The Pull of Gravity

been a matter of respect, waiting to show her that he could provide a good future. His error was in assuming she understood this. A girl back in the States might have, but Isabel had never left the Philippines. Any future he could have given her would have been better than what she had. Most of the guys who visited Angeles would have realized that, but Larry wasn’t like the others. He didn’t mingle with them, didn’t have experience with any of the other girls. The only person he really talked to was me, and God knows we never discussed it. Maybe I should have brought it up.

The bottom line was that he was thousands of miles away with no idea that his unstated intentions about their future was the problem. All he knew then was that something was wrong, and Mariella was behind it.

At some point the idea came to him that he had to fly back to Angeles as quickly as possible. Knowing Larry like I had, I don’t think he even considered any other option. So a mere three days after he had returned home from the Philippines, he was on a plane heading west over the Pacific Ocean again.

In the evening, after her call to Larry, Isabel was back at work. It was my first night back since returning from Australia. I was in the office going over the notes about what had transpired while I was gone, and I didn’t see her come in. When I stepped into the bar an hour later and noticed her serving drinks to one of the customers, it didn’t take long to know that something was wrong. She was pale, listless and unsmiling.

I asked her what was the matter, but all she told me was she wasn’t feeling well. I told her she should go home and get some sleep. She said she’d be fine, but I insisted. She finally relented and left.

I wasn’t surprised the next night when she didn’t show up. In fact, I was happy she was staying home to get well. What did surprise me, though, was that she didn’t call to tell me she wasn’t coming in, something she usually did. I had no way of knowing Mariella had her cell phone.

It turned out to be a pretty busy night. A group of about twenty guys from Germany had come to town, and it looked like another typical evening at The Lounge. After they’d been drinking for a while, a couple of them joined the girls on stage and started to do the awkward, male version of the striptease. All their friends were laughing and whistling and calling out in English, “More, more!”

Even as I knew I couldn’t let it go on for too long, I couldn’t help laughing a little. The last thing I wanted was a stage full of naked German men-definitely not what our usual crowd expected to see when they came in. I sent over a round of beers on the house, which, as I’d hoped, got the two temporary dancers back to their seats.

Around this time, the front door opened. I turned to see who it was, hoping that it wasn’t more of the Germans.

It was Larry.

He scanned the room, a worried look on his face. When he saw me, he walked over quickly.

“I thought you already went back to the States,” I said, surprised to see him.

“Is Isabel here?” he asked. No “hello,” no “how are you doing.”

“She didn’t come in,” I said. “I think she’s not feeling well.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He turned to leave.

“Larry,” I said, stopping him. “Is something wrong?”

His only answer was a halfhearted smile, then he turned and left.

I never saw him alive again.

Isabel was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, emotionally drained as Mariella sat beside her, leafing through a magazine. They had talked earlier, most of the day actually, but Isabel couldn’t talk anymore. What she really wanted to do was fall asleep, but her eyes wouldn’t close, and her mind wouldn’t turn off.

When they heard the knock on the front door, Mariella said she would see who it was. Isabel barely even registered it.

A moment later, Isabel heard a muffled male voice in the other room. “Where is she?”

By the time she realized it was Larry, he was standing at the bedroom doorway, Mariella a few steps behind him.

Isabel sat up. “What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised she was even able to speak.

He approached the bed cautiously. “Are you okay? Doc said you were sick.”

“You went to The Lounge?” she asked.

“I thought that’s where I’d find you.”

“What are you doing here?” she repeated, unable to believe he was actually there.

He sat on the bed beside her, close but not touching her. “After you called,” he said, “I didn’t know what to think. Then when you didn’t answer when I called back, I had no other choice. I had to come see you.”

When he mentioned his unanswered calls, Isabel shot a glance to where Mariella stood in the doorway, listening. There was no expression on her cousin’s face, but her eyes were ablaze with anger.

Larry took one of Isabel’s hands in his. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

Again, she looked over at Mariella, but this time Larry turned his head and followed her gaze. When he saw Mariella, he dropped Isabel’s hand and stood up.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked.

He walked toward her, stopping when he was only a few feet away, but Mariella stood her ground.

“Whatever’s going on here is your fault,” Larry continued. “I don’t doubt that for a second. You’re not needed here anymore. Not ever.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” she said. “You’re the one who needs to leave. Isabel doesn’t want you anymore.”

Larry looked over his shoulder at Isabel. “Do you really want me to leave?”

In a tremulous voice, barely audible, she said, “No.”

Mariella screamed in frustration. “You’re confusing her!” she yelled. “You shouldn’t have come back. Go home! Go back to America! Play with someone else’s life!”

“I’m not playing with anyone’s life,” he said.

“You’re lying! Every day you play with Isabel’s life. Every day! What do you promise her? An apartment? That’s it! What kind of future is that? Leave her alone. She doesn’t need you!”

Larry didn’t say anything right away. When he did, there was bewilderment in his voice. “Is that what this is all about?” He turned and looked at Isabel. “You’re worried about a future? Our future?”

She looked away from him, unable to respond, but it was all the answer he needed.

“All this time, you’ve been waiting for me to ask you to marry me,” he said, the truth finally dawning on him.

“No,” Isabel managed. “Not all this time. But lately, I’ve wondered.”

“It’s what she deserves,” Mariella spat. “You couldn’t give it to her. You’re just like all the others here. You only want boom-boom and pretend love. That’s enough for you, but you made her think you wanted more. You’re not a good man. Get out. Leave her alone.”

Larry wasn’t listening to Mariella anymore. He returned to the bed and crouched down on the floor next to where Isabel sat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely surprised. “I thought you got it. Everything I’ve done-how I’ve treated you, how I’m never happier than when I’m with you.” He paused. Maybe that’s when he realized it-Angeles was different. Angeles was the playground, the illusion. Probably more than anyplace else he had ever been, it was actions that counted here. Words meant next to nothing.

He looked at Isabel, his eyes wide. “I wanted to prove myself to you,” he said. “I wanted to show you I wasn’t like the other guys here, before I asked you to move away from your home. Isabel, there’s nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Isabel started to say something, but this time her voice deserted her. A tear ran down one of her cheeks as she reached out and touched Larry’s face. “Really?” she whispered.

Larry nodded, smiling. He placed his hand on her knee, his eyes locked on hers. “Marry me,” he said. “Tonight if we can. Or tomorrow if we have to. Will you?”

Tears were now pouring down. As she said yes, she leaned forward, burying her face in his shoulder, truly and completely happy for the first in her life.

When she sat up again, her eyes strayed toward the doorway.

Mariella was gone.