The Gravity of Us

by Brittainy Cherry

  “Every word?” I huffed, shocked. “So, you’re not sorry?”

  He stood taller and placed his hands in his jeans pockets. “Of course not. I only spoke the truth, and it’s a pity you’re just too emotional to fully accept it.”

  “Your definition of truth and my definition of truth are wildly different. Nothing you said held any truth to it. You were just stating your opinionated thoughts, which weren’t asked for.”

  “He treated you like—”

  “Just stop, Graham. No one asked you how he treated me. No one came to you for your thoughts. I just invited you to the event because I thought it would be nice to get you and Talon away from staring at the same four walls. My mistake.”

  “I didn’t ask for your pity.”

  “You’re right, Graham. Silly me for reaching out a hand to someone, for trying to build a relationship of some sort with the father of my niece.”

  “Well, that’s your fault. Your need to find life in everything and everyone is ridiculous and reveals your childish ways. You let your emotions drive everything you are, which in turn makes you weak.”

  My lips parted in disbelief, and I slightly shook my head. “Just because I’m not like you doesn’t mean I’m weak.”

  “Don’t do that,” he said softly.

  “Do what?”

  “Make me regret my comments.”

  “I didn’t make you do that.”

  “Then what did?”

  “I don’t know, maybe your conscience.”

  His dark eyes narrowed and as Talon started crying, I started in her direction. “Don’t,” he said. “You can go, Lucille. Your services are no longer needed.”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” I told him. “I can get her.”

  “No. Just go. It’s obvious that you want to leave, so leave.”

  Graham was a monster born from the ugliest of circumstances. He was painfully beautiful in such a dark, tragic way. His words urged me to go while his eyes begged me to stay.

  I walked past him, our shoulders brushing against each other, and I stood tall, staring into his dark eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Graham, so you can stop wasting your breath telling me to go.”

  Walking into Talon’s room, I partly expected Graham to try to stop me, but he never followed. “Hey, honey,” I said, reaching down to Talon and taking her in my arms. I knew it had only been about a week since I last saw her, but I swore she was bigger. Her blond hair was growing in, and her chocolate eyes smiled all on their own.

  She smiled more, too, even with her tiny cough and somewhat warm forehead. I laid her on the floor to change her diaper and quietly hummed to myself as she smiled brightly at me.

  I wondered if her father’s smile would look like hers if he ever took part in the expression. I wondered what his full lips would look like if they curved up.

  For about thirty minutes, Talon sat in her swing, and I read her books that sat on her small bookcase. She smiled and giggled, and she made the cutest sounds in the world as her tiny nose ran. Eventually, she fell asleep, and I didn’t have the nerve to try to move her back into her crib. She looked beyond comfortable as the chair swayed back and forth.

  “I’ll need to give her medicine in about an hour,” Graham said, breaking my stare away from the sleeping baby. I looked up at the doorway, where he stood with a plate in his hand. “I, um…” He shifted his feet around and avoided eye contact. “Mary prepared meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I figured you might be hungry, and that you wouldn’t want to eat with me, so…” He placed it on the dresser and nodded once. “There you go.”

  He hurt my mind with the way he twisted my opinions about the person he truly was compared to the person he presented himself to be. It was hard to keep up.

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” He still avoided eye contact, and I watched as his hands clenched and released repeatedly. “You asked me what I was feeling that night. Do you remember?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I share now?”

  “Of course.”

  When his head rose and our eyes locked, I swore he somehow squeezed my heart with his stare. When his lips moved, I drank in every word that spilled from his tongue. “I felt anger. I felt so much anger at him. He looked at you as if you were unworthy of his attention. He insulted your clothing all night long as he introduced you to people. He discussed you as if you’re not good enough, and for the love of God, he gawked at other women whenever you turned your back to him. He was insensitive, rude, and a complete idiot.”

  He dropped his head for a split second before bringing his eyes back to mine, his once cold stare now soft, gentle, caring as his lips continued to move. “He was a complete idiot for thinking you weren’t the most beautiful woman in that room. Yeah, I get it, Lucille—you’re a hippie weirdo and everything about you is loud and outlandish, but who is he to demand that you change? You’re a prize of a woman, rose petals in your hair and all, and he treated you as if you were nothing more than an unworthy slave.”

  “Graham—” I started, but he held a hand up.

  “I do apologize for hurting you, and for offending your boyfriend. That night just reminded me of a past I once lived, and I am ashamed that I let it get to me in such a way.”

  “I accept and appreciate your apology.”

  He gave me a half smile and turned to walk away, leaving me wondering what had happened in his past that upset him so much.

  New Year’s Eve

  “It hit the New York Times bestseller list, on today of all days. You know what that means, Graham?” Rebecca asked, spreading a new tablecloth on the dining room table.

  “It means another reason for Dad to get drunk and show off his house to people,” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

  She snickered and grabbed the fancy table runner, handed him one end, and took the other in her hands. “It won’t be that bad this year. He hasn’t been drinking as much lately.”

  Poor, sweet, naïve Rebecca, Graham thought to himself. She must’ve been blind to the whisky bottles that sat in his father’s desk drawer.

  As he helped her set the dinner table for the sixteen guests coming over in two hours, his eyes traveled across the room to her. She’d been living with him and his father for two years now, and he’d never known he could be so happy. When his father was angry, Graham had Rebecca’s smile to fall back on. She was the flash of light during the dark thunderstorms.

  Plus, every year, he had a birthday cake.

  She looked beautiful that night in her fancy New Year’s Eve dress. When she moved, the gold dress traveled with her, slightly dragging on the floor behind her. She wore high-heeled shoes that stretched out her small body, and still she seemed so tiny.

  “You look pretty,” Graham told her, making her look up and smile.

  “Thank you, Graham. You look quite handsome yourself.”

  He smiled back, because she always made him smile.

  “Do you think any kids are gonna come tonight?” he asked. He hated how the parties always had grown-ups and never any kids.

  “I don’t think so,” she told him. “But maybe tomorrow I can take you to the YMCA to hang out with some of your friends.”

  That made Graham happy. His father was always too busy to take him places, but Rebecca always made time.

  Rebecca glanced at the fancy watch on her hand, one his father had given her after one of their many fights. “Do you think he’s still working?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Should I interrupt?”

  He shook his head. “Nuh-huh.”

  Rebecca crossed the room, still glancing at her watch. “He’ll be mad if he’s late. I’ll go check.” She walked toward his office, and it was only seconds before Graham heard the shouting.

  “I’m working! This next book isn’t going to write itself, Rebecca!” Kent hollered right before Rebecca came hurrying back int
o the dining room, visibly shaken, her lips now twisted in a frown.

  She smiled at Graham and shrugged. “You know how he is on deadlines,” she said, making up excuses.

  Graham nodded. He knew better than most.

  His father was nothing more than a monster, especially when he was behind on his word count.

  Later that night, right before the guests began arriving, Kent changed into his brand-name suit just in time. “Why didn’t you get me earlier?” he shouted to Rebecca as she set up appetizers in the living room. “I would’ve been late if I hadn’t seen the time because I had to use the bathroom.”

  Graham turned his back to his father and rolled his eyes. He always had to turn his back to mock his father, otherwise his father’s backhand would mock him right back.

  “I’m sorry,” Rebecca replied, not wanting to dig any deeper and upset Kent. It was New Year’s Eve, one of her favorite holidays, and she refused to get into an argument.

  Kent huffed and puffed, straightening his tie. “You should change,” he told Rebecca. “Your outfit is too revealing, and the last thing I need is for my friends to think my wife is a floozy.” His voice was short, and he didn’t even look at Rebecca as he spat out the words.

  How did he miss it? Graham thought to himself. How did his father not notice how beautiful Rebecca looked?

  “I think you look beautiful,” Graham voiced.

  Kent cocked an eyebrow and looked over at his son. “No one asked you for your thoughts.”

  That night, Rebecca changed into something else, and she still looked beautiful to Graham.

  She still looked beautiful, but she smiled less, which simply broke his heart.

  During dinner, Graham’s role was to sit and be quiet. His father preferred when he blended in, almost as if he weren’t in the room. The grown-ups talked about how great Kent was, and Graham internally rolled his eyes repeatedly.

  “Rebecca, what a delicious meal,” a guest commented.

  Rebecca parted her lips to speak, but Kent spoke before her. “The chicken is a bit dry and the salad a little underdressed, but otherwise it’s edible,” he said with a laugh. “My wife isn’t known for her cooking skills, but boy does she try.”

  “She’s better than me,” a woman chimed in, winking at Rebecca to ease the sting of Kent’s passive aggressive comment. “I hardly make macaroni and cheese from a box.”

  The meal went on with a few more undercuts from Kent, but he stated his grievances about Rebecca with such humor that most people didn’t think he was serious.

  Graham knew better, even though he wished he didn’t.

  When she reached for more wine, Kent placed his hand on top of hers, halting her. “You know how wine affects you, my love.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Rebecca replied, retracting her hand and placing it in her lap. When a woman inquired about it, she grinned. “Oh, it just makes me a bit dizzy, that’s all. Kent’s just watching out for me.” Her smile became more fake as the night went on.

  After dinner was served, Graham was sent to his room for the remainder of the evening, where he spent time playing video games and watching the New Year’s Eve countdown on ABC. He watched the ball drop first in New York City, and then again when they replayed the clip to celebrate midnight in Milwaukee. He listened to the grown-ups cheering in the other room, and could faintly hear the sounds of the fireworks exploding over Lake Michigan.

  If Graham stood on his tiptoes, glanced out of his window to the left, and looked way up high, he could see some of the fireworks painting the sky.

  He used to watch them all the time with his mother, but that was so long ago that he sometimes wondered if it was a real memory or one he made up.

  As the people began to leave the house, Graham crawled into bed and pushed the palms of his hands over his ears. He was trying his best to drown out the sound of his father drunkenly yelling at Rebecca about all of her mistakes that night.

  It was amazing how Kent could hold in his anger until his company left.

  Then, it just spilled out of all of his pores.

  A toxic amount of anger.

  “I’m sorry,” Rebecca always ended up saying, even though she never had anything to apologize for.

  How could his father not see how lucky he was to have a woman like her? It hurt his heart knowing that Rebecca was hurting.

  When Graham’s door opened a few minutes later, he pretended to be sleeping, unsure if it was his father or not.

  “Graham? Are you awake?” Rebecca whispered, standing in his doorway.

  “Yes,” he whispered back.

  Rebecca walked into the room and wiped at her eyes, removing any evidence that Kent had caused her pain. She wandered over to his bed and combed his curly hair out of his face. “I just wanted to say Happy New Year. I wanted to stop by earlier, but I had to clean up a bit.”

  Graham’s eyes filled with tears as he stared at Rebecca’s eyes, which were heavy with exhaustion. She used to smile more.

  “What is it, Graham? What’s wrong?”

  “Please don’t…” he whispered. As the tears began to roll down his cheeks and his body began to shake in the bed, he tried his hardest to be a man, but it wasn’t working. His heart was still the heart of a young boy, a child who was terrified of what would happen if his father didn’t ease up on Rebecca.

  “Please don’t what, sweetie?”

  “Please don’t leave,” he said, his voice strained with fear. He sat up in his bed and placed his hands in Rebecca’s. “Please don’t leave, Rebecca. I know he’s mean and he makes you cry, but I promise you’re good. You’re good and he’s mean. He pushes people away, he does, and I can tell he makes you so sad. I know he tells you you’re not good enough, but you are. You are good enough, and you’re pretty, and your dress was beautiful, and your dinner was perfect, and please, please don’t leave us. Please don’t leave me.” He was now crying full-blown tears, his body shaking from the idea that Rebecca was two suitcases away from leaving him forever. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if she was gone. He couldn’t even begin to envision how dark his life would become if she walked away.

  When he was only with his father, he was so, so very much alone.

  But when Rebecca came, he remembered how it felt to be loved again.

  And he couldn’t lose that feeling.

  He couldn’t lose his light.

  “Graham.” Rebecca smiled, tears falling from her own eyes as she tried to wipe his away. “You’re okay, please, it’s okay. Calm down.”

  “You’re going to leave me, I know you are.” He sobbed, covering his face with his hands. That was what people did—they left. “He’s so mean to you. He’s too mean to you, and you’re going to leave.”

  “Graham Michael Russell, you stop it right now, okay?” she ordered, holding his hands tightly in hers. She placed his hands against her cheeks and nodded once. “I’m here, all right? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re not leaving?” he asked, hiccupping as he tried to catch his next breath.

  She shook her head. “No. I’m not leaving. You’re just overthinking everything. It’s late, and you need rest, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She laid him back down and tucked him in, kissing his forehead. As she stood up to leave, he called after her one last time. “And you’ll be here tomorrow?”

  “Of course, honey.”

  “Promise?” he whispered, his voice still a bit shaky, but Rebecca’s remained strong and sure.

  “Promise.”

  Lucy and I fell back into our normal routine. In the mornings, she’d show up with her yoga mat and do her morning meditation in the sunroom, and whenever she wasn’t working a special event, she’d come over to my house at night to help take care of Talon while I worked on my novel. We ate dinner together at the dining room table almost every night, but didn’t have much to talk about other than the cold that had found its way into both Talon’s body and
mine.

  “Drink it,” Lucy told me, bringing me a mug of tea.

  “I don’t drink tea.” I coughed into my hands. My desk was still scattered with tissues and cough syrup bottles.

  “You will drink this twice a day for three days, and it will make you one hundred percent better. I have no clue how you’re even functioning with that nasty cough. So, drink,” she ordered. I smelled the tea and made a face. She laughed. “Cinnamon, ginger, fresh lemons, hot red peppers, sugar, black pepper, and peppermint extract—plus a secret ingredient I can’t tell you about.”

  “It smells like hell.”

  She nodded with a small smirk. “A perfect drink for the devil himself.”

  For the following three days, I drank her tea. She pretty much had to force-feed it to me, but by day four, the coughing had disappeared.

  I was almost positive Lucy was a witch, but at least with her tea I was able to clear my head for the first time in weeks.

  The following Saturday evening, dinner sat on the table, and when I went to get Lucy to eat, I noticed her in the sunroom on her cell phone.

  Instead of interrupting, I waited patiently, until the roasted chicken was cold.

  Time passed quickly. She’d been standing in the sunroom on her cell phone for hours now. Her eyes were glued to the rain cascading down from the sky as she moved her lips, speaking to whoever was on the other end of the line.

  I wandered past the room every now and then, watching her move her hands to express herself, watching the tears fall from her eyes. They fell heavily, like the rain. After a while, she hung up and lowered herself to the floor, sat with her legs crossed, and stared out the window.

  When Talon was down, I stepped into the sunroom to check on her.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, concerned about how someone as bright as Lucy could appear so dark that afternoon. It was almost as if she blended into the gray clouds herself.

  “How much do I owe you?” she asked, not turning my way.

  “Owe me?”

  She turned around, sniffling, and allowed the tears to keep falling down her cheeks. “You bet me that my relationship would be over in a month tops, and you win. So, how much do I owe you? You win.”