The Pull of Gravity

They stopped in at The Lounge one more time before Larry returned to the States. I was pretty busy, but we were able to spend a little time together.

As far as Mariella went, they were able to avoid her the rest of the trip. Isabel knew that was only temporary, and the evening after she once again put Larry on a plane for California, she returned home knowing her cousin would be there waiting for her.

When she walked in, the living room was empty, but the lights were on so she knew Mariella was around somewhere. She thought maybe if she hurried to her room, she could avoid a confrontation. But as she started up the stairs, Mariella came out of the master bedroom.

“Is he gone already?” Mariella asked as soon as she saw Isabel.

Isabel stopped only three steps up. “He left this afternoon.”

“So soon. This was a short trip, wasn’t it?”

Isabel shrugged.

“And after postponing it for a week,” Mariella said. “Was there something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong,” Isabel said. Nothing except this was probably the worst time she and Larry had spent together. It wasn’t his fault, though. She knew it had been all her own.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Mariella said in a tone that implied she didn’t quite believe that.

“He is,” Isabel said.

Mariella frowned for a moment. “I think maybe you can do better.”

“What do you mean?” Isabel asked. “Larry’s a good person. He’s better than any of the other guys out there. Why would you say that?”

“Okay. If you don’t want to hear what I have to say, that’s your choice.” Mariella started to walk toward the kitchen.

Isabel was tempted to scream, “You’re right! I don’t want to hear what you have to say!” Instead she said, “Why do you think I could do better?”

“It’s okay. It’s none of my business.”

And no matter how much Isabel asked, Mariella refused to talk about it anymore. So instead of going to bed thinking about how much she missed Larry and couldn’t wait until he came back, she went to bed trying to figure out what Mariella meant, thinking she’d disappointed her cousin again.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Three days before Larry had arrived in town on that less-than-successful trip, Cathy left me a note that said she was going to be gone for several days, and I shouldn’t worry about her.

She hadn’t prepared me for this at all. There had been no warning, no hints that she needed to get away. Nothing. I’d gone out to run a few errands, and when I came back, the house was empty. Only her note remained.

It didn’t say where she had gone or who she might be with, just “don’t worry about me,” which I promptly ignored. I must have read it a hundred times before I finally put it down, hoping each time I might find something new, something I might have missed. But what I was looking for wasn’t there. The only thing I could perceive as remotely positive was that her note implied she would be back, so apparently she hadn’t moved out.

I guess if she had moved out it would have been less of a surprise to me. Things had continued to deteriorate between us, and I had done my best to ignore the situation altogether. I knew what she wanted, but it was the only thing I couldn’t give her. She wanted to know her future was secure. She wanted me to marry her.

She never really came out and said it, but I could tell in the way she talked about the girls who’d married their honey kos and left Angeles. I could tell in the way she sometimes stared off into nothing, her eyes blank but moist. I could tell in the way she talked about the future, hopeful one moment, pessimistic the next. She wanted to know what was around the corner, what her life would be like in a year, five, ten. From where I stood, I couldn’t even see next month.

But if she did come back, it meant I still had a chance to make things right. Maybe I didn’t love her as much as I needed to, but I loved her more than I had ever loved anyone else.

So I began making plans for her return. I’d take some time off, take her back to Boracay, or maybe splurge and take her to Hong Kong. If I really needed to, I’d pop the question. It seemed like a lot of things were changing around me, and I needed one thing to remain stable. I needed Cathy to be there.

“Several days” stretched into a week. Larry was still in town, but I barely gave him a second thought. I was too busy trying to juggle my work schedule so I could get away when Cathy returned, making travel plans, and, more than anything else, worrying about her, about us, about me.

Every day I tried Cathy’s cell phone, but my calls would immediately go to her voicemail. After the fourth day, I just hung up and said nothing. I text messaged her, too, but neither method brought any results.

I slept less, ate less, drank less. About the only thing I did more of was work. I’d get to The Lounge in the middle of the afternoon when either Tommy or Dandy Doug was working, and stay until I shut the place down at four in the morning.

On Cathy’s tenth day away, Robbie Bainbridge came back to town. It had been over half a year since his last visit. He’d told me over the phone that he’d been sick, but until he walked through the door that day, I hadn’t known how bad it was.

He’d lost a lot of weight, and looked older somehow. I even noticed a slight tremor in his hands.

“It’s the medicine,” he told me later. “They tell me not to drink anything with it, but fuck ’em. A drink now and then’s not going to kill me.”

It was cancer that had gotten into him. He never told me what kind it was, but he implied if he’d been smart enough to get it checked early on, it could have been taken care of, no problem.

“They’d managed to get most of it out,” he told me as we sat at the bar sharing a couple of beers. “And, with any luck, in a couple months I’ll be free of the bastard.”

“Cheers to that,” I said raising my San Miguel.

“Cheers, mate,” he said.

He drank almost half his bottle in one swig. I barely sipped mine, knowing it would be the only drink I’d have all night.

It looked like he was about to say something else when we were suddenly surrounded by the girls who’d just come on shift. Like the others who’d been there when Robbie arrived, the new group hugged and kissed him and told him how great he looked and asked why he’d been away for so long.

Before long, they’d talked him into giving them all a drink on the house. Tessa even ran over and gave the bell a ring.

I put a hand on Robbie’s shoulder and said, “Just because you’re buying a round doesn’t mean I’m going to put your name on the wall.”

He laughed. “No worries.”

It was almost like the first time I’d walked into The Lounge-Robbie holding court in a room full of laughing, semi-drunk women. Everyone happy and dancing and having a good time. Only the smile on Robbie’s face wasn’t as steady as it once had been, and not everyone, especially me, was happy.

After the girls had moved on and we were alone again, Robbie said, “This thing’s been making me do a lot of thinking.”

“I can imagine,” I said.

He waved his arm around, taking in the whole room. “I can’t pay attention to this place. At least not like I used to.”

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I knew what he meant. “You going to sell The Lounge?”

“Thinking about it.” He looked at me and must have seen the fear in my eyes. “I’ve gotta do something. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”