Brett Battles - The Pull of Gravity

“My clothes?” Isabel said, confused. “I thought you threw them away.”

“Why would you think such a thing? I was only having them cleaned for you. See? They are all here.”

She set the bag on its side and unzipped it. Inside were all Isabel’s clothes, clean and folded.

“I knew you would want these,” Mariella told her. “When you didn’t come to get them, I thought I’d bring them to you.”

She zipped the case back up and pushed it toward Isabel.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

Isabel told me she had never seen Mariella look so miserable, and she couldn’t help thinking her cousin was genuinely remorseful. But then Isabel thought about what Larry had told her about that night when she was asleep and he was alone with Mariella.

She picked up the suitcase and moved it inside the apartment. “Thank you for bringing these to me,” she said. Then, with more courage than she had ever mustered in her life, she shut the door.

Mariella didn’t give up. She came back the next day, this time bringing lunch. Isabel declined, but again the look in Mariella’s eyes momentarily softened her.

The fourth time Mariella showed up, Isabel relented and let her come in. They split a soda-it was the only drink Isabel had-and sat on the couch talking about family. Isabel even found herself laughing at one of her cousin’s stories.

Day by day they began to rebuild their relationship. Isabel rationalized it as being respectful of her mother and her aunt, Mariella’s mother, but also promised herself she would be careful how close they got. Still, by the end of a few weeks, it was almost like they were back to where they were before.

Whenever their conversation veered in the direction of Larry, one of them would change the topic. Isabel did it because she was glad she could reconnect with her cousin and didn’t want to ruin things, and Mariella because, as it turned out, it just wasn’t time yet.

When Isabel talked to Larry, she never mentioned Mariella. She knew he would be upset. Her plan was to talk about it during his next visit. She figured in person it would be easier to make him understand. So when he asked her if she had talked to her cousin, she would say something like, “Don’t worry so much,” or, “I’m doing what you told me to do-being in charge of my life.” If he realized she was evading his question, he never said anything.

He was scheduled to come back near the end of March, but like that previous September, he had to postpone because of work. Only this time instead of a week, it was a whole month.

It was exactly what Mariella had been waiting for.

At first, Mariella took Larry’s side, defending him as Isabel cried in frustration that she would have to wait another month to see him. “He is a very busy and important man,” Mariella said. “Sometimes his work has to come first. How else will he be able to afford to buy you a beautiful diamond ring when he asks you to marry him?”

“But he has never said he will marry me,” Isabel argued.

“Oh, I’m sure he will.”

“You think so?”

“Of course.”

They would have a similar conversation several times a day. The talk would make Isabel feel better, even hopeful. If Mariella thought Larry would marry her, it must be true. Without even knowing it, Isabel had once again ceded control to the one person she had promised herself she would never give in to again.

After a few days of this, as Isabel became more accepting of the fact Larry wouldn’t be there until the end of April, Mariella’s optimistic tone took a slight turn.

“It’s too bad,” she said one day as they sat in Isabel’s apartment watching TV, “that it had to be a whole month and not just a couple of weeks.”

“I know,” Isabel said.

Mariella smiled sympathetically. “Well, he must have his reasons.”

Mariella had learned from the mistakes she made the previous September. She was careful not to push Isabel over the edge and cause a fight with Larry. She went so far as to even encourage her cousin’s excitement about Larry’s upcoming arrival. The negative was there, of course, but it was so subtle that it was easily deniable.

A week before he was to finally arrive, Isabel told Mariella it might be a good idea if Larry didn’t see them together. Again they avoided the subject of why.

“Of course,” Mariella said. “I understand. You want time alone.”

“Yes,” Isabel said, jumping on the excuse. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Maybe this time, he’ll even ask you to marry him.” Mariella’s smile was big and encouraging, but the effect of what she said caused Isabel to pause, doubt and hope fighting each other in her mind.

“If he’s ready,” was all that Isabel could say.

Larry arrived on a Sunday morning on a flight from Los Angeles. Isabel once again met him at the airport, and though he was obviously tired, there was excitement in his voice. Again, her hopes began to rise. Maybe this was indeed the trip he would ask her to move to the States with him so they could spend the rest of their lives together.

On the drive to Angeles, he explained that he had just made a deal to become a partner in a delivery service that covered the San Diego area in California, and was working on another deal that would even get him into Los Angeles. Isabel smiled and congratulated him, while inside her mood dipped.

His entire trip ended up being like that. Isabel’s hopes rising in anticipation, and Larry, unaware of what she was expecting, failing to say the words she wanted to hear. But she did a good job of hiding her disappointment, and even as he kissed her goodbye at their familiar spot in front of the terminal at Aquino International Airport, he didn’t know there was anything wrong.

I didn’t see Larry on that trip. Instead, I was in Australia attending Robbie’s funeral. It’s strange how sometimes when something is expected, it can still come as a surprise. It was that way for me with Robbie. For months I knew the end was coming; he’d been honest with me about that.

“Doubt I’ll even see June,” he’d told me over the phone in a voice I almost didn’t recognize. “Too bad. I’ll be sixty-five in June. Time for me to retire.” He laughed, but it quickly turned into a fit of coughing.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Nothing a new body wouldn’t solve.” He tried to laugh again, and failed.

On another call, just a week before the end, we talked about The Lounge.

“If you’d like,” he said, his voice no more than a harsh whisper, “I’ll sell you the whole place right now.”

“I can’t afford it,” I told him.

“I’ll give you a great price. Sell you my three-quarters for what I sold you your quarter for. Can’t beat that.”

I thanked him, but said I just couldn’t work it.

“I guess I’ll make a few calls and see who wants to buy in,” he said.

“That’s fine,” I told him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s someone you can work with.”

He was never able to make those calls, and as far as finding someone I could work with, he wasn’t able to keep that promise, either.

At the funeral I met his son, Frank. He was a forty-year-old version of his father, tall with a barrel chest.

“Everyone calls me Rowdy,” he said as we shook hands. “You’re Dad’s manager up at his bar in the Philippines, right?”

“Partner, actually.”

“Really?” Rowdy said, surprised. “He hadn’t told me that. Thought he owned the whole place.”

“He did once.”

“Guess I’m your partner now.”

“I guess so.”

Robbie had been a great guy and a good friend. I couldn’t have asked for a better boss or partner. After spending ten minutes with Rowdy, I knew I wouldn’t be able to say the same about him. When compared to his father, he was a cut below in every aspect of life-class, business savvy, intelligence.