet
her
for lunch on Sunday.
Hopefully it wasn’t too late to fix
that
relationship.