Read The Pull of Gravity Online
Authors: Brett Battles
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Contemporary Fiction, #Literary, #Mystery, #philippines, #Tragedy, #bar girls
CHAPTER THIRTY
A few of the early-bird guests had wandered down from their hotel rooms to the poolside restaurant for breakfast. The sky had turned a beautiful azure blue, with the only clouds in sight distant, dotting the horizon.
I asked Isabel if she wanted something to eat, but she said she wasn’t hungry. So we walked to the edge of the hotel property and looked out over the beach at the ocean.
“I don’t get to see this too often,” she said. “Mornings, I mean. Everything seems so much richer, and calmer. Does that make sense?”
“Sure,” I told her, knowing exactly what she meant.
“Larry always wanted me to get up with him in the morning, but I always wanted to sleep.” She let out a short, derisive laugh. “That was time we missed spending with each other, I guess.”
Behind us somewhere came the laughter of children. On the air there was the aroma of eggs and meat. Boracay was slowly waking.
“It was Mariella, wasn’t it?” I asked.
Isabel looked at me, then returned her gaze to the ocean. “I think it was eight or nine months after the accident—you were gone by then. Even though I’d moved back home, I still heard from the girls sometimes, keeping me caught up on life in Angeles.” She paused and closed her eyes, either searching for a memory or trying to forget it. “The police caught a man who’d been robbing houses. When they were questioning him, he mentioned the accident. He claimed he wasn’t involved, but he had heard that a woman paid three men ten thousand pesos to kill an American. He said the woman was a bar girl.
“Two months later, Mariella came back to the province for a visit. I hadn’t seen her since just after the accident. She visited me in the hospital once. It was a quick visit. She’d been cold and uncaring, and I had been tired and depressed. And once I left the hospital, I only stayed in Angeles long enough to gather my things and get Larry’s money from you.
“By the time Mariella showed up back home, I knew she had to be the woman the man had described.” A grim smile crossed her face. “It’s funny—she greeted me like we were sisters, like we were the best friends in the world. She told everyone what a great time we’d had living together. I didn’t say anything to challenge her story. But on the third day she was there, we found ourselves alone at my parents’ shop, and I could no longer pretend that she was someone I was happy to see.
“‘When are you coming back?’ she asked.
“‘I’m not going back,’ I told her.
“‘Why not?’ she asked me.
“‘Because you’re there,’ I said.
“I don’t think that was the answer she was expecting. Her eyes became mean, and she asked me, ‘Why would you say that?’
“I almost said, ‘Because you killed Larry.’ But why? She would just deny it. I knew the truth.”
There was anger in Isabel’s voice as she relived the moment. I put my arm around her shoulder, letting her know I was there, and that what she was remembering was in the past. Slowly I felt the tension ease from her body.
“Before she left town,” Isabel began again, “she made sure we had another moment alone.
“She told me, ‘Don’t ever think you are better than me. You never were, and you never will be. I’ve already proved that to you. I’ve shown you how quickly you can fall back down, and if you ever try to make something better again, I’ll do what I did to you before. Only maybe this time, it will be you who will end up in the ground.’
“I slapped her as hard as I could, wishing that instead of an empty hand I’d been holding a knife. I could have killed her then. That’s how I felt. I could have killed her. I wanted to kill her.”
She stared out at the water, blue and inviting. She became lost in her thoughts, her own memories, and I did nothing to disturb her. Finally she turned to me. There was a tear running down her left cheek, but she wiped it away and smiled tentatively.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. It’s all right.” I hesitated a moment, then said, “I didn’t see Mariella when I was in Angeles earlier this week.”
“She’s gone,” Isabel said, her voice flat.
“Where?” I asked, thinking Mariella had finally been able to convince someone to take her out of the Philippines.
“Just gone. She’s never coming back.”
That was all Isabel would say.
• • •
Eventually, we returned to my room. While Isabel went into the bathroom, I lay down on my bed, dead tired, but feeling like I might never sleep again. It’s strange how sometimes when you finally find the answers you’ve been looking for, the questions don’t seem quite as important anymore. That was the way it was with my memories of Larry. As I learned why he died, I came to remember how he lived, and how good a friend he had been to me.
When Isabel came out of the bathroom, she walked over and lay on the bed beside me.
“Please,” she said.
I put my arms around her, and stroked her hair. I was surprised she never cried, but maybe she’d already cried enough. Soon she was asleep, and after a while, I was, too.
• • •
After checking with the airline, I was able to move my flight out of Manila to the following afternoon, meaning I needed to leave Boracay first thing in the morning.
Isabel didn’t wake up until after eight p.m.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“A little,” she said.
We walked several blocks until we found a small Chinese restaurant. I asked her if that was okay, and she said, “Anything,” so we went inside.
There was very little conversation between us now. I guess we’d said almost everything we needed to say.
“I’m leaving in the morning,” I told her. “But you can stay with me one more night, if you’d like.”
She smiled, then nodded. “Thank you.”
After a while, I said, “I’m not coming back.”
She looked at me, her brow furrowing slightly, unsure of what I meant.
“To the Philippines,” I added.
“I know,” she said, sounding both sad and relieved.
“You should go home, too. Back to where you grew up.”
“Maybe,” she said, but there was no conviction in her voice. “I have a dream, you know. Maybe be a nurse.” She looked at me. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“I think that would be great.”
She smiled, but I knew there was little chance she would follow through with it. It was a dream, a bar-girl dream, one without a plan. Chances were, the farthest she would ever go would be to become a mamasan someday. And even that wasn’t a sure thing. She’d already had her chance at the dream, and it had been ripped from her hands.
Despite sleeping the day away, we were both pretty tired when we got back to the room. This time, as we lay down to sleep, Isabel went back to her own bed.
• • •
I woke before the sun came up, took a shower, then got dressed and packed my bags. All the while, Isabel continued to sleep. I had to wake her soon, but first I pulled out all the cash I could spare—over nine thousand pesos—and put it in Isabel’s purse. As I was closing her bag, I realized it was almost the same amount Mariella had supposedly paid to have Larry killed. I hoped that this money would go to better use.
I woke her and told her it was almost time for me to leave. She got dressed quickly, and soon we exited our room and made our way to the front of the hotel. I signaled for one of the trikes that were waiting nearby. As it drove up, I turned to Isabel.
“Be careful,” I said.
“I always am,” she said.
There was more I would have liked to say, but I knew my ideas and suggestions would not be heard. Despite the fact that I had spent the last forty-eight hours reminding her of the person she used to be, that wasn’t who she was anymore.
“Papa?” she said. “I’ve been trying to forget him for so long.”
“I know,” I said.
She hesitated. “I’m glad you found me.”
“Even though I forced you not to forget?”
“I know I can never forget.”
Even though I’d found the answers I’d come searching for, I realized I would not be able to forget, either. The most I could hope for was honoring Larry’s memory to the best of my abilities. Starting with Isabel.
“What about school?”
“School?” She looked at me, confused.
“You mentioned becoming a nurse last night.”
She nodded, her smile slipping. “Maybe it’s too late.”
“Isabel,” I said. “It’s not.” Then I decided to play the only card I thought might push her into motion. “Larry would have liked that.”
She didn’t say anything for almost a minute. “Maybe I’ll think about it,” she finally said.
“There’s so much more out there for you than this.”
She scanned the tropical trees that surrounded the front of the hotel. The air was fresh and warm, and the sky was bluer than blue.
“Is there?” she said.
I didn’t say anything. That was a question only she could answer. After a moment, I pulled out one of my business cards and gave it to her. “If you ever need to talk, call me. I mean it.”
We dropped back into silence, and it was then that I knew we were done. It was time for me to go home, to truly start my new life. My Bangkok life.
Natt deserved that much. No, she deserved more, so much more. And I knew for the first time since I had met her at the language school where she had worked that I could give it all to her. My whole self. Everything.
The Philippines, Angeles, the girls, the guys, the life—all of it would still be part of me. But not like it had been. I thought I was done with everything when I’d moved away, but my restless, often sleepless nights had said otherwise. Now it was really over.
I turned toward Isabel, smiling as best I could, then opened my arms to say goodbye.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brett Battles lives and writes full time in Los Angeles. He is the author of seven novels, including THE DECEIVED, winner of the Barry Award for Best Thriller 2009. More info available at
www.brettbattles.com
THE PULL OF GRAVITY
Copyright © 2011 by Brett Battles
Cover art copyright © 2011 by Rob Gregory Browne
All rights reserved.
THE PULL OF GRAVITY is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For more information about the author, please visit
www.brettbattles.com
.
For more information about the artist, please visit
www.robertgregorybrowne.com
.