The Weight of Gravity (37 page)

             
It was the most suggestive note he’d sent Erika, but it was his mood in the early morning hours.  He wanted her to know how he felt and, in truth, he hadn’t been totally honest.  He missed her.  He sat back in his chair and listened to the hall clock, anticipating when it would play the gentle chimes that he rarely heard anymore.  The dim recessed nightlights scattered throughout the room accentuated the rich red veins in the mahogany floor.  Suddenly, he felt incredibly lonely, but he also hoped that Caroline would not return to the apartment.  He was certain that her presence could do nothing to make him feel better.

             
When the first light came through the windows, he decided to go into the Village.  He’d be standing at the door with the Sunday New York Times under his arm when Starbucks opened.  No phones or computers today.  This is a day for galleries and museums, he thought, as he showered and dressed.

             
The air was sharp with the promise of a biting winter that would chill the asphalt, and freeze the steel and marble facades.  The holidays were his favorite time in New York City.  He didn’t even mind when it snowed.  The colorful decorations along the streets and in the stores were honest celebrations of the human spirit.  The City came alive this time of year.  He liked reading the hand-addressed party invitations with their embossed gold trumpets and winged angels.  It was not his personal faith, but Max enjoyed seeing jovial people decked in holiday colors; the bright red dresses and ties, the faux fur collars and brass-buttoned suit jackets.  Even the food served at these holiday parties was decorative, spicy and rich.  Alcohol consumption was mandatory, whether straight up, or hidden in sweet, creamy eggnog.  Wines were the most expensive labels and everyone was in good spirits.  It was a season when everyone and everything was decorated in wondrous colors; a time when holiday music was on nearly every corner, and coming out of the speakers in every store and restaurant.  He liked the holidays and they were just around the corner.

             
Max was certain Caroline would be looking for him when he returned home late in the day.  There were three phone messages, but none from Caroline.  He called her apartment, but the answering machine picked up.  Max opened his computer.  There was only one new email.

             
Dear Max – Loved your note.  I can’t wait to visit New York City some day – soon I hope.  Just let me know when you’re free.  My time is very open these days.  I finished my computer class at the JC and with the holidays approaching my private piano students will be going on vacation with their parents.  Nothing to do but shop for gifts for the ladies at the beauty shop – and visit a good friend in New York.  Thanks for the smiley face, but don’t feel you have to put them in your notes.  Your words are enough for me.  Always were – always will be.  Regarding the hardships in my life this year, that’s all pretty much behind me.  I have weak moments – not of regret, but of sadness about the choices I’ve made and the things I’ve lost.  Screwed it up pretty good, you know?  I’m at the point emotionally where I wonder why I ever married Garner and why we stayed together for so many years.  As I told you that night at Miriam’s, I’m certain there was love in our marriage in the beginning, but I’m also convinced it never went as deep as our feelings – you and I -- for each other.  That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.  Jay had to be the reason I stayed married to Garner, but you’ve heard me say that before, haven’t you?  Jay is gone too, I think.  That saddens me most of all.  He’s asked to stay with his grandparents in Colorado for the rest of this school year.  I feel like he’ll never come home.  Without question, the best moments of my marriage were when I was raising Jay.  His birth gave me true purpose.  Now, sadly, I think that time is over.  Kids come home again, don’t they … when the realities of life hit them hard?  I dream of the day he returns.  Jay knows how much I love him.  This will be an incredibly difficult holiday, but please don’t feel sorry for me.  Most days I’m happy, and my life is a thousand times better now than before your ... all too brief ... visit to Cottonwood.  I will be forever grateful for your visit.  It helped me see my life more clearly.  It gave me perspective. Regrets are ridiculous wastes of emotion, but your visit helped me realize that not leaving Cottonwood years ago and being with you was a mistake.  I sacrificed myself in other ways, too … particularly my love for music and the piano.  You believed in me, but I didn’t believe in myself.  Losing you a second time was just as painful as the first.  I will never blame you for my mistakes, Max.  The memories of our time together are precious … always will be.  I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but none bigger than losing you.  Unfortunately, I didn’t come to any of this realization until my marriage soured, I allowed myself to have an affair and … most sadly, I lost my son.    Visit New
York, you say?  Yes, I’d love to.  What will make it particularly wonderful is having someone like you – a true New Yorker – showing me the sights.   Are you sure it will be all right with your fiancée, Caroline?  I don’t want to upset her.  BTW, I’ve noticed several people carrying your novels around with them.  Maybe your visit caused a run on the bookstore.  I think your agent is right … people will buy your collection.  Everyone in Cottonwood will read the new novel when you finish it, certain that you’re writing about them.  Miss you, Max.  Love – E.

             
He put soup on the stove before writing back.

             
Dear Erika – Congratulations on finishing the computer class.  I can’t imagine you doing anything but playing the piano and teaching.  You shouldn’t be sad about the choices you made in life.  If you listen to Doris, she’d tell you that it’s impossible to make a wrong choice.  Not sure that’s true.  We all make decisions we regret, right?  I’m pleased to know that my returning to Cottonwood after so many years didn’t cause you even greater heartache.  Please come to New York some day soon.  This time of year is my favorite in the City.  It can wash your blues away.  Don’t worry about Caroline.  She has friends of her own and ... well, I’m not certain we’re going to survive as a couple anyway.  I might be looking for another girlfriend soon.  Do you have any recommendations ;)?  The holidays can be tough, can’t they?  I leave in two days for California.  I’m certain my representatives will not schedule a stop in Cottonwood.  You’d have to meet Marcie and me in LA or Seattle or Denver or Chicago to get your personal copies signed – just kidding.  I’ll send you the collection.  It would be hard to find time if you visited me on the road.  I’m back in New York City on the thirtieth of the month.  Anytime after that date would be best.  I can’t wait to show you the sights.  I know you’ll love it here.  When I spoke to Doris yesterday, she said she saw you at the theater.  She said you were with a girlfriend.  I assume it was Miriam.  Has she ever forgiven you for using her house that night?  Seems like forever since I’ve seen you.  Love you, too.  -- Max.

Chapter 51
– Erika

             
Dear Max – Got your note last night, but haven’t had a moment until now to write.  It’s not that my life is so busy, quite the contrary.  Several things came up today that kept me running.  When it snows, as they say, right?  Best part of the day was that Jay called …

             
“How are your grandparents?”

             
“They’re fine.  So, can I have the money?’

             
“I haven’t heard from you in three weeks, Jay.  It’d be nice to hear how you’re doing and whether your grandparents are still comfortable with you living there.”

“I’
m fine … they’re fine.  Now, will you send the money, or do I have to call dear old Dad directly.  Got his girlfriend on the phone the last time I called him.  He was in the shower, I think.  She said her name is Connie and she’s anxious to meet me.”

“I’ll wire the money this morning, Jay
.”

… He needed me to send some things to him in Colorado.  I think he’s nesting up there now, giving credence to my earlier prediction that my son’s probably gone for good.  I also had to drop off some clothes at the cleaners.  I saw Melody Kristoffersen and her grandmother coming out of the flower shop next door …

             
“You look good, Erika.” Mel said, giving her a hug.

             
“Thank you.  Settling into my new lifestyle, you know?  Still too much in my closet that requires special handling.”  Erika laughed and tossed her dry cleaning on the counter.

             
“I haven’t heard from Max in a while.  You?” Mel asked.

… I told her that we e-mail each other occasionally, but that I hadn’t heard your voice since you left Cottonwood.  Why is that, Max?  I don’t mind that we haven’t spoken on the phone.  Your written words were always just as powerful, sometimes touching my heart more deeply than if you’d spoken them to me.  Does that make sense?  I also had shopping to do.  Cupboards were getting bare.  You probably know first hand how hard it is to cook for one.  It’s a new experience for me.  I’ll wait until you’re back in New York, as much as I’d love to see you sooner.  Please write me when you’re on tour.  I love reading your notes.  Yes, I was with Miriam at the theater when we ran into Doris.  And Miriam has never minded that we used her house that night.  She’s the best!  My closest, dearest friend.  I’d be a wreck if she hadn’t been there to hold my hand on so many tough, lonely nights.  You have to get to know her.  If you think I play the piano well, you should hear Miriam.  She’s talented and beautiful ... and fortunate to love a man who loves her passionately in return.  Like your Cindy and Clay, George and Miriam give me hope that it’s possible to be with someone who completes you, someone with whom you are sure your hearts beat as one.  Does that sound silly?  Please travel safe.  I’m sure Marcie will take care of you.  Write.  Love,  -- Reekie.

             
She closed the computer connection and began dinner.  It was early evening when she sat on the garden porch swing.  She cradled a glass of merlot in her palms as she rocked.  Two evenings ago her flowers and plants froze, and wilted for the season.  Pedals now floated on the surface of the pool like confetti. 
It makes me sad to see the garden die.  Yard service planted too many perennials.  I’ll have them plant more annuals in the spring.  I need color in my life.

             
She stayed until darkness reached the garden wall, then went inside.  Walking through shadows, Erika came to the piano room.  She sat and played
Lilacs
by Rachmaninoff until the notes began to melt into each other and streak down the music sheet.  She walked to the computer room, then, and sent Max another note.

             
My dearest Max - It’s evening here.  I know I wrote earlier, but I have a confession and a question.  Have I ever told you what frightens me most?  Silence.  Silence frightens me more than anything else … except losing my son, perhaps.  That’s a nightmare of a different color.  But silence is my constant horror.  Any noise, a humming refrigerator, or a dishwasher, even a clock ticking in the darkness, is enough to chase the monster away.  So, I leave the television on a lot, even if it’s in the next room and music plays nearly every minute of the day on the house intercom.  Does that sound silly?  Just thought it was time you knew this idiosyncrasy about your former girlfriend.  I didn’t discover this fear until we moved to the country, and I woke one night and there was absolutely no sound in the house.  In that moment, I learned that when there was absolutely no sound around me, I could hear my own voice screaming in my ears.  Here’s my question …what frightens you, Max Rosen?  Love you very much, -- Reekie.

Ch
apter 52 - Max

              Marcie and Max prepared to fly west on Tuesday morning.  She came over the night before and helped him pack.  Caroline showed up at eight and said she needed a “heart-to-heart” with Max before he started his tour. 

“Come with us,” he’d said to her.

“Really, Max, do you think I’d enjoy chasing you around to all those bookstores, sitting and watching you write your name a thousand times to a bunch of drooling fans?  Get real, honey!”

“We’d have some time to visit galleries and you could shop while I’m working.”

“The shopping and galleries don’t get any better than here, Max.  You know that.”

It isn’t about shopping and galleries, but you already know that
, Caroline.  I can’t help but think you have other reasons for not wanting to go, but you’re not telling me what they are.

             
Marcie left soon after, leaving Max and Caroline to enjoy the Chinese food she’d ordered in from
Long Wongs
in the Village.

             
“Wine?” he asked.

             
“Of course.”

             
They sat in the dining room.  He lit candles.  “I’ll miss you.”

             
“You, too, Max.”