The Pull of Gravity (22 page)

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.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

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.

We shook hands again before I left. He made sure to tell me he was going to come up for a visit very soon.

I couldn’t wait.

•    •    •

With Robbie dying, I had forgotten Larry was supposed to be in town, so I took a few extra days in Australia before returning home. Even if I had remembered Larry was going to be there, I probably still would have taken those days. I needed them to get my head on straight. So much was changing, so much was different. 

I flew to Melbourne where I had some friends, thinking we might be able to hang out and relax. As it turned out, I never even tried to contact them. Instead, I ended up going on long walks through the city, not really paying attention to where I was or where I was going.

For a while I thought about Cathy, wondering how she was handling the cold of Scandinavia. I still missed her, but not like I had at first. It was her friendship I missed now, and in many ways that was worse.

I thought about The Lounge and Robbie and the girls and the never-ending party. I thought about my life before, about Maureen and Aunt Marla. And Lily.

And finally I thought about Larry, about how if he hadn’t woken me up again like he had, I'd still be sitting at The Lounge not caring about anyone or anything.

I thought about it all, and as I flew back to the Manila, I knew one thing for sure—my time in Philippines was coming to an end.

•    •    •

Mariella didn’t see Larry on that trip, either. At least if she did, Isabel never noticed her. Something tells me she was there somewhere, just around a corner or hiding in the shadows at a bar, watching and waiting.

She certainly knew when he left, though. Isabel hadn’t been back from the airport more than an hour when Mariella knocked on her door.

“So show me,” Mariella said, rushing into the room all excited. “Let me see it.”

Isabel closed the door, her eyes red from crying. “See what?” she asked.

“What’s wrong?” Mariella said.

“Larry’s gone,” Isabel said. “That’s all.”

“But this time was different, right?” Mariella smiled, then reached for Isabel’s left hand. “Let me see it.” She pulled Mariella’s hand up. “Where’s the ring?”

“What ring?”

“Didn’t he—”

Isabel cut her off with a shake of her head. “He wasn’t ready yet.”

“Did he tell you this?”

“We didn’t talk about it.”

Isabel walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling her knees to her chest. Mariella followed and sat beside her.

“I don’t understand,” Mariella said. “What is he waiting for? You’ve been seeing him for a long time now.”

“I told you, he’s not ready.”

Mariella started to say something else, but stopped herself and put an arm around her cousin’s shoulder. Isabel closed her eyes and started to cry again.

Mariella stayed over that night, comforting Isabel as she tried to sleep, eventually offering her one of the same type of sleeping pills she had given her that night in Larry’s hotel room.

The next day, Mariella continued to stay by her side, saying things like, “I’m sure it will all be okay,” and, “He’ll ask you next time. I’m sure of it.”

Mariella finally left when Isabel went to work that evening. She had at first asked Isabel if she really wanted to work, and Isabel said she had to. It was her job. So Mariella let her go alone. She probably didn’t know I was still in Australia, but even if she had, I doubt she would have come into The Lounge.

The next day Mariella visited again. But instead of being the cheery, supportive friend she had been the day before, she seemed annoyed and distracted. When Isabel asked if there was something bothering her, Mariella just shook her head and said, “It’s nothing.”

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.