The Pull of Gravity

by Brett Battles

  They ate lunch on the couch watching TV, leftover pasta from when Larry had been there. Mariella said nothing the entire time, and ate very little. Isabel, who had begun to feel a little better, ate about half her helping before she noticed her cousin was still not herself.

  “What is it?” Isabel asked.

  “I told you, it’s nothing,” Mariella said.

  “I know you did, but I don’t believe you.”

  Mariella gave her a short, humorless laugh. “Sorry,” she said. “I should try harder to hide my feelings.”

  “You don’t have to hide anything from me.” Isabel put a hand on Mariella’s back. “You’re like my big sister. If something’s bothering you, let me help.”

  Mariella looked down at the floor. “It’s not my problem.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  When Mariella looked up again, there were tears in her eyes. “It’s you,” she said. “I’m worried about you.”

  Isabel wasn’t sure how to react, so she did the only thing that made sense to her. She reached out and pulled Mariella into her arms. “I’m fine. Today I feel much better.”

  But Mariella didn’t stop crying. After a while a few tears began to form in the corners of Isabel’s eyes, too. She continued to hug her cousin and tell her everything was all right. “I was thinking about it too much,” she said. “He’s just not ready yet, that’s all. I just have to be patient.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Mariella finally said.

  Isabel pulled back. “What do you mean?”

  Mariella’s face was a mess of tears and mascara. She sniffed a couple of times before looking at Isabel.

  “Last night I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “All night, all I could do was think about you. I began to wonder if it was right for me to lie to you and get your hopes up.”

  “Lie to me?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What did you lie about?”

  “Please, forget it. I should never have said anything.” Mariella buried her face in her hands.

  Isabel grabbed one of Mariella’s wrists and pulled it away from her cousin’s face. “Tell me what you lied about,” she demanded.

  Mariella said nothing at first, then, “I told you yesterday I thought he would ask you to marry him next time he comes.” She paused, looking again at Isabel. “That was the lie.”

  “You mean you don’t think he will ask next time?”

  “I mean he won’t ask you ever.”

  Isabel didn’t breathe for several seconds. What Mariella had said was the one thing Isabel had never let herself think.

  “You’re wrong,” Isabel said. She stood up. “You’re wrong. He will marry me. I know he will. He loves me.”

  Mariella glanced around the room. “When he got you this apartment, what was the deal he made with the landlord?”

  Isabel hesitated before answering. “He paid for six months when I moved in, and paid for six more months when he was here last week.”

  “That’s still another eight months,” Mariella said. “Is he going to wait until that’s over before he brings you to California? Or is he going to pay your landlord another six months when the time comes again? Or even a year?”

  When he had paid for the additional six months before he left this last time, it had bothered Isabel but she had said nothing. Business was going well for Larry. She told herself it wouldn’t matter to him if she moved out of the apartment early and left for the U.S. But hearing Mariella say it, she began to doubt again.

  “You’re a good girl, Isabel,” Mariella said. “And you’ve been so good to Larry. But I’ve been here a lot longer than you and have seen much more. I don’t want you to get hurt. Not like I was.”

  Again Mariella’s eyes moved away from Isabel’s face to focus on the floor for a moment before drifting back up.

  “Like you?” Isabel asked.

  “Look at me,” Mariella said. “Then look at yourself. I have an apartment that is paid for by a man I met in a bar. Once or twice a year he comes to visit me, but we never talk about getting married.” She took hold of Isabel’s hands, and looked her cousin directly in the eyes. “The only difference between you and me is that I know it will never happen.”

  Isabel tried to pull her hands away. “No!” she yelled. “No. It’s not true.”

  But Mariella would not let go. “You’re just like me,” she said.

  Isabel tried to stand up, but Mariella gently nudged her back down. After a few moments, the struggling was replaced by tears. Now it was Mariella’s turn to comfort Isabel. She held her in her arms, saying nothing, gently stroking Isabel’s hair until the sobs ran their course.

  • • •

  Isabel didn’t come to work that night. Instead she stayed home alone. Mariella had wanted to stay, but Isabel told her there were things she had to think about, and the only way to do that was alone. Reluctantly, her cousin had left, promising to return the next morning.

  There was no getting around it—Mariella had been right. At least that’s how Isabel perceived it at the time. Isabel had become Larry’s Philippine girl. She couldn’t help wondering how many other women he had.

  If she had not been in such a hyperemotional state, she would have seen the truth, that there was no one else but her. But Mariella had done such a thorough job on her mind that she thought she was thinking clearly. Even years later, as she recounted her portion of the tale to me, she couldn’t understand how she’d been so completely manipulated.

  The way she saw it at the time was that she had only two choices: accept the situation for what it was and give in completely—become like Mariella, in other words—or break it off. As much as she still loved her cousin, she knew she couldn’t live Mariella’s life, never having hope, never expecting more.

  By the time she fell asleep, her mind was made up. She would call Larry and tell him she couldn’t do this any longer. It was the right thing to do, she thought.

  Only it wasn’t. Not even close.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “I’m calling to say goodbye,” Isabel said into her cell phone.

  It was morning in Angeles, but, because of the international dateline, still evening the day before in California.

  Larry had to have been caught completely off guard, not only by what she had said, but also because he was the one who usually called her.

  “Hold on,” he said. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  She had to speak her words carefully so he wouldn’t hear the stutter in her voice as she fought for air. “I can’t be your girlfriend anymore.” She took a breath, then added, “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

  “Nothing happened. I don’t—” She stopped herself. “I don’t love you anymore,” she said, the water welling in her eyes belying her words.

  “I know that’s not true,” he said, his voice calm. “Tell me what’s wrong and we can figure it out together, okay?”

  “There’s nothing to figure out, nothing to do. It’s over, di ba?”

  “I don’t accept that.”

  “I’ll move out of the apartment before the end of the month. I’ll try to get your money back.”

  “Why would you move out?” he asked.

  “I don’t feel right taking your money if we are not together.”

  “You’d rather go back to living with a group of girls in crappy conditions?”

  She hesitated before answering him, knowing what she said would upset him more. “I’m moving back in with my cousin.”

  “Mariella?” Whatever trace of calm that had been in his voice was gone. “Dammit, Isabel. What’s she done to you?”

  “Nothing. It’s not her fault. She’s my friend.”

  “No, she’s not your friend.”

  “Please, I don’t want to talk about this,” Isabel said. “I need to go.”

  “Isabel, wait,” he said.

  She resisted the urge to disconnect the ca
ll.

  “I need you,” he said.

  “No, you don’t.” This time she didn’t wait for him to say anything else before she hung up.

  “Are you all right?” Mariella asked. She had been sitting on the couch watching Isabel pace while talking to Larry.

  “No,” Isabel said. “I want to call him back, tell him I was wrong.”

  Mariella got off the couch and quickly moved to her cousin’s side. “I know it’s hard,” she said, as she gently placed a hand on Isabel’s arm. “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Isabel looked down at the phone. It would be so easy to just redial Larry’s number. Her thumb was subconsciously moving in the direction of the call button when suddenly her phone rang. Larry’s name was on the display.

  “Is it him?” Mariella said.

  Isabel nodded.

  “Don’t answer it,” her cousin told her.

  But Isabel accepted the call anyway and put the phone up to her ear.

  “Isabel?” Larry said.

  She said nothing.

  “Isabel, are you there?”

  Before she could answer him, Mariella grabbed the phone and pushed disconnect. Once she was sure he was no longer on the line, she turned the phone off.

  “It’s better this way,” Mariella said. “If you want to end it, then end it. This way he’ll know it’s over.” Instead of giving the phone back to Isabel, she put it in her purse. “You don’t really need this right now. I’ll give it back to you in a few days, okay? Safer for you.”

  “I didn’t even give him a chance,” Isabel said.

  “Aren’t you listening to me? You cannot talk to him. You must let it go, di ba? There is no other way.”

  Isabel took a step toward Mariella, reaching for her cousin’s bag. Mariella moved it out of reach.

  “Give it to me,” Isabel said, grabbing for it again, but missing.

  “No.”

  “I made a mistake.”

  “You didn’t,” Mariella said.

  “Give me my phone.”

  She tried to push Mariella out of the way to get to the purse, but Mariella anticipated this and moved to the side, the bag in her hand behind her back. As Isabel regained her balance, Mariella reached out and slapped her cousin across the face. Isabel froze in surprise, her cheek stinging from the blow.

  “Stop it,” Mariella said. “You did the right thing. Talking to him now won’t help anything.”

  “But—” Isabel began.

  “No,” Mariella cut her off. “It’s over. Better for you. You’ll see.”

  Isabel slumped onto the couch, defeated.

  That had to have been a moment of triumph for Mariella. In her mind, she must have thought she’d won. In a matter of minutes, her cousin had gone from being one of the lucky ones to just another bar girl. No chance she would overshadow Mariella now.

  • • •

  I don’t know what was going on with Larry back in San Francisco after he talked to Isabel, but I could make a pretty good guess. He must have tried calling her phone several times over the next couple of hours, only to be frustrated when she failed to answer.

  He must have been going crazy. He loved Isabel as much as anyone could love another person. He had undoubtedly wanted to get his business squared away before asking her to marry him. For Larry it had probably been a matter of respect, waiting to show her that he could provide a good future. His error was in assuming she understood this. A girl back in the States might have, but Isabel had never left the Philippines. Any future he could have given her would have been better than what she had. Most of the guys who visited Angeles would have realized that, but Larry wasn’t like the others. He didn’t mingle with them, didn’t have experience with any of the other girls. The only person he really talked to was me, and God knows we never discussed it. Maybe I should have brought it up.

  The bottom line was that he was thousands of miles away with no idea that his unstated intentions about their future was the problem. All he knew then was that something was wrong, and Mariella was behind it.

  At some point the idea came to him that he had to fly back to Angeles as quickly as possible. Knowing Larry like I had, I don’t think he even considered any other option. So a mere three days after he had returned home from the Philippines, he was on a plane heading west over the Pacific Ocean again.

  • • •

  In the evening, after her call to Larry, Isabel was back at work. It was my first night back since returning from Australia. I was in the office going over the notes about what had transpired while I was gone, and I didn’t see her come in. When I stepped into the bar an hour later and noticed her serving drinks to one of the customers, it didn’t take long to know that something was wrong. She was pale, listless and unsmiling.

  I asked her what was the matter, but all she told me was she wasn’t feeling well. I told her she should go home and get some sleep. She said she’d be fine, but I insisted. She finally relented and left.

  I wasn’t surprised the next night when she didn’t show up. In fact, I was happy she was staying home to get well. What did surprise me, though, was that she didn’t call to tell me she wasn’t coming in, something she usually did. I had no way of knowing Mariella had her cell phone.

  It turned out to be a pretty busy night. A group of about twenty guys from Germany had come to town, and it looked like another typical evening at The Lounge. After they’d been drinking for a while, a couple of them joined the girls on stage and started to do the awkward, male version of the striptease. All their friends were laughing and whistling and calling out in English, “More, more!”

  Even as I knew I couldn’t let it go on for too long, I couldn’t help laughing a little. The last thing I wanted was a stage full of naked German men—definitely not what our usual crowd expected to see when they came in. I sent over a round of beers on the house, which, as I’d hoped, got the two temporary dancers back to their seats.

  Around this time, the front door opened. I turned to see who it was, hoping that it wasn’t more of the Germans.

  It was Larry.

  He scanned the room, a worried look on his face. When he saw me, he walked over quickly.

  “I thought you already went back to the States,” I said, surprised to see him.

  “Is Isabel here?” he asked. No “hello,” no “how are you doing.”

  “She didn’t come in,” I said. “I think she’s not feeling well.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” He turned to leave.

  “Larry,” I said, stopping him. “Is something wrong?”

  His only answer was a halfhearted smile, then he turned and left.

  I never saw him alive again.

  • • •

  Isabel was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, emotionally drained as Mariella sat beside her, leafing through a magazine. They had talked earlier, most of the day actually, but Isabel couldn’t talk anymore. What she really wanted to do was fall asleep, but her eyes wouldn’t close, and her mind wouldn’t turn off.

  When they heard the knock on the front door, Mariella said she would see who it was. Isabel barely even registered it.

  A moment later, Isabel heard a muffled male voice in the other room. “Where is she?”

  By the time she realized it was Larry, he was standing at the bedroom doorway, Mariella a few steps behind him.

  Isabel sat up. “What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised she was even able to speak.

  He approached the bed cautiously. “Are you okay? Doc said you were sick.”

  “You went to The Lounge?” she asked.

  “I thought that’s where I’d find you.”

  “What are you doing here?” she repeated, unable to believe he was actually there.

  He sat on the bed beside her, close but not touching her. “After you called,” he said, “I didn’t know what to think. Then when you didn’t answer when I called back, I had no other choice. I had to come see you.”

 
When he mentioned his unanswered calls, Isabel shot a glance to where Mariella stood in the doorway, listening. There was no expression on her cousin’s face, but her eyes were ablaze with anger.

  Larry took one of Isabel’s hands in his. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

  Again, she looked over at Mariella, but this time Larry turned his head and followed her gaze. When he saw Mariella, he dropped Isabel’s hand and stood up.

  “What are you still doing here?” he asked.

  He walked toward her, stopping when he was only a few feet away, but Mariella stood her ground.

  “Whatever’s going on here is your fault,” Larry continued. “I don’t doubt that for a second. You’re not needed here anymore. Not ever.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that,” she said. “You’re the one who needs to leave. Isabel doesn’t want you anymore.”

  Larry looked over his shoulder at Isabel. “Do you really want me to leave?”

  In a tremulous voice, barely audible, she said, “No.”

  Mariella screamed in frustration. “You’re confusing her!” she yelled. “You shouldn’t have come back. Go home! Go back to America! Play with someone else’s life!”

  “I’m not playing with anyone’s life,” he said.

  “You’re lying! Every day you play with Isabel’s life. Every day! What do you promise her? An apartment? That’s it! What kind of future is that? Leave her alone. She doesn’t need you!”

  Larry didn’t say anything right away. When he did, there was bewilderment in his voice. “Is that what this is all about?” He turned and looked at Isabel. “You’re worried about a future? Our future?”

  She looked away from him, unable to respond, but it was all the answer he needed.

  “All this time, you’ve been waiting for me to ask you to marry me,” he said, the truth finally dawning on him.

  “No,” Isabel managed. “Not all this time. But lately, I’ve wondered.”

  “It’s what she deserves,” Mariella spat. “You couldn’t give it to her. You’re just like all the others here. You only want boom-boom and pretend love. That’s enough for you, but you made her think you wanted more. You’re not a good man. Get out. Leave her alone.”