The Weight of Gravity (32 page)

“Let’s see you get out there and do that,” Cindy challenged Max when she returned to the table.

“Tried it once and ended up on my butt.”

Staring at
Mel and Shane on the dance floor made Max feel like a voyeur.  It was like watching two lovers giving and taking from each other, both lost in the music.  Their bodies moved in perfect unison.  He held her close, urging her body one way, then the other.  She gave willingly, letting him set the pace of their lovemaking.  Shane stared seductively down into the nape of her neck as she rested her head on his chest.  He pulled, and she followed.  He turned, and she followed.  Slow country swing was an act of seduction, Max decided.

Everyone said their ‘goodbyes’ in the parking lot when the evening was over.  Max watched Shane walk Mel to his truck, touching the small of her back along the way, holding the door open and helping her into the cab.  She s
cooted halfway over in the seat so that they were sitting side-by-side when Shane climbed behind the wheel.

“Noticing a lot, aren’t you, son?”

“Late night for you, isn’t it, Doris.”  He held the Jaguar door for her.

              Doris was standing at the kitchen sink the next morning when Max wrapped his arms around her.  “It’s time, lovely lady.”

             
“Time for what, son?”

             
“Time to go.”

             
“To go?  But the Pie Paper bar-b-cue is this afternoon.  You’re my date.”

             
“Donny will take you.”  He stepped away and sat with his coffee at the table.  “This is a good time to make my exit.  I have a strong start on the novel, and my agent is bugging me to get back to New York and pitch it to the publishers.”

             
“Oh, Max.”

             
“You’ve been wonderful, Doris.  I promise not to wait another twenty-four years.  Besides, I want you to visit me in the City.”

             
“I can do that.”  She sat at the table across from him.  “What do you want me to tell everyone at the Pie Paper Ranch?  They’ll all want to know where you are.”

             
“Tell them I went home.  No, that’s not right.  Tell them I had to get back to the City on business.  Tell them I’ll be back to visit.”

             
“Any special messages for anyone in particular?”

             
“Yes, tell Erika ... if she’s alone ... that I’m sorry I didn’t see her again, but she should call me anytime.  Tell Mel that I appreciate everything she taught me.”

             
“You’re going to miss some fine skeet shooting, horseshoes and damn good bar-b-cue beef.  They put on a great shindig out there every year.”

             
“I’ll try to make it next time, okay?”

             
Max loaded his car, and came back into the house where Doris was waiting.  He held her at arm’s length, then embraced her warmly.  “I’ll miss you most of all,” he whispered.  “Thanks, Mom.”

             
She followed him to the front porch.  “Max, did you resolve anything … coming back here?” He sensed that it was a question that she’d wanted to ask for some time now.  It was a chance to put a period, maybe an exclamation point on his long journey back to Cottonwood.  He turned to face her.

             
“I’ve changed, if that’s what you mean.  I learned things about my father that helped me to understand him better and to accept him for the way he was.  I also met some nice people.  And I closed the door on Erika … I think.”

             
“You’re not sure?”

             
“Will I ever be?  I have too much emotion invested in that … whatever it is.”

             
He didn’t look back until the Jaguar reached the end of the drive.  In the rearview, he saw her standing on the porch -- just the same as the day he arrived. 
Goodbye, Cottonwood.
 

Chapter 41
– Erika

              “You’re joking, surely.”

             
“Nah, Cindy.  It’s the truth.  Max hit the road this morning,” Doris told her.  “He should be crossing the state line by now.  He’s driving back to Huntington Beach tonight, then flying to New York tomorrow.  That’s what he said.”

             
“Damn, I’m gonna miss him bad.”

             
“You and me both, darlin.”  Clay wrapped his arm around his wife.

             
“He said to tell all of you goodbye and that he’d be back to visit.  Said it was important to get back for business and that he was sorry he couldn’t make the bar-b-cue.”  Doris saw Clay looking over her shoulder.  She turned to see Erika standing there, drink in hand, staring.

             
“Max left?”  The glass nearly slipped from her grasp.

             
Cindy took Erika’s arm.  “But he’ll be coming back to visit,” she said.

             
“He also told me to tell you to call him whenever you wanted,” Doris told her.

             
“What’s that?”  Erika felt Garner press up against her back.  “What did I just hear, sweet’ems.”

             
Cindy spoke first.  “Hell, we were just saying that this year’s bar-b-cue seems even bigger than last year.  Don’t you think so, Garner?”

             
“Maybe, yeah,” he said, looking around, sipping his drink.

             
“Yeah, I think it is,” Clay said, stepping up to his wife.  “Looks like everyone in Cottonwood came out.  Shit, we better get in line for the beef or it’ll be gone for sure, Cin.”

             
“Where’s the big shot writer, Doris?”

             
“He went back to New York, Garner.”

             
“Really.  That’s a shame.  I’m sure lots of people here wanted to see him.”  He wrapped his arm roughly around Erika.  “Ain’t that right, dear.”

             
Erika was sure that Doris could see how defeated and empty she felt.  Their eyes met, but only for a fleeting moment of recognition.

“Don’t fret.  He’ll be back, Garner,” Doris said
, while staring at Erika, and then she walked away.

             
Erika saw Doris join Mel and Shane, who were watching the skeet competition.  The two women then walked away together. 
She’s probably telling Mel about Max’s departure.  Not happy news for anyone, except maybe my husband.
  Erika turned to see Garner winking and raising his glass toward one of the young paralegals from his office.

             
Shane won the skeet competition.  Garner drank until his voice rose to a shout.  Donny ate the most food and everyone complimented Doris’ cherry pies.  She brought four.  The Pie Paper ranch-hands put on a small rodeo with bull riding and calf roping. 

The evening came to a close with a small circle of friends sitting around the bonfire.  The last time Erika saw Garner he was walking out by the stables with the paralegal. 

“Business, honey.  We have business to discuss.  I gotta keep working if you’re going to keep spending, if you know what I mean,” he’d said to her as he walked away.

“Awfully quiet around here,” Clay said.

“Sure was neat having a celebrity in Cottonwood,” Cindy said.

             
“I miss Max,” Donny said, and no one added more to his sentiment. 

Erika suddenly felt as if everyone was staring at her.  She stood.  “Time to take my husband home before he falls in the horse manure … again.”

Their laughter followed her as she walked toward the stables.

Chapter 42 - Max
 

             
Marcie was waiting at the curb when Max walked out of the terminal.

             
“I could have taken a cab into the City.”

             
“Just as easy for me to pick you up.  I missed you, Max.”

             
“Missed you too.”  He could see his reflection in her saucer-sized sunglasses.  “Your glasses weigh more than you do,” he’d often joked.  She was dressed in a dark suit over a bright purple silk blouse.  Even in heels she wasn’t five feet tall.  Her hair was primarily auburn, a natural color, but tinged with blue and reddish streaks.

             
“I thought I should tell you first hand that Peter’s threatening to drop you from the agency.” Marcie strained to see over her Toyota steering wheel as they pulled out onto the expressway.

“That won’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause I have a new book for him.”

“Oh, really?”

“I’ll let you see the draft chapters when we get to the apartment.”

“What’s it about?” she asked when they crossed Amsterdam and Seventy-first, at the Broadway intersection.

“It’s about a man who goes home and finds himself.”

“Oooo, that’ll knock Peter’s socks off.”

“Don’t joke.  It’s my best work.  You’ll see.”

The umbrella she brought turned inside out in the wind when he stepped up onto the curb in front of his building.  “I’ll take a look at the new book tomorrow, Max, if you don’t mind.  I’m late for a date with Pauley.”

“You and Pauley back together?”

“Didn’t I tell you?  I’ll give you details later.”

“Welcome home, Mr. Rosen.”  The doorman took his bags from the trunk.  “I’ll have Kenny help you get these upstairs.”

“Thanks, but I got it, Charles.”

There were fresh flowers on the dining room table and in the living room.  Marcie even put two yellow roses in a vase in the bathroo
m.  The smells throughout the apartment were wonderfully familiar.  It felt good to be home.  What struck him most, though, was the stark contrast between this place that had been his home for over a decade and the world of Cottonwood.

The mounds of mail were sorted and stacked in the office – personal, business, junk.  Even his answering machine had been cleaned and a list of the calls – names, dates and numbers -- was neatly typed out.  Marcie was good, no doubt, and Max had come to rely heavily on her assistance in his affairs.  He perused the mail and phone calls, but decided to wait a day before acting on any of it.  He took a cab to La Fortuna on Seventy-first for his favorite New York cuisine and was home early to write.

It was several days before he returned the phone calls and cut the mail down to a manageable size.  Over the next two weeks, Max had lunch with friends and accepted an invitation from Caroline, the last woman he’d dated, to have dinner with her and her associates.  She accompanied him back to the penthouse, but he convinced her he was still adjusting to being back at work and was too tired for extra curricular activities.

“Call me, darling.  Soon, before I have my hair done again.  I was lucky this week and got a good cut and style at
The Drawing Room
in Soho.  Most of their stylists are wonderful, you know, but they can have their good days and bad days.  I caught them on a good day, so make reservations somewhere nice … the
Rainbow Room
perhaps … or
Tavern on the Green
this time … and call me,” she said as the elevator doors closed.

On a Tuesday morning, three weeks after coming home, Max found, among the dozens of e-mails in his inbox, a message from “[email protected].”

Max, where do I begin?  First, I hope you don’t mind that I wrote.  And, bear with me because I’m just learning to use this computer, even though we’ve owned it for two years.  I’m thinking about taking a class at the JC on computer skills.  What do you think?  Do you like my address name?  Just for you, Max.  Anyway, I’ve entered the cyber world.  Aside from e-mail I sent to my bank, yours is the first personal note I’ve written.  I hope this reaches you.  I got your address from your business card.  Doris had it.  Okay, where do I begin?  I wrote that already, didn’t I?  Sorry.  Life in Cottonwood goes on.  I’m not sure how much you want to know, now that you’re back in your life in the City.  Everyone misses you, especially Donny and Doris, I think.  I saw them both the other day.  She said she got a letter from you.  That was nice.  She’s the one who suggested I write to you.  I mean, I wanted to write, but wasn’t sure what to say.  Still don’t know what to say.  Are you well?  How is your writing on the new novel?  Please write me if you wish.  I miss talking to you.  E.