The Pull of Gravity

by Brett Battles

  “You’d both have been better off if you hadn’t met,” I said.

  “Back then I didn’t think that,” she said.

  “And now?”

  She was quiet for a long time.

  • • •

  They stopped in at The Lounge one more time before Larry returned to the States. I was pretty busy, but we were able to spend a little time together.

  As far as Mariella went, they were able to avoid her the rest of the trip. Isabel knew that was only temporary, and the evening after she once again put Larry on a plane for California, she returned home knowing her cousin would be there waiting for her.

  When she walked in, the living room was empty, but the lights were on so she knew Mariella was around somewhere. She thought maybe if she hurried to her room, she could avoid a confrontation. But as she started up the stairs, Mariella came out of the master bedroom.

  “Is he gone already?” Mariella asked as soon as she saw Isabel.

  Isabel stopped only three steps up. “He left this afternoon.”

  “So soon. This was a short trip, wasn’t it?”

  Isabel shrugged.

  “And after postponing it for a week,” Mariella said. “Was there something wrong?”

  “Nothing wrong,” Isabel said. Nothing except this was probably the worst time she and Larry had spent together. It wasn’t his fault, though. She knew it had been all her own.

  “He seems like a nice guy,” Mariella said in a tone that implied she didn’t quite believe that.

  “He is,” Isabel said.

  Mariella frowned for a moment. “I think maybe you can do better.”

  “What do you mean?” Isabel asked. “Larry’s a good person. He’s better than any of the other guys out there. Why would you say that?”

  “Okay. If you don’t want to hear what I have to say, that’s your choice.” Mariella started to walk toward the kitchen.

  Isabel was tempted to scream, “You’re right! I don’t want to hear what you have to say!” Instead she said, “Why do you think I could do better?”

  “It’s okay. It’s none of my business.”

  And no matter how much Isabel asked, Mariella refused to talk about it anymore. So instead of going to bed thinking about how much she missed Larry and couldn’t wait until he came back, she went to bed trying to figure out what Mariella meant, thinking she’d disappointed her cousin again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Three days before Larry had arrived in town on that less-than-successful trip, Cathy left me a note that said she was going to be gone for several days, and I shouldn’t worry about her.

  She hadn’t prepared me for this at all. There had been no warning, no hints that she needed to get away. Nothing. I’d gone out to run a few errands, and when I came back, the house was empty. Only her note remained.

  It didn’t say where she had gone or who she might be with, just “don’t worry about me,” which I promptly ignored. I must have read it a hundred times before I finally put it down, hoping each time I might find something new, something I might have missed. But what I was looking for wasn’t there. The only thing I could perceive as remotely positive was that her note implied she would be back, so apparently she hadn’t moved out.

  I guess if she had moved out it would have been less of a surprise to me. Things had continued to deteriorate between us, and I had done my best to ignore the situation altogether. I knew what she wanted, but it was the only thing I couldn’t give her. She wanted to know her future was secure. She wanted me to marry her.

  She never really came out and said it, but I could tell in the way she talked about the girls who’d married their honey kos and left Angeles. I could tell in the way she sometimes stared off into nothing, her eyes blank but moist. I could tell in the way she talked about the future, hopeful one moment, pessimistic the next. She wanted to know what was around the corner, what her life would be like in a year, five, ten. From where I stood, I couldn’t even see next month.

  But if she did come back, it meant I still had a chance to make things right. Maybe I didn’t love her as much as I needed to, but I loved her more than I had ever loved anyone else.

  So I began making plans for her return. I’d take some time off, take her back to Boracay, or maybe splurge and take her to Hong Kong. If I really needed to, I’d pop the question. It seemed like a lot of things were changing around me, and I needed one thing to remain stable. I needed Cathy to be there.

  • • •

  “Several days” stretched into a week. Larry was still in town, but I barely gave him a second thought. I was too busy trying to juggle my work schedule so I could get away when Cathy returned, making travel plans, and, more than anything else, worrying about her, about us, about me.

  Every day I tried Cathy’s cell phone, but my calls would immediately go to her voicemail. After the fourth day, I just hung up and said nothing. I text messaged her, too, but neither method brought any results.

  I slept less, ate less, drank less. About the only thing I did more of was work. I’d get to The Lounge in the middle of the afternoon when either Tommy or Dandy Doug was working, and stay until I shut the place down at four in the morning.

  On Cathy’s tenth day away, Robbie Bainbridge came back to town. It had been over half a year since his last visit. He’d told me over the phone that he’d been sick, but until he walked through the door that day, I hadn’t known how bad it was.

  He’d lost a lot of weight, and looked older somehow. I even noticed a slight tremor in his hands.

  “It’s the medicine,” he told me later. “They tell me not to drink anything with it, but fuck ’em. A drink now and then’s not going to kill me.”

  It was cancer that had gotten into him. He never told me what kind it was, but he implied if he’d been smart enough to get it checked early on, it could have been taken care of, no problem.

  “They’d managed to get most of it out,” he told me as we sat at the bar sharing a couple of beers. “And, with any luck, in a couple months I’ll be free of the bastard.”

  “Cheers to that,” I said raising my San Miguel.

  “Cheers, mate,” he said.

  He drank almost half his bottle in one swig. I barely sipped mine, knowing it would be the only drink I’d have all night.

  It looked like he was about to say something else when we were suddenly surrounded by the girls who’d just come on shift. Like the others who’d been there when Robbie arrived, the new group hugged and kissed him and told him how great he looked and asked why he’d been away for so long.

  Before long, they’d talked him into giving them all a drink on the house. Tessa even ran over and gave the bell a ring.

  I put a hand on Robbie’s shoulder and said, “Just because you’re buying a round doesn’t mean I’m going to put your name on the wall.”

  He laughed. “No worries.”

  It was almost like the first time I’d walked into The Lounge—Robbie holding court in a room full of laughing, semi-drunk women. Everyone happy and dancing and having a good time. Only the smile on Robbie’s face wasn’t as steady as it once had been, and not everyone, especially me, was happy.

  After the girls had moved on and we were alone again, Robbie said, “This thing’s been making me do a lot of thinking.”

  “I can imagine,” I said.

  He waved his arm around, taking in the whole room. “I can’t pay attention to this place. At least not like I used to.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I thought I knew what he meant. “You going to sell The Lounge?”

  “Thinking about it.” He looked at me and must have seen the fear in my eyes. “I’ve gotta do something. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

  I smiled and said thanks, but it wasn’t taking care of I needed. If he sold the place, that meant change. And change meant chaos.

  It was less chaos I needed, not more.

  My cozy little world seemed on the verge of spinning out of
control.

  • • •

  What seemed like a disaster in the making one day, looked like an opportunity the next. Just before I’d fallen asleep, an idea had come to me, something that would not only help Robbie with his problem but would help me with mine. I was so anxious to talk to him about it the next evening that I woke up nearly every hour until it was time to get out of bed.

  I was at The Lounge before three that afternoon, but there was no sign of Robbie. Not surprising, since he’d stayed pretty late the night before. I busied myself making sure everything was ready for another kick-ass evening, and spent a little time shooting the breeze with Dandy Doug.

  But when eight o’clock rolled around and there was still no sign of Robbie, I began to worry that something was wrong. Forty-five minutes later I decided to give him a call. As usual, he was staying in room 65 at the Las Palmas Hotel. The receptionist put me through and on the third ring he picked up.

  “Think I’m going to stay in tonight,” he told me after I asked if everything was all right. “This crap knocks me out sometimes. But I’ll be there tomorrow. No worries.”

  I wanted to tell him there was something I wanted to discuss, but I held back. It was more of an in-person conversation, and since Cathy still hadn’t shown up, there was no reason it couldn’t wait until the next day.

  “Just take care of yourself,” I said. “Come in when you’re ready. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Didn’t know we did delivery, too.”

  “Not exactly what I meant,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I know. I’m okay. Just need some sleep, I think.”

  “See you tomorrow, then,” I said.

  “Cheers.”

  • • •

  But the next night, Robbie was still too tired to come in. I was afraid he might end up going back to Australia without us getting together again, so this time I broached the idea of coming over to have a quick chat. He said he hadn’t eaten yet, so how about I meet him poolside for dinner?

  I got Dandy Doug to stay late that night, and headed over to the Las Palmas to meet with the boss. I wasn’t sure how he was going to react to my idea, but I hoped it worked into his plan.

  I found him sitting at a table under the awning only a few feet from the bar. He already had a glass of wine sitting in front of him.

  “Haven’t ordered yet,” he said as I sat down. “Waiting for you.”

  My appetite still hadn’t come back, so more out of habit than anything else, I ordered the steak and potatoes, and a bottle of water. Robbie ordered fish and vegetables.

  “So what’s on your mind?” he asked while we waited for the food to arrive.

  “I have a proposal for you. But I have a question first.”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding for me to continue.

  “I know you said you’re thinking about selling The Lounge, but I’m wondering if you’re planning on getting rid of the whole thing or just a part of it?”

  “You thinking about buying?”

  “Depends on your answer to the question.”

  He smiled. “I guess I’d be open to either option.”

  I took a deep breath and made my pitch. “What if I buy in and become your partner? I’m here all the time so you won’t have to come back at all if you don’t want to. It’ll be just like it is now, only instead of me watching over your investment, I’ll be watching over mine, too.”

  He sat back in his chair. “Why don’t you buy the whole thing from me?”

  I wanted to say, “Because I don’t really want to buy any of it.” The only reason I was proposing a partnership was that I had this thought, this idea, that if I became one of the owners and showed Cathy I was doing something to stay close to her, she’d see that I cared, that I had a plan for our future. I was even thinking of cutting her in on a portion of my share. What I said to Robbie was a lesser truth. “I don’t think I can afford to buy the whole bar.”

  When he quoted me the price he would have asked to sell it outright, I knew I was right. I couldn’t afford it. But the feeling I had that Robbie really didn’t want to let go of The Lounge proved to be correct. He said owning it wasn’t about the tiny profit he was making. In Australian dollars, he’d never be able to live off what I deposited for him every month. It was the sense of freedom it gave him. It was that feeling he got every time he walked into The Lounge and the girls mobbed him. It was how it made him think he was bigger than he really was for a little while.

  By the time we finished negotiating, I was the new one-quarter owner of The Lounge on Fields Avenue. Robbie said he’d have his Angeles lawyer draw up the contract, and once everything was signed, I could send him the money.

  “But we’ll still consider you my new partner starting now,” Robbie said. “I’ll come in and tell the girls myself tomorrow.”

  • • •

  In what had to be a record in the Philippines, where time is definitely relative and delay is the norm, the contract was hand-delivered to me at The Lounge two days later at four p.m. It was the same day Isabel and Larry came back in, his trip almost over, but that wasn’t until well after dark.

  Robbie was there that afternoon. He was feeling better, so he’d delayed his return home for a few days. It turned out to be a good move, as it ended up being his last trip outside of Australia. The surgery didn’t get everything, and when the cancer came back, it came back everywhere. He held on for several more months, but from what I was told, it was a very painful time.

  “Ernesto told me he’d be able to get that done in a hurry,” Robbie said. “So I wanted to be here when you got it.”

  It came in a big white envelope. I opened it and pulled out the contract. There were two copies, one for Robbie and one for me. It was thinner than I had expected, maybe a dozen pages in all.

  “You might want a lawyer to take a look at it,” Robbie suggested.

  I leafed through it. For the most part, it looked like the important information was on the first couple of pages.

  I looked Robbie in the eyes. “Did you screw me anywhere in here?”

  He shook his head. “No, mate. I didn’t screw. Ernesto wanted me to, but it’s not my style.”

  I spent twenty minutes reading it over, and couldn’t find anything that seemed underhanded. Analyn was working the bar, so I called her over.

  “Can you get me a pen?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said.

  A moment later she returned with a ballpoint. I had noticed while reading the contract that Robbie had already signed everywhere he needed to, so now it was my turn. I signed in all the correct places on both copies.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing a copy to Robbie. “I’ll transfer the money tomorrow.”

  “No hurry,” he said as he folded his copy and slid it into his pocket. “When you get the time.” He held up his bottle of San Miguel. “Cheers, partner.”

  I raised my bottle of water. “Cheers.”

  • • •

  When Larry and Isabel came in that night, I shared my news with them. Larry bought me a beer that I ended up leaving on the counter untouched. There were congratulations and smiles and slaps on the back. I pretended to be happy and that it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I pretended it was what I really wanted.

  We were all in our own worlds that night. I didn’t notice that Isabel was worried about anything, or that Larry was trying to do everything he could to make her happy. And they didn’t notice I was lying, to them and to everyone.

  There was one thing Larry did notice, though.

  “Where’s Cathy?” he asked.

  “She had to go away for a couple of days,” I said. It had become my standard answer.

  “Is she coming back soon?”

  “Should be any day now.”

  “Tell her I’m sorry I missed her,” he said.

  “I will,” I told him, but there was a part of me beginning to wonder if I would ever get the chance.

  CHAPT
ER TWENTY-ONE

  Larry left on a Tuesday, and Robbie two days later on Thursday. On that Saturday, a full two weeks since I’d last seen her, Cathy came home.

  The night before I’d ended up doing a double shift, covering for Tommy in the afternoon and working my own shift that evening. It turned out to be a busy night, so I hadn’t gone to bed until well after six a.m. on Saturday. I was dead asleep when noise from inside the house woke me.

  It took me a moment before I realized someone was running the water in the kitchen. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It wasn’t even eleven yet. My first thought was that it was my part-time maid, Patricia. I was pissed, because I thought I’d made it clear she should never show up before two p.m.

  But as I pulled myself out of bed, and donned a pair of shorts, I remembered that Saturday was Patricia’s day off. So what the hell?

  I realized it was Cathy before I even got to the kitchen door. There was the hint of vanilla in the air—her personal scent, she’d called it. I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I’d missed it.

  So there was no surprise when I looked into the kitchen and saw her standing at the counter, only relief. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a yellow shirt I hadn’t seen before. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail that trailed down her back. On the counter was a pile of fresh vegetables. I had caught her in the act of chopping onions. It was almost like she had never been gone.

  “Hi,” I said, my voice still full of sleep.

  She jumped, nearly cutting herself, then looked at me. “Why you scare me like that?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “You should be more careful.” She held up the knife. “I could have hurt myself.” She resumed her chopping.

  I was still standing in the threshold, too afraid to approach her for fear that she would disappear. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Making lunch. What does it look like?” She looked me up and down. “What time you go to bed?”

  “I don’t know. Not long ago, I think.”

  “Then what are you doing up? Go back to sleep. This won’t be ready for a couple of hours.”