The Weight of Gravity (36 page)

She only held her finger over the delete button for a second, and once again decided to leave it as she originally wrote it.

Not sure I have her beauty or personality.  Nice, though, that you might think so.  Can I ask you a personal question? 

Why not, she thought.  Her note was already into dangerous territory.

That night at Miriam’s house ... what did it mean to you?  I mean, I know it was important ... to both of us ... but do you think badly of me because of that?  Do you think badly of me because of Darrell?  I guess that was two questions.  Please write soon.  Love your notes.  – E.

              Max opened a note from Doris.

             
Yes, Max, I’ve seen Erika.  She looks good.  I think she’s getting on with her life.  Told Mel you said to say ‘hello.’  She says ‘hi’ back at you.  The housing project at Winberg Wells is going up fast.  Lots of new homes and new people coming into Cottonwood.  Donny got a new pickup truck.  He said the old one was fine, but I convinced him that he deserved to drive something new.  Mel got him a job at the construction site, so he’s making good money.  Clay is still the foreman out there.  Me, you ask?  I’m doing fine.  The bazaar was a big hit and we raised more money than last year.  Thank you for inviting me to come and visit.  I will do that some day, but right now I have too much to do around here.  Keep your nose clean, son.  Call me sometime. – Love, Doris.

             
Then he responded to Erika.

             
Dear Erika – The invitation is always open for you to visit my City.  I’m certain the book tour does not include Cottonwood, but please write to me while I’m on the road.  I’d love to hear from you.  I’m still struggling with the final chapters of the new novel.  I keep writing it, over and over, and it just doesn’t seem right.  I think I’m forcing things.  I need to let the story tell itself, maybe.  The pickings of eligible men in Cottonwood may be slim, but I’m sure you’ll find someone someday ... don’t give up hope.  On a more important note, I don’t think ill of you, and certainly not for what happened at Miriam’s house.  That evening affirmed what I’ve believed all these years – that you and I once shared a great love.  I’m convinced that few are fortunate to experience the depth of feeling and passion that you and I did.  Powerful stuff, but very dangerous when emotions run that deep.  That evening taught me that my memory of us as teenagers was not a dream, it was very real.  I was certain before that night – and for many years – that my memory of us, as kids, was clouded by youthful exuberance and the thrill of experiencing a first love.   Think ill of you?  Impossible.  I could never think badly of you.  You are, simply stated, my first love.  We will never find that again, and we need to celebrate that we were fortunate to find it at all.  I’m convinced that we shared something that few ever have in their lives.  We’re lucky, you and I, in that respect.  No reason to be sad about the
way things turned out, or the years lost not being together.  Things are what they are.  Could we appreciate what we had then if we’d never been apart?  I wonder.  My thoughts of you are not critical or judgmental in the least.  I have nothing but the deepest admiration for you ... as an artist, as a woman, as the one true love of my life. Fondest – Max.
  

              Max was in the groove.  He’d been back in New York City for three months.  His relationship with Caroline was limping along, but progressing forward enough that they were discussing moving in together.  Peter’s staff gave him a week’s notice on the tour dates and locations. 

“You really think people want to buy a collection of my novels?”

“Max, you have a new generation of readers out there.”

“Is that a subtle way of saying I’m getting old?”

“This is your first collection.  Readers who loved your books years ago will want to have the pair.  Trust me.  And it will be great advance promo for the new work.”

He and Marcie were scheduled to fly to Los Angeles on Friday.  There was a book signing at Barnes and Noble in Anaheim on Saturday morning and another in Pomona on Saturday afternoon.

              Max spoke with Melody before the trip.  She’d called the day before just as he and Caroline were headed out for the evening.  He promised to call her back the next morning, but it was early evening before he had a quiet moment.

             
“How’s the new housing development?” he began.

             
“Couldn’t be better.  Your buddy Clay is an outstanding foreman.  We have fourteen sites under construction and a third of them sold.  Don’t know where they’re coming from or what they’re doing when they get here, but our prospect researchers were right ... they’re coming to Cottonwood.  New business is sprouting in the suburbs.  Retirement folks are bringing in the health industry.  The land-rakers have slowed down considerably since they got bad press in the capital.  New laws are coming down to protect the homeowners.”

             
“How about you, Mel … are you happy?”

             
“You know me, Max.  I never have a bad day.”  Both were silent.  “Ask,” Mel finally said.

             
“Ask what?”

             
“What’s on your mind, Max?  There’s something you’re not asking me.”

             
“You know me that well?”

             
“Yes.  I even know you well enough to know that the subject is Erika.  How does she fit into your life now with … what’s her name, Caroline?  Doris told me about her.”

             
He got up from his desk and walked into the next room, and sat in his favorite leather wing chair, facing the balcony.

             
“I thought it was over with Erika, but she and I have been writing to each other … e-mail, he began.  I don’t know how I feel about that anymore.  I gave it my best shot and I lost.  But, I’m worried that my relationship with Caroline is my cowardly way of avoiding feelings I have for Erika.”

             
“What are your feelings?”  she asked, but Max didn’t answer.  “Here’s what I think, Writer Man.  You’ll never get over Erika.  That relationship was special.  It was unique … a once in a lifetime thing.  No wonder it still haunts you.  There can be Carolines and Margarets and … Sarah Jeans until the cows come home, but you’ll never find what you and Erika shared.  Here are your choices; you either let it go and discover something new, new memories, new experiences, or not.  That’s all you have to decide.  You’re stronger than you realize, but you insist on complicating your life by hanging on to something that … most likely … ain’t gonna happen.  Not the way it happened a quarter century ago.”

             
“No Melodys in the picture?” he joked.

             
“No Melodys, Max.  I love my life here.  I have no interest in living where you are, and besides, I’m saving you a ton of money on therapy.  I’m content to be your voice of reason, your friend.  I don’t want to spoil that, do you?”

             
“I guess not.  When’re you coming to visit?”

             
“I don’t want to get in the way of your main squeeze, Caroline.  Is she a serious thing?”

             
“I guess.  We’ve dated a while.  Even talked about marriage, but I’m not a young buck anymore.  You should understand.  You’ve avoided marriage.”

             
“Yeah, but we’re different people.  I’m not the romantic you are, for one thing.  You have a lot to offer someone, too.”

             
“So do you.”

             
“I like my life the way it is.  Only one serious issue for me to deal with, and that’s the business.  I’m married to Kristoffersen Contractors, and I like it that way.”

             
“Come for a visit.  I want to introduce you to Marcie, my assistant, and to Caroline.”

             
“Let me get things running on their own steam and I’ll think about it.  I called because I wanted to know if you were okay.”

             
“Saving the wounded animal again?” he asked.

             
“More like a good friend who I care a great deal about.”

             
“Thanks, Mel.”

             
“One last bit of advice, Max.  If Erika
is
reaching out, keep in mind that she’s not in the same place anymore.  Her life has changed drastically.  Her marriage is over, her son has moved away, and she’s trying to deal with a lot of guilt about her bad choices. Too, your visit probably stirred up old wounds about her decision years ago
not
to follow
her
dreams … and
not
be with the man she loved so deeply.  Don’t rationalize away how you feel about Erika now, at the one moment when you two might have a chance at happiness together.  Be honest to Caroline, and to yourself, about your feelings.  When was the last time you followed your heart?”

“Melody?”

“We became friends.  I told you about her months ago.  She was very supportive when I went home.” 
Firmer ass than yours, but she’s just a friend, Caroline.  You don’t have to worry about Mel.

“I’ll bet she was.  Tell me, what’s she look like, Max?”

“I told you she’s attractive.” 
Particularly when she’s taking a shower.  She’s-a-friend!
  “She’s very focused on her business.”

“She has her own business,” she said, rising from the couch and passing through to the kitchen.

“Her family owns it.  Mel runs it.”

“Take charge kind of girl … very nice.”  Caroline returned with a glass of wine.  “Did she take charge of you, Max?”

“Caroline, are you jealous?”

“Only a little.  I’m not worried about competition from your country cousins.  But I have to factor in that your roots were nurtured in that provincial mud.  Got to
still be a little of the bumpkin juice running in your veins.”

“That’s unkind.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to insult you, dear.”

“I’m not insulted, but aren’t you being snobbish.”

              “Stop scolding me!  I didn’t mean to insult you or your little friends.  I could care less what you did with all your Daisy Mae gals in Cottonville.  Good grief!  If you like it better rolling in hay stacks, then we can drive upstate some weekend and rent a barn.”

             
“
Now
you’re insulting.”  Max took a handful of contracts for speaking engagements at writers’ conferences into his office.  He turned on the computer.  Through the French doors he saw Caroline putting on her coat.  “Are we going out?”

             
“I’m going out ... with friends, the mishpocheh, remember?”

             
“Did you want me to join you?”

             
“You’ve never wanted to join our group, remember?  Too stuffy, I think you said.  No, I’m fine.  I have my special, to-myself-only company too.  Just like you.”

             
“Anyone new in your group?”  Max was suddenly curious.

             
“Yes,” she finally said, pulling a wool scarf around her neck.  “We have our first male members, Jerry and Ramon.  You’d like them, maybe.  Professionals from Wall Street, or something.”  She kissed Max on the cheek.  “Don’t worry, darling.  They don’t have your sweet ass and pleasant personality.”  She walked to the elevator and pushed the button.  “They’re also not in your income bracket.”  She stepped into the elevator and, a moment later, the door closed.

             
“Strangely, Caroline,” he said in the silence of her departure, “I wasn’t worried.”

             
Max rose in the middle of the night.  Caroline didn’t return to the apartment, so he was alone.  He went to the office.  Although he’d heard from Doris sporadically, the e-mail relationship with Erika had become regular in recent weeks.  He’d been wise, he thought, to keep this news from Caroline.  He opened the Internet, yawned and began to write.

 
             
Erika – I want you to know how much I appreciate your email.  Have I told you that before?  While I am incredibly happy here in my home in my City, I still enjoy hearing from people in Cottonwood – especially you.  I spoke with Melody Kristoffersen the other day.  She said their Winberg Wells development is developing nicely :).  I’m not one to use cutesy email signs like smiley faces, but I know you like them.  I also heard from Doris.  She said she ran into you and you look good.  This has been a tough year, hasn’t it?  I can only imagine how hard the adjustment has been for you, but I always thought of you as a strong person, so I was certain you’d land on your feet.  I’m sure that my visit to Cottonwood didn’t help matters.  I invited Mel and Doris to visit New York.  What about you?  Are you ready to see what it’s like to be surrounded by ten million people?  I know you’d love it, and I know I’d enjoy showing it to you.  Until I hear from you again, I am --- Yours, Max.