The Weight of Heaven

by Thrity Umrigar

  The trees in Central Park were bare by then, and Ellie felt their trajectory echoed the path of her relationship with this enigmatic man. They had met in the full lushness of high summer when the air was warm and rich, continued their passionate romance through the mad drunkenness of fall, when the trees themselves were a distraction. But now it was almost winter, and the bare bones of the universe were already exposed. It was put up or shut up time. She decided to shut up.

  “Why is my favorite Commie so quiet today?” Scott teased as the three of them walked around the lagoon. “Has she lost her talking points from Chairman Mao’s Red Book? Why the sudden silence?”

  She hit him on the shoulder. Hard. Three days with Scott, and already he felt like family. “Who can get a word in edgewise when the Benton brothers are together?” she said. “And when it’s so damn cold that you can see the words freeze as they come out of your mouth?”

  And then it happened. As soon as Ellie admitted to being cold, both men, one on either side of her, instinctively moved closer, and each put his arm around her. They all laughed, Frank and Scott in embarrassment, Ellie in delight. She suddenly felt like she was a little girl again, crawling into bed on cold Cleveland nights, snuggling under a comforter with Anne. To make sure they did not pull away from her, she threw one hand around each man’s waist, keeping them close to her. Frank turned and kissed her on the top of her head. “Thanks.” She smiled and he smiled back, and the scene froze, became one of those perfect, cherished moments where the brain takes a snapshot and files it for later use.

  It was a new feeling, tenderness. It scared her, made her doubly glad that they were leaving for Cleveland, where her big sister would turn her skeptical eye on her newest boyfriend and bring her to her senses. This relationship with Frank had already gone on too long, she decided. She had just started her doctoral degree, which was going to need all her attention. It was never advisable to start a new relationship while working on a Ph.D, everyone knew that. The future that she had envisioned held no room for a man whose real shape, the depth of his childhood hurt, was only now beginning to emerge. The day after the walk in Central Park she had woken early and decided to fix herself a bowl of cereal. But Scott was already in the kitchen, making them all French toast, and there was nothing to do but pull up a bar stool and offer to beat the eggs for him. And before she knew it, he was talking to her in that soft, deep voice of his, thanking her for making his brother so happy, telling her about Tina, Frank’s last girlfriend, and how unsuitable he’d thought she was for his baby brother. Tinsel Tina, he’d called her. And then he’d turned those blue eyes on her and said, “But you’re the real deal, Ellie. You’re the first person Frank has dated that I think is deserving of him.” She had tried to tease him, make light of his stout love for his brother, but Scott was having none of it. He remained serious. “I’m not kidding,” he said. “I know this boy can come across as if he’s all light and play, but he’s not.” And then he told her about the months that followed their dad’s leaving, the porchside vigil his brother kept, the promises and bargains with God that he’d overhear as he walked by Frank’s bedroom. Ellie shook her head, wanting and not wanting to know. But Scott’s words had their effect. The image of the twelve-year-old boy sitting on the front porch day after day weaved its way into her head.

  Which may be why as soon as they pulled out of the city, she picked a fight with Frank. He looked stunned at first, tried to ask her what was upsetting her so, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—tell him. Soon, his temper flared to meet hers, and they drove all the way to Pennsylvania in almost total silence. Once, he turned on the radio and struggled to find a station with good reception. As soon as he found it, she reached out and turned the radio off. He looked exasperated but didn’t say a word.

  They sort of made up after lunch—Frank even made a halfhearted attempt to put his hand up her skirt—but the damage was done. By the time they pulled into Cleveland at five in the evening, their only thought was to get away from each other. Ellie decided she no longer needed Anne’s help in breaking it off with Frank. She jumped out of the car and raced up to the red brick house as soon as they pulled up into Anne’s driveway.

  “He’s gorgeous,” Anne whispered to her as the sisters escaped to the kitchen to fix Frank a gin and tonic.

  “Yeah, and he’s vain and self-absorbed.”

  “Really?” Anne’s eyes were curious. “I thought he was really nice.”

  Ellie pulled a face. “He is. Most of the time. We just had a bad fight on the way here.”

  Anne reached up and pulled out a bottle of gin. She splashed a generous serving in each of their glasses. “What did you two fight about?”

  “Honestly, I don’t even know. Just one of those silly—” Her face suddenly crumpled. “I think I’m trying not to fall for him, Anne. I just can’t afford to be involved with someone right now. I have so much on my plate.”

  Anne added the ice to their glasses. “Good luck trying to resist him,” she said drolly.

  When they reentered the living room, Frank was standing at the window. “It looks like a pretty street,” he said politely. “A lot of kids, I see.”

  “It’s a very kid-friendly neighborhood,” Anne agreed, handing him his glass. “Do you like children, Frank?”

  Ellie gasped, shocked by her sister’s obviousness. But Frank didn’t seem particularly offended. “I adore them,” he said. He looked out of the window again. “Your street reminds me of the neighborhood I grew up in. We played outdoors day and night.” He turned to face Anne. “Do you and your husband want children?”

  What were they doing, engaged in a contest to see who could ask the more personal question? Ellie wondered. She looked from one to the other and realized that they were smiling at each other, oblivious to her presence. She didn’t even try to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “Speaking of your husband,” she said, “what time is he getting home? And what time are Dad and Mom coming over?”

  Anne looked at her as if she were a particularly irritating fly disturbing a successful picnic. “What?” she said vacantly. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Bob’s out of town. Last-minute business trip.” Ellie noticed darkly that she didn’t seem too perturbed. “And the folks will be here around seven.” She turned back to face Frank. “Which leaves us plenty of time for another drink.”

  “Sure.” Frank smiled at Anne. Ellie thought he looked devastatingly handsome, more beautiful than she’d ever seen him. Frank reached out and touched Anne’s hand lightly. “But let me help you fix the next round.” And with that her boyfriend and her sister left the room and walked toward the kitchen. It didn’t escape her notice that neither one had offered her a second drink.

  The evening only got worse. By the time her parents arrived, Anne was saying, “Jeez, Frank, you’ve almost convinced me about the virtues of a business management degree.” Ellie shook her head in disbelief. Anne was practically a Marxist, for crying out loud.

  Her mother immediately fell for Frank’s charm. And even Ellie had to admit that his manners were impeccable. He insisted on helping Anne in the kitchen. He spoke knowledgeably about the last presidential campaign with her father. And even though he was still flirting shamelessly with Anne, he did it in a manner that was not apparent to anyone but her. The conversation during dinner flowed surprisingly easily, unlike some of the stilted dinners when she’d brought previous boyfriends home. Halfway through the meal, Ellie had a sudden realization. He’s playing us all, she thought with awe. It’s like he’s conducting an orchestra—an attentive nod here, a smile there, a joke somewhere else. No wonder she’d spent the summer and autumn wild about this man. But this was ridiculous—Frank was absolutely promiscuous in how he flirted with her entire clan.

  Her parents, who always went to bed by ten o’clock, finally left to go home at eleven that night. She noticed how vigorously her dad shook hands with Frank on their way out.

  Anne made them a big breakfast the next morning and then packed t
hem sandwiches for lunch. As they stood around in her driveway, Anne reached up and kissed Frank on the cheek. “You come see us again, you hear?” she said. Frank beamed.

  They made desultory conversation the rest of the way home. When they got to Ellie’s street, she emitted a few long yawns. “Well, that was fun,” she lied. “But man, am I tired.”

  “You don’t want me to come up?” he said immediately.

  She turned to face him as he eased the car into a tight spot. “If you don’t mind, hon, I’ll have so much work to do. I’ll see you around?”

  “See you around?” he mimicked. But he didn’t argue with her decision.

  She felt a sense of letdown almost immediately after she let herself into her apartment and shut the door behind her. Also, now that Frank was gone, she couldn’t quite understand what he had done to justify her coldness toward him. She walked around the apartment puzzled by her behavior, not quite sure what had happened to sour her mood ever since they’d left New York for Ohio. She turned on the television and, after a few minutes, turned it off. She ate a cup of yogurt. She changed out of her clothes into a pair of sweats. She told herself the least she could do was keep her word and get some schoolwork done.

  At seven that evening, she called the Amazing Wok and ordered some Chinese food to be delivered. When the doorbell rang a half hour later, she went to the door, her credit card in hand. But instead of Lee, the seventeen-year-old delivery boy, it was Frank. Her heart lurched when she saw him, and it was all she could do to not fall into his arms. But his stern expression stopped her. Her heart lurched again, this time in fear. “What’s wrong?” she said, wondering if he’d come to break up with her.

  “Nothing,” he said, stepping into her living room without asking for permission. He turned to face her. “Everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that ever since we’ve met, you’ve been looking for a reason to leave me. I thought meeting my brother would convince you that I’m not—you know, a werewolf or something. But instead, it’s done just the opposite. I don’t know what Scotty said to you, but it’s scared you something fierce. And the least you can do is tell me why exactly you’re dumping me.”

  She stared at him, unable to speak. She had posed the same question to herself a few hours ago. “I’m scared,” she heard herself say. And then, to cover that up, “and you were flirting shamelessly with my sister. My married sister.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You know I can’t so much as look at another woman these days. And I was only being nice to your sister to impress you.”

  They were on safer ground now. “That’s bullshit,” she said. “You were just being a jerk, and what’s more—”

  “Ellie,” he said as he took a step toward her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Stop. Just stop. This is a diversion and you know it. Just tell me the truth—what have I done to deserve this?”

  “I don’t know,” she cried. She tried to move out of his hands, but he simply tightened his grip on her. “I don’t know,” she repeated.

  “Listen,” he said, shaking her slightly. “I wasn’t looking for this either, you know? I didn’t plan to fall in love with you. But I did. And Ellie, all I can think of is, any day that I’m not with you is a day I don’t want to face.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That I want to marry you. That I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “How can you be so sure? I mean, we’re young, Frank. What if—what if we meet someone else six months from now?”

  He eyed her sadly. “If you have to ask that question, then I guess that tells me something.”

  She looked away from the sadness she saw on his face. I never want to cause this man a day’s sorrow, she thought. She leaned forward and rested her head on his chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. I don’t know why I’m so scared. I’ve just never felt this close to anyone before, and it’s freaking me out. I guess I’m afraid of trusting it because I feel it will be snatched away. You know what I mean?”

  He stroked her hair. “El, listen to me. I know I’m not much of a bargain, right now. Heck, I don’t even know how long it will take me to get a job after I graduate. But I promise you this—I will always try to make you happy. And you will always be able to depend on me. I will never abandon you.”

  And he had been true to his word. They were married a year later, and Ellie could always rely on him. Always, until that fateful night of Benny’s death, when she needed him more than ever before, and he abandoned her to tend to his own ruined heart.

  BOOK THREE

  Summer 2005

  Ann Arbor, Michigan

  CHAPTER 16

  The world had never seemed crueler in its bounty and largesse than it did the day Frank sat fidgeting in his plane seat. Come on, move it, he thought, his hands gripping the seat rest as he leaned forward, as if the sheer momentum of his impatience could force the jet to fly faster. He remembered how, when Benny was little and rode in the back of a car, he used to dig his feet into the front passenger’s seat and push, believing that the action made the vehicle go faster. Benny. Just the sound of his son’s name on his lips made Frank’s heart tremble with love and fear. Nothing could possibly go wrong with Benny. Nothing. He’d never be able to survive it. Hell, he had almost passed out when Ben had broken his wrist at the playground a few years ago. Just the thought of his lovely boy being in any kind of pain brought out something in Frank that he had no name for. And also, a feeling that he did recognize—a sense of failure. After all, the boy was his to defend and protect. His job, his responsibility, his precious cargo. He was more than a father—any asshole could be a father, and didn’t he know all about that? He was a dad. And dads did anything to protect their families, paid any price. Which he was willing to do. Pay any price, with his life if need be. But please, dear God, Benny had to be okay. Had to be sitting up in bed and laughing, eating a quart of ice cream by the time he got home.

  Not home, he corrected himself. To the hospital. That’s where Benny was. They’re talking of moving him to the ICU as soon as he’s stable, Ellie had whispered during her first phone call from the emergency room. And Frank, they have a breathing tube up his nose. He had hated her then, for saying those words. Felt an anger that was new and old. New because he’d never felt anger toward Ellie before. Old because it was how he’d felt toward his mother in the months after his father had left. If you’d loved him more, he wouldn’t have left, he’d once spat at her, and was mortified and pleased to see his mother go pale in the face. Now he felt that kind of anger toward Ellie. For giving him this news on the phone at six o’clock on a quiet Bangkok evening. He’d been sitting in the hotel bar having a drink with Mr. Shipla, who was HerbalSolution’s man in Thailand. “Hi, hon,” he had answered brightly, pleasantly surprised that Ellie was calling him this early in the evening, forgetting for a second that it was not even dawn in Michigan. And then, listening to her quiet, worried voice, the gin that he’d been sipping suddenly burned in his stomach. And he felt that sharp, helpless anger toward Ellie, as if he wanted to cup her mouth with his open hand and shove the words back into her throat—The doctors say he’s very sick, Frank. They’re pretty sure its meningococcus. You better come home.

  Shipla had been wonderful. Worked the phones like a madman, trying to get him a flight out of Bangkok that same evening. I need to get out of here, he’d said as he paced the hotel room frantically, throwing whatever clothes he found into his large duffel bag. They’d finally put him on a flight to Paris, with Shipla promising to get him a connection to Detroit before Frank landed at Charles de Gaulle. “Call Pete,” he’d said to his Thai colleague as he got out of the car at Don Muang International Airport. “He’ll know what to do.” He had a seven-hour layover at de Gaulle, and Frank had never hated the airport as much as he did that day. He was offended by the martini bars, the bright, glitzy stores selling duty-free perfumes and chocolates, all
these people rushing around, looking bright and cheerful and active, while his son lay in a hospital bed chained by plastic tubes. He glanced at the digital clock on the wall every few minutes and caught himself swearing out loud. Get a grip, Frank, he chided himself, but there was nothing to get a grip on. His very core seemed to have collapsed, and in its place he felt a fear that was vaporous, a gas filling the cavity of his body. His hold on the world itself seemed to have loosened. He couldn’t believe it. While he sat at the airport in Paris, surrounded by all the riches and material things the world had to offer, his son was in an existential fight with—He shook his head. He wouldn’t let his brain conjure up the dreadful word.

  He fished for his cell phone, to call Ellie again. He’d already tried her six times since landing in Paris, but she wasn’t picking up, and after leaving her an irritable message the first time, he’d realized that she probably couldn’t use the phone in the hospital. He’d left her a second message, gentler this time, repeating his flight arrival information, telling her to hang in there, that he’d be home soon and they’d all be together again. This time, he dialed her number with no hope of her answering and felt a dip in his stomach when she said, “Hello?”