The Weight of Gravity (41 page)

             
“Are you?  I’d hoped with all my heart that you would be.”  She hesitated.  Her expression changed several times; one second she grinned and the next she had a confused, quizzical look on her face.  She knitted her brow and bit her bottom lip.  He imagined that her mind was navigating a path through uncharted territory, as if she had not thought through what might happen if she just showed up on his doorstep. “It’s just that your email ... your notes suggested you were anxious, more than anxious maybe, to see me.  Maybe I read too much into them, but I thought ...”  

He saw her take
a deep breath, and it was as if a shadow passed in front of her face, as if the light from a single candle behind her eyes slowly went out.  Max suddenly realized that he’d seen her this way only once before – over twenty years ago.  Her expression frightened him. 
Oh god.  Please don’t leave me the way I left you.

“He
ll, I don’t know what I thought,” she said finally, placing her cup shakily on the table and wiping the corner of her eyes.  “Forget it, Max!  Coming here unannounced was a bad idea.”

             
“You look wonderful.”

             
“Stop it!”

             
“You do.”

             
“I wanted to surprise you.  I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I see it was a mistake.”  She rose from the couch.  “I’m going to go.”

             
Max grimaced.  He wanted more time to prepare her for how he felt, time to plan how he would share the truth about the rising storm inside his mind, but she’d forced matters by coming unexpectedly. 

“Where will you go?” he asked.

              “Back to Cottonwood.”

             
“Tonight?”

             
“Yes.  I can make it as far as Vegas or Los Angeles.  I’ll be home by tomorrow.”  She walked to the entry, pulled her bag from against the wall and pressed the button for the elevator.

             
“Erika, please don’t go.”  He meant it, but his voice sounded hollow and unconvincing.

             
“Okay, Max, tell me you want me to stay.  Tell me I did the right thing coming here to be with you.”  He looked away.  “It took a lot of courage for me to make this trip.  I honestly thought you’d be thrilled to see me.  I was wrong.  I’m sorry.  This is all my fault.  I should have respected your wishes and waited.  Waited until … when?” she asked herself.

             
“I did want to see you, Erika.”

             
“But now you don’t?  What changed?  What did I do to make you pull away from me, after receiving your wonderful notes, asking me to come to New York?”
              “You didn’t do anything wrong, honestly.  It’s me.”

             
Her words came rapidly.  “You just changed your mind, had a change of heart?  Suddenly, you decided to back away?  No particular reason, just not interested anymore.  Is that it?”

             
“I’m not sure how to tell you ... ready to...”

“
To what! 
To give us a chance?  What is it, a fear of commitment?  That’s it, isn’t it?  You get cold feet when things get serious.  Well, screw you!  You found a way to tear us apart twenty years ago and you’re doing it all over.  I’m not going to let you hurt me again.  I survived the first go around, but I’m not as young or as strong anymore.” The elevator opened and she stepped in.  “Do me a very big favor.  Don’t come walking back into my life again, okay?  You didn’t cause me to leave Garner.  I was headed that direction before you drove into Cottonwood last summer.  So I don’t blame you for my fucked-up life.  But what I don’t get is why you’d let me believe that there might still be something between us, that we might be able to recapture something very special, something we both regret losing once, then pull it all back.”  She held her hand over her eyes, hiding the tears.  “Please don’t write or call me.”  The doors began to close.  “And stay the hell away from Cottonwood, for both our sakes.”

             
Max let her go.  When the doors close completely, he turned back into the room and sat in the overstuffed chair facing the balcony, as the lights of the City he loved grew brighter and exposed shadows throughout his apartment.

Chapter 57 - Erika

              “Damn it.  Why’d you have to cry in front of him?”

             
“Excuse me.”  The driver looked back at her.  “Kennedy, right?”

             
“Yes, please.  Kennedy Airport.”

             
“What airline and what time’s your flight?”

             
“I’m flying American and the flight isn’t for another two hours,” she lied.  She had an open-ended ticket.  Erika didn’t even know if she could get a flight going west tonight, but she had to try.  All she was sure of at the moment was that she didn’t want to stay in New York City.

             
American Airlines had one more flight headed to Los Angeles.  It’d be late, but she’d spend the night there and catch a shuttle flight into Phoenix tomorrow afternoon. 

She had an hour before her flight boarded and a lounge conveniently located directly across from the departure gate.  Erika sat at the bar and ordered wine.  Taking her first sip, she glanced at the television monitor.  She was looking at a picture of Max.  It was an entertainment news story.  “Turn it up!” she shouted at the bartender.  “Please!”

              “Our ET sources on the east coast are reporting tonight that popular novelist, Max Rosen, is seriously ill.  Reportedly, Rosen’s been diagnosed with metastatic colon cancer.  There’s no word from his spokespeople as yet, but unconfirmed accounts from medical staff say that his cancer is classified stage four, infecting his lungs and liver.  Here’s a clip from an interview with the writer two years ago, at the premiere of
Veritas
, the film based upon his best-selling novel of the same title.  Everyone at ET wishes him success as he begins his courageous battle against this terrible disease.”

             
Erika didn’t wait to watch the interview.  She rushed to the curb and hailed a cab.  Forty minutes later she raced into the apartment house.  The doorman recognized her from the earlier visit and sent her up in the elevator.  When the doors opened, the room was dark.  She stepped into the apartment and dropped her coat on the floor of the entry.

             
“Max?”  Erika walked toward the windows.  “Max, are you here?  I know, Max,” she said.  “I know why you pushed me away.  I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”  She started to cry.  “Where are you?”

             
“I’m here, Reekie.”  The voice came from the high-backed wing chair facing the windows.

             
Erika kneeled by the chair.  His face was washed in the lights of the City.  His eyes were blank, washed of all emotion.

             
“Oh, Max.  Why didn’t you tell me?”

             
He turned to look at her.  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

             
“Don’t you understand that not being with you is more painful?  I’ve had a lifetime of that sorrow.  Please don’t ask me to go back there.  Give me a day with you, and my life will be rich.  My place is here.  I can help.  I don’t want you to be alone ... ever again.”

             
“How long can you stay?”

             
“Forever.”  She wrapped her arms around his neck and sat in his lap, then laid her head on his shoulder.  “Pretty,” she said, following his stare to the windows.

             
“The best and it’s never looked better.”  He kissed her forehead.  “This will be difficult.”

             
“I know.”

             
“I may not win this race.”

             
“I know.”

             
“Are you prepared for what might happen?”

             
“No, I’m not.  I only know that I want to be with you.  I’ll take whatever time you’ll give me.  It’s time we were together, don’t you think?”

Chapter 58
– Max and Erika

The next morning Max began to show Erika his world.  They took carriage rides through the Park and around the upper West Side.  They went to the Carnegie Deli for lunch and the Rainbow Room for dinner.  He got them third row seats at a Knicks game at the Garden one evening and orchestra seats at the Met the following night.  Erika marveled at the view from the top of the Empire State Building.  It took her breath away the first morning she saw the sun rise like an enormous orange ball through the haze above Long Island.  They took the Circle Line tour around lower Manhattan from the Hudson to the East River, preferring to sit alone on the upper deck and brave the chill wind that howled up from the choppy water.

A favorite pastime became their visits to the bookstore and sharing lattés at Jamaal’s coffee counter.

“You got the sparkle, Mr. R.”

“Meaning what, Jamaal?”

“Every time you look at Erika there,” he smiled at her, “your eyes sparkle.  That’s the real thing.”

“What’s the real thing, Jamaal?” Erika
asked, playing the game.

“Love, darling.  Love, love, love.  Real love.  You souls got it in spades.  Damn stock market never been as high as you two are on each other.  Wonderful thing to see.  Don’t
you let this one get away, Mr. R., or I’ll never let you sit at my bar again.”

“Not a chance, Jamaal.”

“Ditto for me,” Erika told him, hugging Max’s arm.  

Every day was a new adventure, but their most precious moments were spent huddled on the balcony in twilight, watching the snow blanket the park.

              “I wish I’d come with you years ago,” she confessed one evening.

             
“This time right now ... with you ... will be my lifetime,” he said.  “I’m convinced that every moment before this, I was waiting for you.  Had you never come, I would’ve died a miserable man.  Now that you’re here, even if it’s only for a short time, my life is priceless and complete.  Twenty years or four months, it doesn’t matter any more.  It will be enough for me as long as we’re together.”

             
“You talk as if you’re going to die, Max.  You’re going to beat this.”

              But as time passed, the “C-monster,” as he called it, progressed unabated through his body.  Miriam sent more of Erika’s belongings to her in New York.  Max generously bought her everything else she needed.  A week turned into three, then a month, and soon they were closing in on three months together.

             
She often sat in front of the windows and read while Max worked at the computer.  He spent at least two hours each morning on the new novel.

             
“Seeing you there in the morning sunlight inspires me.”

             
“How’s it coming?” she asked, looking up from her magazine.

             
“I’m finally able to craft the final chapters.  You had a lot to do with getting me off the pot.  I struggled until you came.  Now, every word I write seems perfect.  I finally know how the story ends.”

             
“Really …. how?”

             
“It’s a secret.  You have to read the book.”

             
“That’s not fair.”

             
“Patience, Reekie.  This is my best work, and you’re woven deeply into the fabric of the story.  I want you to read it, need you to read it, but only when it’s finished.”

             
As Max’s health deteriorated, his body ever more ravaged by cancer and – ironically -- the treatments to fight the illness, Erika never left his side.  She and Marcie met his every need.  His short-term memory began to fail after the fourth chemotherapy treatment and writing became nearly impossible.  He spoke of starting a new book -- an autobiography, about his life in the City, his joy of writing and his love for only one woman, but soon he was too weak to sit at the computer for very long.