The Pull of Gravity (23 page)

The way she saw it at the time was that she had only two choices: accept the situation for what it was and give in completely—become like Mariella, in other words—or break it off. As much as she still loved her cousin, she knew she couldn’t live Mariella’s life, never having hope, never expecting more.

By the time she fell asleep, her mind was made up. She would call Larry and tell him she couldn’t do this any longer. It was the right thing to do, she thought.

Only it wasn’t. Not even close.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“I’m calling to say goodbye,” Isabel said into her cell phone.

It was morning in Angeles, but, because of the international dateline, still evening the day before in California.

Larry had to have been caught completely off guard, not only by what she had said, but also because he was the one who usually called her.

“Hold on,” he said. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

She had to speak her words carefully so he wouldn’t hear the stutter in her voice as she fought for air. “I can’t be your girlfriend anymore.” She took a breath, then added, “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened. I don’t—” She stopped herself. “I don’t love you anymore,” she said, the water welling in her eyes belying her words.

“I know that’s not true,” he said, his voice calm. “Tell me what’s wrong and we can figure it out together, okay?”

“There’s nothing to figure out, nothing to do. It’s over,
di ba
?”

“I don’t accept that.”

“I’ll move out of the apartment before the end of the month. I’ll try to get your money back.”

“Why would you move out?” he asked.

“I don’t feel right taking your money if we are not together.”

“You’d rather go back to living with a group of girls in crappy conditions?”

She hesitated before answering him, knowing what she said would upset him more. “I’m moving back in with my cousin.”

“Mariella?” Whatever trace of calm that had been in his voice was gone. “Dammit, Isabel. What’s she done to you?”

“Nothing. It’s not her fault. She’s my friend.”

“No, she’s
not
your friend.”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this,” Isabel said. “I need to go.”

“Isabel, wait,” he said.

She resisted the urge to disconnect the call.

“I need you,” he said.

“No, you don’t.” This time she didn’t wait for him to say anything else before she hung up.

“Are you all right?” Mariella asked. She had been sitting on the couch watching Isabel pace while talking to Larry.

“No,” Isabel said. “I want to call him back, tell him I was wrong.”

Mariella got off the couch and quickly moved to her cousin’s side. “I know it’s hard,” she said, as she gently placed a hand on Isabel’s arm. “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Isabel looked down at the phone. It would be so easy to just redial Larry’s number. Her thumb was subconsciously moving in the direction of the call button when suddenly her phone rang. Larry’s name was on the display.

“Is it him?” Mariella said.

Isabel nodded.

“Don’t answer it,” her cousin told her.

But Isabel accepted the call anyway and put the phone up to her ear.

“Isabel?” Larry said.

She said nothing.

“Isabel, are you there?”

Before she could answer him, Mariella grabbed the phone and pushed disconnect. Once she was sure he was no longer on the line, she turned the phone off.

“It’s better this way,” Mariella said. “If you want to end it, then end it. This way he’ll know it’s over.” Instead of giving the phone back to Isabel, she put it in her purse. “You don’t really need this right now. I’ll give it back to you in a few days, okay? Safer for you.”

“I didn’t even give him a chance,” Isabel said.

“Aren’t you listening to me? You cannot talk to him. You must let it go,
di ba
? There is no other way.”

Isabel took a step toward Mariella, reaching for her cousin’s bag. Mariella moved it out of reach.

“Give it to me,” Isabel said, grabbing for it again, but missing.

“No.”

“I made a mistake.”

“You didn’t,” Mariella said.

“Give me my phone.”

She tried to push Mariella out of the way to get to the purse, but Mariella anticipated this and moved to the side, the bag in her hand behind her back. As Isabel regained her balance, Mariella reached out and slapped her cousin across the face. Isabel froze in surprise, her cheek stinging from the blow.

“Stop it,” Mariella said. “You did the right thing. Talking to him now won’t help anything.”

“But—” Isabel began.

“No,” Mariella cut her off. “It’s over. Better for you. You’ll see.”

Isabel slumped onto the couch, defeated.

That had to have been a moment of triumph for Mariella. In her mind, she must have thought she’d won. In a matter of minutes, her cousin had gone from being one of the lucky ones to just another bar girl. No chance she would overshadow Mariella now.

•    •    •

I don’t know what was going on with Larry back in San Francisco after he talked to Isabel, but I could make a pretty good guess. He must have tried calling her phone several times over the next couple of hours, only to be frustrated when she failed to answer.

He must have been going crazy. He loved Isabel as much as anyone could love another person. He had undoubtedly wanted to get his business squared away before asking her to marry him. For Larry it had probably 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.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A slight glow of deep blue began encroaching on the black night sky. We were still sitting on the ground near the pool, but our legs were no longer in the water. 

All of this was news to me. I had never known exactly how far Mariella had involved herself in Isabel’s life. And while I was aware of Larry’s dislike for her, I never realized all the reasons why. I’d always thought he was like the rest of us who were able to easily see through Mariella’s games. I just assumed he was worried that Mariella’s selfish, superficial ways might rub off on Isabel. Now I realized it was so much more than that.

And until that night—that morning, really—as I sat with a girl who had once been my friend, listening to her remember things she’d kept locked up for so long, I’d never known Larry had proposed to her.

I had come back to the Philippines because there were things I needed to know, questions I had never been able to answer. Now those questions were disappearing one by one.

“What happened next?” I asked.

Isabel made no response. I knew she had heard me, but I was content to wait until she was ready to continue.

•    •    •

“We can’t get married tonight,” she said. “It’s too late.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Larry told her.

They were standing in the living room, Isabel’s head against Larry’s chest, his arms wrapped around her, protecting her.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Completely,” he said.

She smiled, but then thought of something else. “What about my visa? I can’t go back with you yet.”

“I know. Tomorrow, after we get married, we’ll go to Manila and get the paperwork started.”

“I’ve heard other girls say it may take a long time.”

“But we’ll still be married.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Yes,” she said, losing herself in the idea of it. “It will be different, won’t it?”

He chuckled, then said, “I’ll still have to go back home, though. We’ll be apart for a while.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “However long it takes, it will be fine.”

He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up so he could kiss her. As they embraced, Larry’s stomach rumbled.

“Sorry,” he said.

Isabel began to laugh, and he soon joined her.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“A little, I guess.” As he smiled, his stomach groaned again. “OK, more than a little.”

“Let me fix you something. Sit.”

She pushed him toward the couch, but he followed her into the kitchen and watched her reheat some chicken from the day before. There was still one of his beers in the refrigerator, so she pulled it out and opened it for him.

“Thanks,” he told her.

He ate where he stood, leaning again the wall, his eyes seldom leaving Isabel.

“Tell me about California,” she said. “I want to know it all.”

“And you will,” he said. He told her about the Golden Gate Bridge, about Nob Hill, Chinatown, the Presidio. He described his house to her, saying he wanted her to help him redecorate it. He said if she wanted, they could get a dog.

She wanted to ask him about children, but she thought it could wait. He would be such a good father, she knew, so of course he would want kids.

“You must be tired,” she finally said. “Shall we go to bed?”

“My suitcase,” he said. “I left it with the receptionist at the Las Palmas.”

“You took a hotel room?” she asked.

“No, I was waiting until I talked to you first, but I didn’t want to carry the damn thing all over the place.”

“You want to go get it now?” she asked.

He nodded. “I told them I’d be back tonight.”

•    •    •

They went together, walking down Isabel’s dark street to a place where it would be easier to get a trike. The ride to the Las Palmas only took them a few minutes. Once they got there, Larry and Isabel went inside and retrieved his suitcase.

“How about a drink?” Larry suggested as they neared the bar on their way to the front door.

“Whatever you’d like,” she said.

He ordered a San Mig, but Isabel only got a Coke.

“I can’t believe you came back,” she said.

“I can’t believe you tried to break up with me.”

She blushed and lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s the problem? I talked you out of it, didn’t I?”

She nodded.

Back outside, they signaled to the group of trike drivers gathered in front of The Pussycat Bar. The one on the end started his engine and drove over to them.

It was a little more crowded in the enclosed sidecar now that they had Larry’s suitcase. Luckily it was only carry-on size, as he had opted to leave his larger one at home.

“Are you okay?” Isabel asked.

Larry was supporting most of the suitcase in his lap. “It only hurts a little,” he said, smiling.

They rode in silence, the sound of the trike driver’s motorcycle loud enough to make conversation difficult.

They were about half a mile from Isabel’s apartment when it happened.

Streetlights were hit or miss in Angeles, and they happened to be on one of the darker streets when a car raced by, then suddenly stopped in front of them too quickly for the trike driver to avoid it.

Motorcycle and sidecar smashed into the back of the beat-up sedan, sending the driver flying over the car’s trunk into the back window. The only thing that kept Isabel and Larry from the same fate was the canopy and front windshield of the sidecar. They lurched forward but remained inside the sidecar.

Isabel ended up under both Larry and the suitcase. Larry quickly sat back, pulling the suitcase with him and then throwing it onto the street, out of the way. Isabel’s arm was broken and her right foot was twisted in a way it was never meant to go. Larry leaned down to get a better look.

“You’re bleeding,” Isabel said, her voice weak. “Your head.”

He touched his forehead, and when he moved his hand back in front of his face, it was covered with blood.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

They heard footsteps approaching. Larry turned back toward the street. “I could use some help,” he called out.

The footsteps stopped a few feet away. Larry must have seen someone there because he smiled, relieved.

“Thank God,” Larry said. “My girlfriend’s hurt. Maybe you can help me get—”

Suddenly, several hands reached into the vehicle and pulled Larry out.

“Wait!” Larry yelled. “She needs help!”

But whoever he was talking to didn’t seem to be listening.

There was a thud and a slap, then Isabel heard a dragging sound as the feet moved away again. The accident made her confused. She didn’t recognize the sounds for what they were. She waited for someone to pull her out, too, but nearly two minutes passed and no one came.

“Larry?” she called out.

Nothing.

“Someone, please. I need help.”

Still no reply.

“Larry!”

Something was wrong. She knew it. She had to get out. She had to find Larry.

She tried to pull herself back into what was left of the chair. Pain screamed from both her arm and her ankle. There was also pain in her side and her hip, though neither as intense as the first two.

Once she was upright again, she leaned through the door and looked out. It took her a second to realize the sidecar had somehow swung around so that it was now perpendicular to the street. She couldn’t see the motorcycle portion from where she was, or the car they had hit. What she did see was an empty street.

“Larry!” she called.

As she pushed herself out of the sidecar with her good arm, an older woman appeared around the front end.

“
Naku
!” the woman said. Then she shouted, “There’s a girl over here who needs help!”

Soon two people, the old woman and a girl not much older than Isabel, helped Isabel to the side of the road.

“My boyfriend. I don’t know what happened to him,” Isabel said.

“The driver?” the young woman asked.

“No,” Isabel said. “An American. My fiancé.”

“There are only the two of you,” the woman said.

“He’s here,” Isabel insisted. “Someone pulled him out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Isabel yelled, nearly hysterical.

The young woman shook her head. “There’s only the two of you,” she repeated.

•    •    •

They found Larry’s body a few blocks away in an empty lot. It was a couple of kids who made the discovery. They were up early looking for anything valuable they might be able to sell for a few pesos.

Larry had been stabbed three times, any one of which would have been fatal.

The police came to my house at ten in the morning and woke me up. With Isabel in the hospital, they needed me to identify the body. How they knew my connection with Larry, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t really matter anyway.

His face seemed paler, and his skin looked almost like plastic, but it was Larry. No question about it. When I asked what had happened, they said it was a robbery gone bad. They then asked me if I wanted to see the wounds. I told them no.

At the time I had no reason to question their conclusion. Larry’s wallet was missing, and if he had anything else of value on him at the time of the incident, it was also gone.

After I had identified Larry and told the cops I would make the arrangements to send him home, I went to the hospital to see Isabel. She was in a large room with five other patients. Her arm was wrapped and immobilized, but not yet in a cast. I couldn’t see her foot, but the doctor told me the ankle was broken.

There were bruises on her face, and I was sure the damage continued underneath the blanket in areas I couldn’t see. She was in a drug-induced sleep. I asked the doctor when I should come back, and he told me he doubted she’d wake up before the next morning.

•    •    •

That evening I decided to give the girls the night off, and closed The Lounge. I knew if we had opened, it would have been a pretty somber place. All the girls liked Isabel, and most knew Larry, too. It was no time for a party.

I don’t know what everyone else did, but I stayed home, wandering the rooms of my home, taking stock of the possessions I had accumulated. Pictures and furniture and satellite TV and even the house itself, with its three bedrooms and its pool out back. They all represented who I had become in some way, an ex-pat who rented girls for the night, and whose closest friends were drunks and lechers. That’s what I was left with once Larry was gone.

I remember staring out my front window at a palm tree that grew in a neighbor’s yard, the lights from their house illuminating it like a piece of art in a museum. It was tall and thin and swayed slightly in the wind. It was so simple, and so beautiful. I remember thinking, wasn’t that what I had wanted in the beginning? Something simple? An early retirement and plenty of time to do nothing.

But I had damned myself the moment I decided to move to the Philippines.

When I finally turned away from the window, I looked at my house with new eyes. I would sell it as is, furnished and decorated. I would take only the things I really needed.

For me, the never-ending party stopped that night. Rowdy could run the bar himself once he got there.

I was done.

•    •    •

When I arrived at the hospital the next morning, the doctor told me Isabel was awake. He also told me something else.

“She’s been asking for the man,” he said. “Larry?”

“She doesn’t know?” I asked.

The doctor paused before answering. “We thought it best if it came from one of her friends.”

Which meant me.

I entered her room, my head swirling with anxiety and sadness and a deep desire to turn around and leave so that someone else could do what I was about to.

She didn’t see me at first. Her eyes were half shut, pain creasing her brow. I noticed her arm was now in a cast, and the bruises on her face had grown.

I stood at the side of her bed. “Isabel?”

She opened her eyes slowly, and they brightened some when she realized who I was. “Hi, Papa,” she said.

“You look like you’re in pain. Do you need something?” I asked.

“The nurse just gave me a pill,” she said. “I’ll feel better in a moment.”

“The doctor tells me that your arm will heal and your ankle, too. It’ll just take a little time.”

She tried to smile, but that only caused more pain.

“Is Larry here?” she asked. “I thought he would come visit me, but I haven’t seen him.”

I didn’t know how to begin, so I took what I hoped was the easy way out. “What’s important right now is you get some rest and get better,” I said.

“Where is he?” she asked, not letting it go. “Is he hurt?” She tried to push herself up, but didn’t get far before pain forced her back down. “I need to see him.”

“Isabel,” I said. “Larry’s not here. And he’s not coming.”

She looked at me, confused. Before she could ask another question, I said, “He died after the accident.”

I watched as panic overtook her, deforming her face and causing the hand of her unbroken arm to shake. She opened her mouth several times to speak, and when she finally did, her words piled on top of each other in a stuttered gasp. “But he was okay. He wasn’t hurt. Not like me.”

I noticed the doctor and one of the nurses hovering nearby. They had obviously anticipated Isabel’s reaction to the news they had fated me to deliver.

“Isabel, there’s nothing you can do. You just need to get better.”

I knew my words were inadequate. What do you tell someone when the man she’d loved for two years was dead? Whatever it was, I didn’t know it.

“I need to see him,” she said, her voice suddenly strong. “I need to see him now.”

Again she pushed herself up, this time succeeding in reaching a sitting position. Apparently that was the cue for the doctor and nurse to move in.

“No!” Isabel screamed as they pushed her back down on the bed.

She tried to pull away, but she was too weak. When the nurse stuck the needle in her arm, she could barely even shrug. Soon Isabel’s eyes closed and she was once again asleep.

She never did see Larry again. His body was flown back to America and buried a week before she got out of the hospital. Her last sight of him had been as someone pulled him out of the sidecar while he protested that his girlfriend needed help.