The Pull of Gravity

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The dreaded encounter with Mariella came the next night. After dinner the night before, Larry had suggested they call it an early evening. And though Isabel’s sleep was not completely sound, she did wake up in the morning feeling better. By the time they went out that night, she was even in a good mood again.

Isabel told me they had planned on coming by The Lounge that evening, but for some reason ended up at Slo Joe’s, one of the biggest bars on Fields. On any given night, their lineup had more than seventy dancers. Counting waitresses and bartenders, there were nights when over a hundred girls would be working.

I hated the place. There was no reason for it to be as big as it was. The old adage “quantity doesn’t always equal quality” described the place to a tee. They didn’t really care who they took on, and all the girls knew if you lost your job and couldn’t get one anywhere else, you could always get one at Slo Joe’s. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Veta had ended up working there.

Slo Joe’s was a hive of drug addicts and bad attitudes. The girls would literally push each other out of the way to get to a potential customer. Some guys liked that kind of experience, and there were apparently more than enough of them to keep the place in business. To me it represented the worst of Angeles.

Isabel said they got there around ten p.m., and even though she walked in with Larry’s arm around her waist, the girls ignored her and pounced on him, pulling him toward empty tables in different directions. By the time order was restored, Isabel and Larry were seated in one of the cushy, velvet-covered booths along the wall. Two or three of the more persistent girls stayed with them, hoping to scam a few lady drinks or maybe, if the money was good and they were desperate enough, a bar fine and a threesome. But Larry was having none of that and soon made it clear he wasn’t going to buy any of them anything. One by one they drifted off in search of other prey.

“I don’t know why we stayed,” Isabel said as we sat on the beach watching evening descend over Boracay.

“Was it Larry’s idea?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t think he was comfortable, either, but it was like neither one of us wanted to say, ‘Come on, let’s go someplace else.’ After the emptiness of the night before, I think we both thought we needed a party.”

“And the best thing you can say about Slo Joe’s is there’s always a party,” I said, finishing her thought.

She nodded. It was clear from the look in her eyes that the memory was a painful one. “The music was so loud,” she said. “Louder than we ever had it at The Lounge on our busiest nights. The only time we could really talk was between songs. The girls kept trying to get Larry’s attention, but each time he would pull me a little closer or kiss me or run his fingers through my hair, so I didn’t mind.”

Then, without warning-but what warning could there have been? — Mariella was suddenly standing in front of them. And though she was wearing her all-purpose ear-to-ear smile, there was something in her eyes that belied any sense of well-being. She wasn’t alone, either. Bibiana and Elana, another girl Isabel had seen once or twice at Mariella’s place, were with her.

“Isabel. Larry. How are you?” Mariella sounded surprised, but Isabel got the sense she wasn’t.

Mariella leaned down and gave them each a hug and a kiss. “Have you been here long?” she asked.

“A little while,” Larry said.

Mariella leaned in toward Isabel and said in a hushed voice that was still loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t worry. I’m only saying hello.”

Isabel tensed.

“How do you like this place?” Mariella said to Larry. “I think it’s great. So many pretty girls. But, of course, you already have the prettiest one, di ba?” As she laughed, her smile never changed. It was as if it had been surgically sewn into position.

“Do you want to join us?” Larry asked.

“No, I couldn’t,” Mariella said. She glanced at her two companions. “We only came in for a drink and to see if there was anyone here we knew.”

“You know us,” Larry said.

Mariella laughed loudly. Larry’s response obviously wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “You’re right,” she said. “Maybe for just one drink.”

She sat down on the other side of Larry while Bibianna and Elena, both looking bored and annoyed, sat next to Isabel. Almost on cue, the waitress showed up to take drink orders.

“White wine,” Mariella said.

Bibianna and Elena had the same, but before the waitress could walk too far away, Mariella called her back. “I have an idea.” She leaned across Larry so she could squeeze Isabel’s hand, her right breast rubbing up against Larry’s chest. “Why don’t we celebrate? Every night your Larry’s in town should be a celebration.”

“Sounds good to me,” Larry said.

Mariella laughed and leaned into him for a moment. “You’re a funny guy.” She turned toward the waitress. “Tequila shots. Five of them.”

If it hadn’t been a party before, it was then. Even Bibianna and Elena loosened up after a second round of shots. “Maybe for just one drink” became tray after tray of wine and beer and shooters. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Even Larry didn’t seem to mind Mariella’s presence.

But for Isabel, the good feeling that had returned to her during the day was slipping away again. It was Mariella, of course, but it wasn’t so much that she was paying too much attention to Larry, it was the attention she was paying Isabel. For the most part, it was none, but a few times when everyone was looking elsewhere, Isabel caught Mariella glancing her way with eyes hard and piercing and no smile on her face.

Sometime after midnight, Larry began talking about going home, but Mariella would have none of it.

“It’s still early,” she said. “We should go dancing.”

Larry protested some, but finally said, “If Isabel wants to go, I guess it’s okay.”

Of course Isabel didn’t want to go, but even without the quick, reproachful look she got from Mariella, she knew she couldn’t say that. “Yes,” she said. “It sounds like fun.”

When the waitress came with the final bill, Larry said, “I’ll get it.” Isabel knew he needn’t have said it. No one else would have made a move to pay even a part of the bill.

As they left Slo Joe’s they met three more of Mariella’s friends. Isabel had never met any of them before, but they looked like all of Mariella’s friends-too made up, too dressed up and with an air that they were above everyone else. When Mariella said they were going dancing, Isabel got the sense the new girls already knew it. She realized Mariella must have text messaged them from inside Slo Joe’s. So their party of five grew to a party of eight, with Larry being the presumed master when in fact he was just a patsy in a grander scheme.

There is only one place in the district for dancing-the Rumba Room, just a block off Fields on a parallel street. It wasn’t a go-go bar and there were no girls to bar fine, but that didn’t mean there weren’t girls to hook up with. Freelancers and off-duty dancers enjoying a night out were often perfectly willing to go with the right guy for the right price.

Inside, there were three stories-tiers, really-surrounding a large, open central space. The dance floor was in the middle of the ground floor, so that’s where most of the people were. The higher you went, the more likely you would find a space for more intimate action. Theatrical lights illuminated the dance floor, and on some nights, special dance groups would come in to perform. Male dancers mostly, and in an odd twist, it would be the girls of Fields lining the stage, urging the guys along.

That night there was no show, only a house full of girls and guys in various stages of inebriation, some dancing, some lounging, some scamming, and a few passed out where they sat. The music was the same contemporary dance remix crap they played in most of the bars, and it was almost as loud as it was at Slo Joe’s. The difference was that the Rumba Room was big enough to absorb some of the noise and allow partial conversation.

All the tables were already full, so they found a space against the wall to squeeze into for the time being. After ordering a bottle of champagne from a waitress, Mariella, Bibianna and one of the new girls headed for the dance floor. Mariella tried to drag Larry with them, but he resisted, saying, “Maybe later.”

Every time Isabel wanted to lean over and whisper to Larry, “Take me home,” she’d catch sight of Mariella looking at her from the dance floor. It was as if her cousin knew her every move.

“Do you want to dance?” Larry asked her.

She didn’t, but she said okay anyway. Anything to make Larry happy.

Once they were on the floor, she closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. For a little while it was all gone: Mariella, the bars, the guys, Angeles, even Larry. There was nothing but darkness and the music in her head. She could feel the bodies around her as they brushed against her, but they registered only as unknowable sensations, guiding her, caressing her, keeping her safe.

When a hand slipped into hers, she knew it was Larry, so she opened her eyes and reentered the world. He leaned into her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said.

They danced continuously for three songs. At the end of the third song, she leaned against him and felt sweat on his shirt.

“Rest?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded.

Putting his arm around her, he led her off the dance floor and back to their spot along the wall. No one else was there, and for a moment Isabel hoped the others had left. But then someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to find Elena standing behind her.

“We found a table,” Elena told them. “This way.”

They followed her up the stairs to a table on the second level where Mariella and her other friends were seated. They had already worked their way through a bottle of champagne, and a waitress was setting a second bottle on the table. When Mariella saw Isabel and Larry, she jumped up.

“Where did you go?” she asked, her voice playful yet scolding.

“I wanted to dance,” Larry said.

“Isabel is so lucky to have a man who likes to dance,” Mariella told him. “Here. Sit down. We’ve poured you some champagne.”

She maneuvered it so that she was sitting next to Larry again. They toasted and drank, and toasted and drank again. Isabel, though, only had a sip. She could feel that she was on the verge of losing control. She was pretty sure Larry was, too, at that point, but he didn’t drink for a living and hadn’t learned the tricks.

There was laughter and singing and drinking, and at some point Mariella put her hand on Larry’s thigh. It stayed there for several seconds before Larry looked down. He seemed confused for a moment, as if expecting to see Isabel’s hand, not her cousin’s. He then pushed it off, and turned to Mariella, opening his mouth to say something.

“I think I want to go back to the hotel,” Isabel whispered quickly in his ear. She didn’t want to cause a scene, but she didn’t want to stay any longer. “I’m not feeling very well.”

Larry turned back to her. “Another headache?” he asked, worried.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some money for the drinks, handing it to Mariella. “This should cover everything.”

“You can’t go,” Mariella said.

“Isabel isn’t feeling well.”

“What’s wrong, Isabel?” Mariella’s voice dripped with insincere concern.

Isabel knew if she looked at her cousin she would get another one of Mariella’s withering looks, so she kept her eyes downcast. “I have a bad headache.”

“Oh, baby,” Mariella said. “Come here and I’ll give you a massage and maybe that will help.”

“Thank you, but I think I just need to rest,” Isabel said, still avoiding looking at her cousin.

As Larry and Isabel stood up to leave, Mariella also stood.

“I hope you feel better,” Mariella said, then hugged Isabel.

Caught off guard, Isabel glanced up and saw in Mariella’s eyes anger and disappointment. Isabel’s stomach churned as she accepted her cousin’s hug and kiss on the cheek.

When Mariella turned to Larry, she said, “Thank you for letting us join you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“Maybe after Isabel’s asleep, you can come back out and join us?” she suggested.

Isabel tensed, but Larry said, “Thanks, but I’m pretty tired myself.”

“I understand,” she said, as she reached out and gave him a hug.

She started to kiss him on his cheek, but instead her lips brushed past and landed on his. Before he could even react, she pulled away.

“Good night,” she said. “Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night,” Larry mumbled.

Isabel, not trusting her own voice, said nothing until the next morning.

The sun was fully down by the time she’d told me all of this. And the breeze had cooled the air enough so that it became another pleasant Boracay evening.

“What did you say to him?” I asked her.

“What could I say?” She looked at me. “It wasn’t his fault. He loved me. I knew that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

“But Mariella was hurting you,” I countered.

Isabel sighed. “It’s not that easy. I thought she was trying to teach me a lesson. I would have done anything for her then. She was everything I could never be, di ba? She’d given me everything I had. She got me my job at The Lounge. She let me live with her for free. She was family, only one in Angeles. My mother tell me before I leave home to listen to Mariella, that she know everything. ‘Mariella your cousin,’ she say. ‘Family always most important.’ If it wasn’t for Mariella, I would have never met Larry.”

“You’d both have been better off if you hadn’t met,” I said.

“Back then I didn’t think that,” she said.

“And now?”

She was quiet for a long time.

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.