The Weight of Gravity (33 page)

Max walked to the windows.  A heavy rain
and thick fog obscured his view of the park. Darkness descended early onto the streets and avenues below. He sat at the computer again.

E.  Nice to hear from you.  Yes, I’ve written to Doris, but only once, I’m afraid. 
I wish she was as adventurous as you are about expanding her computer skills.  I don’t mind writing snail mail, but this is so much more convenient.  I will call Doris tonight.  Are you well?  How are the counseling sessions with Garner?  How is Jay?  It’s raining in NY today.  Take care. - Max.

He held his finger over the send button, then moved to the delete button and tapped until the message was erased.  He left the apartment and took a cab to the agency, the latest chapters tucked tightly under his arm.

“You have more?  Damn, this one is coming out fast, isn’t it?”

“It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever written, Peter.”  Max tossed the folder onto his desk.  “I’ll wrap this draft by next week and you can pass the whole thing along to the editors.”

“Editors finished the first chapters.  Publisher is anxious to rush it to the shelves.  I think this one will be big, Max.  Maybe the biggest seller you’ve ever had, if that’s possible.  Film rights may sell before it reaches the stores, too.  Hillary’s doing the negotiations.”  Peter picked up the folder and took the pages out.  “Looks good, Max.  I had doubts at first about yo
ur running away to Cottonville…”

“Cottonwood.”

“... but it seems to have done you good.  You look healthier.  Are you happier?”

“I’m fine, Peter.  I have to run.  I’ll have more pages in a day or two.”

“Good work, Max.” 

He called Doris when he got home.  “Are you doing okay, lady?”

“I’m fine.  Unless you knew better, you couldn’t tell I had a stroke.  I loved your letter.  Been meaning to write back, but all I had to report was that everyone missed you at the bar-b-cue.  Your visit made quite an impression … stirred up things in this town, if you know what I mean.  We could use more Max Rosens around here.”

“Hey, have you thought about buying a computer?”

“What do I need with a computer, Max?”

“We could send e-mail back and forth.”
              “That sounds nice.”

“No, listen.  I’m going to arrange it ... if you don’t mind.  I want to hear from you and that’s the easiest way to write these days.”

Next morning, Max asked Marcie to order a top-of-the-line desktop computer delivered to Doris.  In her usual comprehensive way, Marcie arranged for the local computer store in Cottonwood to send someone out to the ranch to set it up and to get Doris online.  She spoke to Doris, as well, to set up the appointment.

“She’s nice, Max.  She’s your mother?”

“Stepmother, but we’re close.”

“Well, I like her.  Have her come for a visit.”

“Someday, Marcie.  Thanks for your help in getting her set up with the computer.  And remind me to give you a raise.”

“Be still my heart.  Don’t jest, Max Rosen.”
              “I’m serious.  I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I appreciate what you do for me.  Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever fully
realized
how much you do for me.  I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve taken you for granted.  I’m lucky to have you as an assistant ... a partner.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Tell my accountant to give you a raise.”

“How much?”
              “Substantial, if this book sells.”

              On Saturday, Max visited Zabar’s and then met Caroline in the park for lunch.  She was dressed to the extreme, as usual.  She was very New York, he often thought, pretentious without being too obnoxious about it.  He loved her the way he loved the City.  The two – City and Caroline – complemented each other.

             
“Have you missed me, Max?  I’ve missed you.  I haven’t seen you since our dinner engagement.  Thought you might have headed back to the hills.  You’re not planning to run away again, are you?”

             
“No.  I’ll go back for visits, but I won’t be running away again.”

             
“Good.  My life is shitty enough most days without losing good friends like you.”

             
“Is that what we are, Caroline, good friends?”

             
“At least.  I’ve invited you to kick our relationship into a higher gear, but you keep putting it in reverse.  Oh, how funny.  I made a joke, didn’t I?”

             
“Maybe I haven’t been ready for commitment, until now,” he told her.

             
“Really.  Well, then I’m glad you went on your little trip.  About time you got serious about something.  Particularly if that something is me.”

             
She placed the food he’d bought at Zabar’s on the blanket and opened two mini bottles of cabernet.  Somehow, Max thought, Caroline had a gift for looking natural while dressed elegantly for a picnic in the park.  Anyone else in her clothes would look ridiculous in this setting.  Caroline was definitely upper class.

             
“Caroline, tell me something.  What do you like about me?  I’m not that easy to be around.  I don’t like parties and you do.  I don’t like traveling and you do.  I’m not a socialite and you are.  So why are you interested in me ‘kicking our relationship into a higher gear?’”

             
“Oh, Max.  You can take the boy out of the country, but not the country out of the man, or something like that.  From the day I learned you grew up in Smallville, USA, I’ve understood you better.  We don’t have to like the same things or do the same things.  That’s not what a relationship is about.”

             
“What is a relationship about?  Tell me.”

             
She seemed to fumble for the answer.  It was obviously easier for her to make a statement like that then it was to explain it.  “It’s about ... about ... commitment, love, sex occasionally, but not too often to dull the senses.  It’s about doing things together like paying the rent and ordering up the groceries, tipping the doorman during the holidays and stuff like that.”

             
“You know, Caroline.  I think you’d make a great wife.”

             
“Is that a proposal, Max?”  She elegantly sipped her wine.

             
“Maybe it’s a preview to a proposal, or a prologue.  How’s that for a New York answer?  Will you come home with me tonight?”

             
“Now,
that’s
a proposal.  I’ve missed that part of you too, Max.  You’re a hell of a lover, best I’ve ever had, perhaps.  You should be flattered.  I’m half-heartedly embarrassed to admit I’ve had a few men … and two women.  Does that shock you?  I guess that’s important in a marriage, too ... good sex.”

             
“Just come home with me tonight.  We’ll negotiate this relationship another time.  How’s your salmon salad?”

             
“Dry.  How’s your Greek?”

             
“Not bad.”

             
“See,” she said, delightedly.  “We make a great couple.  Stimulating conversation and everything.”

             
“I’ve missed you too, Caroline.  There’s no one like you in ... Smallville.”

             
“I hope not.”  She checked her makeup before picking up her fork and continuing to eat.  “You never told me if you met any special women while you were away.”

             
“Special?”

             
“I’m not talking about family, like your stepmother ... Carol.”

             
“Doris.”

             
“Yeah, you can’t count her.  Anyone else catch your eye out there in the desert?”

             
“’Catch my eye’?  Not sure what you mean.  I met a young woman who runs a contracting company.”

             
“How charming … was she pretty?”

             
“Attractive.  We became friends … nothing more.  I also renewed a friendship with a woman I knew in high school.”

             
“Really … your high school sweetheart?  Was she your
first
, Max?”

             
“First what?”
              “That’s sweet.  Never mind.  Is she coming to New York to visit you?”

             
“No, I don’t think so.  She’s married, with a teenage son.”

             
“An honest-to-god provincial, small-town honey.”

             
“She plays a wonderful piano.”

             
“Probably gives school kids private lessons in her home and everything.”  She giggled.

             
“As a matter of fact ...”

             
“Oh, Max, that is too much.  Did you two daddle each other while you were there?  Should I be jealous about any of these country cousins?”

             
“Daddle?”

             
“Dear Max, you can be so incredibly cute.”

             
“Can we get off the subject of my experiences in Cottonwood?  I love being back in the City.  I love my life here and I love being with you.  You’re a wonderful person.  I’m a lucky man.”

             
“Yes you are, Max, and I love you, too.”

             
When Max got home and opened his email, he found the first note from Doris.

             
Hello, son.  Not sure I’m doing this correctly.  Dwight from the computer store showed me how to send mail, but I haven’t heard from anyone yet, so I’m not sure I’m doing it right.  Don’t really have anyone to write.  Just you.  I sent a note to Dwight; he was here at the time though, so I haven’t heard from him yet.  Hope you’re well.  That Marcie sure is sweet.  Tell her hi.  This computer is very pretty.  Thank you.  Bye, bye.

             
He hit the REPLY button.

Dear Doris - thanks for your note.  I got it fine.  Write whenever you’d like and I’ll respond.  I’m on the computer every day, but I don’t always have time.  Marcie said you were nice, too.  I rely a lot on her to keep my business affairs straight.  She’s a keeper.  Love you.  -Max.

              As he pushed the SEND button, Max saw another note come through --- this one from “[email protected].”

             
Max – are you there?  Did you get my note?  I don’t know why I feel the need to write, or why I’m anxious to hear from you.  Maybe you’re reluctant to write because you don’t know what’s happening here.  So I’ll tell you.  Garner and I have started divorce proceedings. 

Max go
t up from the computer without finishing reading her note.  He walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.  It was cold, left over from the last pot Marcie brewed before she left three hours earlier.  He didn’t mind cold coffee, but it was also stale.  He decided in the spur of the moment to walk to the Starbuck’s at the end of the block.

With venti latte in hand, the thick collar of his navy cardigan pulled up to his ears in defiance of a late afternoon chill, he
crossed the crowded street and took the first entrance into the Park.  He planned to walk as far south as the Sheep Meadow and Columbus Circle before heading home, but after circling the obelisk behind the museum, he sat on a bench beneath a tall poplar tree at the edge of the Turtle Pond.  Belvedere Castle rose above him on the other side of the water.  The Delacorte Theatre was a short distance to his right.  

And, Erika i
s getting a divorce, he thought.  There it was, his chance perhaps to turn back time, to recover what he’d lost because he’d been too young to fully appreciate what it meant to be with her.  But if he’d learned anything in his short visit to Cottonwood, it was that he couldn’t recapture something from so long ago.  What he and Erika shared as teenagers would forever stay locked in another time, wrapped up in ribbons of perfect innocence and youthful discovery.  He understood, now, that what made that time so special was that it was, by nature, tenuous and fleeting.  There was no going back, but that was a good thing, he now believed.  Erika would be a single woman again, but it was a different Erika, and he was a different Max.  If they were going to ever be together, they’d have to start all over.

His
mind was quiet, then.  Darkness set in around him.  He could feel the cool air rising off the pond.  A breeze rustled the leaves over his head, sounding very much like the thick, towering cottonwoods on his father’s ranch.