The Pull of Gravity

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

As for me, when Larry left The Lounge that night after our disagreement, I got drunk for the first time in months. It wasn’t a typical papasan drunkenness that had been almost a perpetual state for me since I started working on Fields, the kind that made me feel really good but still able to keep my business head about me. That’s when I drank because it was expected, an unwritten part of the job description.

No, it wasn’t like that this time. I didn’t care about the party anymore. I just wanted to silence the thoughts and voices and images that were besieging me. My subconsciousness was starting to wake up again, but all I wanted to do was stay numb. So I drank until I all but collapsed on the bar.

Analyn had a couple of the other girls help her close up. When they were done, she waited until Manny arrived to take me home. Between the two of them, they maneuvered me into the sidecar. I’m sure it wasn’t easy; I was still pretty big then. I barely remember any of it. What I do recall was that Manny had to stop at least twice on the way to my place so I could lean out into the night and vomit on the road.

I woke around noon, head pounding and throat feeling like every ounce of moisture had been sucked out of it. I was lying on top of my bed, still wearing the clothes I’d gone to work in the previous night. I didn’t want to move, and yet I had to. My bladder was screaming at me, and I needed aspirin. And water, about an ocean’s worth.

As I climbed out of the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, I had to reach out several times to steady myself on whatever was nearby. I was still a little drunk, and that pissed me off. There were few things worse than having a raging hangover and still being drunk.

I managed to miss the toilet only once as I relieved myself. Pretty good, I thought, considering. I stripped off everything, then turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it. Before I stepped in, I grabbed the bottle of aspirin and poured five tablets into my hand. I shoved them in my mouth two at a time and dry swallowed them.

After that, I stood in the shower, the hot water massaging the nape of my neck, trying not to think about why I was in this state but not doing a very good job at it. At first, I blamed my condition on Larry. If he hadn’t been such an asshole, it would have been just another of my increasingly sober nights.

It didn’t take long for me to figure out that I was the asshole.

I turned to face the water, closing my eyes and letting it run over my head. I could feel the alcohol finally receding from my body. My headache, while still very much there, had also lost some of its strength.

I remember when I was young, we had these next-door neighbors who used to fight all the time. Actually it was the wife who did most of the yelling. The husband-their last name was Russell, I think-was always this really nice guy. He talked to me when he saw me, and seemed to have a smile on his face whenever he walked down the street. His wife was the best-looking woman on the block, who barely noticed any of us kids as we stopped what we were doing and stared every time we saw her. Anyway, I guess she wanted more out of life than Mr. Russell could give her, so one day she left. I remember asking my dad why Mr. Russell didn’t try to find her, and ask her to come back. Dad took a long time before he answered, and when he did, there was a kind of resignation to it. “He didn’t have the energy anymore.”

I knew everything Larry said to me the night before had been right. What I didn’t know was if I had the energy to do anything about it anymore.

One of the things I knew I had to do was apologize to Larry, but when I called his room at the Las Palmas, no one answered. I called back and left a message with the receptionist, then headed off for The Lounge.

At first the girls seemed surprised that I had come in, but soon they were laughing and teasing me about my little binge the previous night. When Analyn set a San Miguel on the bar for me, I shook my head and told her to give me a water instead.

As the night went on, it was almost like I was seeing the place for the first time. There was a general lack of discipline I hadn’t noticed before. Girls were carrying their cell phones tucked in the back of their bikini bottoms. More than once, I saw one of the dancers on stage stop in the middle of a song, pull out her phone, and read a message she’d just received. Even those sitting with customers were sending and receiving texts. And that wasn’t all. Dancers were blowing off their turns on the stage, fighting over customers in ways I’d never allowed before, and generally acting like prima donnas.

There was a part of me that was appalled I had been letting this go on, but another part of me wondered if I should really care.

“Analyn,” I said, waving her over. “I want someone to collect the cell phones from any girl who has one and put them in my office.”

She looked at me for a moment like she hadn’t understood what I said.

“They know the rules,” I told her. “Do it now, please.”

I never heard from Larry before he left. Of course now I know why. I thought perhaps he was pissed off at me, but as he was dealing with finding Isabel a new place to live, he probably didn’t even give me a second thought.

It was better that way. If I’d seen him, I would have apologized and told him he was right, and in effect given myself a pass to slack off again because at least I admitted my problem. But since I didn’t get that opportunity, I was forced to look inside and really examine what the hell was going on with me.

Within two weeks, The Lounge was back to the shape it should have been. I’d also hired two new papasans, two Brit ex-pats named Andrew and Mark. Now, including Dandy Doug and me, there were four of us, more than enough for me to cut down on my hours.

I found myself spending more and more time alone at my house by my pool. And for the first time since I’d moved to Angeles, I began to wonder if this was really the place I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

When Isabel returned to work, she told me about her new apartment. When I asked her what Mariella thought about it, she got kind of quiet, shrugged, then suddenly noticed a customer who needed a drink.

The old me, the numb me, probably wouldn’t have connected the dots, but I was awake again and immediately understood what was going on.

At around ten that evening, Mariella showed up. I watched as she scanned the room before finally walking over and sitting down on the stool next to me. I knew who she had been looking for, but Isabel was nowhere to be seen, no doubt hiding in back somewhere.

“Hello, Papa Jay,” Mariella said, smiling.

“Hey,” I replied.

“No beer tonight?” she asked, then laughed.

She hadn’t been there the night I’d gotten drunk, but one of the girls must have told her about it.

I tilted my bottle of water toward her in a silent toast but said nothing.

“It’s hot in here,” she said. “Is your air conditioning working?”

“It’s fine.”

“Maybe it’s just me. I probably should have something to drink,” she said expectantly.

As our nightly visits had become more regular, I had started buying her a couple of beers. We would flirt for a while, and then she would leave. The thought of continuing those games suddenly disgusted me.

“That’s up to you,” I said.

Her mouth opened in mock shock, then she hit me softly on the shoulder with her open hand. “You’re not going to buy me something?”

“Nope.”

This time there was nothing mocking about the look on her face. Her surprise was genuine, but she quickly tried to hide it behind another one of her smiles. “Is my cousin here tonight?”

“Haven’t seen her,” I said.

“Is Larry still here?”

“Haven’t seen him, either.”

“I see, I see,” she said. “Maybe they went out of town.”

“Maybe.”

We sat in silence for several minutes, me doing my best to ignore her, and Mariella occasionally glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, probably trying to figure out why I was acting so different.

“Maybe we can go out of town sometime,” she finally said, smiling playfully and turning in her stool so her leg rubbed up against mine.

I stood up. “I don’t see that happening.”

I walked across the room and greeted a couple of customers I recognized. When I looked back at the bar, Mariella was gone. As far as I know, she never set foot in The Lounge again.

About a month later, I received a call from Larry. It was only the third time he’d ever phoned when he wasn’t in town. I was at work, and when I looked at my cell phone, I didn’t recognize the number. But I could tell it was from the States, so I went ahead and answered.

I didn’t recognize Larry’s voice right away, so I asked who it was.

“It’s Larry,” he said.

“Larry? Oh, sorry,” I said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” There was a moment when neither of us spoke. I was on the verge of telling him I was sorry for how I’d acted the last time we’d talked, when he spoke first. “How’s Isabel?”

“She seems fine,” I said. “She told me about her new apartment. Your doing, I suppose.”

He hesitated before he spoke. “It was necessary.” His words were measured, as if he were unsure where I stood as far as Mariella was concerned.

“Getting her away from her cousin was probably the best thing you could have done for her,” I told him.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, sounding relieved. “She hasn’t been around has she?”

“Who? Mariella?”

“Yes.”

“She came by once or twice,” I said.

“Did she talk to Isabel?”

“No.”

“Good,” he said. “Listen, I’ve got to run. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “But hurry back. I think she misses you more than usual.”

“As soon as I can.”

After we hung up, I realized I hadn’t apologized. I promised myself the next time I saw him, I would buy him a beer and do just that.

“I’d only been in the apartment for six weeks,” Isabel said. “No one ever visited me there. Only Larry.”

The night had become quiet. While in other parts of Boracay there would be drinking and dancing and singing until dawn, at my hotel, most of the guests were asleep. We were sitting on the edge of the pool now, our legs dangling in the warm water. The fresh scent of the earlier rain shower still hung in the air.

Isabel looked up at the night sky. “I never wanted to have anyone but Larry there. It was our place, and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“That’s why you never invited me over,” I said.

When she answered, her voice was serious. “Yes. That’s why.” She glanced at me, then looked back at the sky. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand.”

“No,” she said. “I should have offered to show you. After she’d been there, what did it matter?”

“Mariella?”

She nodded.

We sat that way for several minutes, looking at the stars, lost in our thoughts.

“What happened?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I let her back into my life.”

It wasn’t quite that easy, but essentially, that’s what happened. Mariella appeared at her doorstep, her eyes dark and tired, her smile missing. Her head was even bowed slightly, as if she expected Isabel to slam the door in her face.

Isabel should have, but couldn’t. Mariella was family.

“I’m sorry,” Mariella said. “You should hate me, but I hope you don’t. I’ve only been trying to help you, but sometimes, maybe, I was not right. You can forgive me for that, can’t you? I…I know you found your box.” She paused. “It was wrong of me to cut up the pictures, but I was so mad and hurt, I couldn’t help myself. Please, Isabel, please. I ask that you forgive me. Look.” She held up the soft-sided suitcase she was carrying. “Your clothes.”

“My clothes?” Isabel said, confused. “I thought you threw them away.”

“Why would you think such a thing? I was only having them cleaned for you. See? They are all here.”

She set the bag on its side and unzipped it. Inside were all Isabel’s clothes, clean and folded.

“I knew you would want these,” Mariella told her. “When you didn’t come to get them, I thought I’d bring them to you.”

She zipped the case back up and pushed it toward Isabel.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

Isabel told me she had never seen Mariella look so miserable, and she couldn’t help thinking her cousin was genuinely remorseful. But then Isabel thought about what Larry had told her about that night when she was asleep and he was alone with Mariella.

She picked up the suitcase and moved it inside the apartment. “Thank you for bringing these to me,” she said. Then, with more courage than she had ever mustered in her life, she shut the door.

Mariella didn’t give up. She came back the next day, this time bringing lunch. Isabel declined, but again the look in Mariella’s eyes momentarily softened her.

The fourth time Mariella showed up, Isabel relented and let her come in. They split a soda-it was the only drink Isabel had-and sat on the couch talking about family. Isabel even found herself laughing at one of her cousin’s stories.

Day by day they began to rebuild their relationship. Isabel rationalized it as being respectful of her mother and her aunt, Mariella’s mother, but also promised herself she would be careful how close they got. Still, by the end of a few weeks, it was almost like they were back to where they were before.

Whenever their conversation veered in the direction of Larry, one of them would change the topic. Isabel did it because she was glad she could reconnect with her cousin and didn’t want to ruin things, and Mariella because, as it turned out, it just wasn’t time yet.

When Isabel talked to Larry, she never mentioned Mariella. She knew he would be upset. Her plan was to talk about it during his next visit. She figured in person it would be easier to make him understand. So when he asked her if she had talked to her cousin, she would say something like, “Don’t worry so much,” or, “I’m doing what you told me to do-being in charge of my life.” If he realized she was evading his question, he never said anything.

He was scheduled to come back near the end of March, but like that previous September, he had to postpone because of work. Only this time instead of a week, it was a whole month.

It was exactly what Mariella had been waiting for.