Center of Gravity

by Neve Wilder

  “I refused. He said the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “So what did he do, then?”

  “Came over one day while you were at work. Asked me not to tell you, so I didn’t. He was afraid you’d be mad, think he was meddling.” He was right. My fingers had started working themselves into a fist again, but Dad continued. “We probably sat there for four hours, shooting the shit, looking at everything. Every bank statement, every pay stub. God, I’ve never known someone so thorough.”

  That part I definitely understood. Even in the bedroom, Rob left no stone unturned.

  Dad rubbed at a smudge on the passenger window, then smiled. “He looked at all the accounts, all our debt, then helped us make a plan for…after. I guess back then it was for ‘just in case,’ but I think I knew where I was heading. College fund for Lainey. Different ways to keep my life insurance behind a tax wall so it can help your mom out for years. I didn’t know any of that stuff, Alex. I didn’t know it was possible. And it was so nice, sitting there with him with paper in my hands and a plan, not thinking I might leave all these loose ends that I didn’t know how to tie up. Like a weight off.” He paused for a breath, his gaze fastening to the windshield. “Do you know how long I’ve sat in that goddamn room just worrying about what happens to you all after I go and simultaneously wishing it would hurry the fuck up so your mom won’t have to work those shifts anymore, so you won’t—? He gave me this peace of mind and I—” Dad’s voice cracked, and he released my hand to swipe at his eyes. When he reached out again, there was a tremor in his fingers that I muffled with a gentle squeeze.

  “I’m glad, then,” I said quietly, unbuckling my seatbelt so I could move closer to him, lean up against his shoulder. I missed the weight of him, his solidness. Now he was nothing but bones wrapped in sagging skin. “We talked about you sometimes. I could tell he had a thing for you, the way he’d talk, and it bothered me at first—the age difference, you know? But I thought about when you were helping him out and after, when he’d come on the weekends, how you’d come home with that googly-eyed grin on your face. That’s why I asked. I just wanted to know. He was very subdued last time I saw him.”

  I lifted my cheek from his shoulder, asked, “When was that?”

  “A couple of weeks ago now, I guess.”

  I closed my eyes, let my cheek sink back to his shoulder. That must have been after I’d called Rob at his office. I was still digesting the fact that he’d come to visit my dad even after things had ended between us. I didn’t know how I felt about that. On the one hand it seemed…thoughtful. On the other hand, intrusive. I sighed.

  “No one fucked it up, not really. Or we both did. I don’t know. We both got in the way of ourselves somehow.”

  Dad nodded slowly. “It happens. I did that a lot until I met your mother. Didn’t want to be tied down, had it in my head that whoever I was with would end up trying to change me. Almost happened with your mother, too, but I kicked my own ass into shape, fortunately.”

  I didn’t know whose ass to kick, but it seemed pointless, now.

  “I don’t have anything to give another person right now anyway, Dad.”

  “Mm,” he gave a small grunt. “Someone you love and who loves you back? They’ll understand that. That’s all a relationship is. Give and take between two people. Sometimes you can’t do anything but take, and sometimes it’s your turn to give. In the best ones, it all evens out naturally, but sometimes it takes work to keep that balance.”

  “I’ll figure it out someday, maybe. Just not…right now.”

  Dad’s hand found the top of my knee and he spread his fingers over it, his touch warm and calming.

  “One of the best and worst parts of all of this,” he said, waving vaguely, “is how much goddamned time I’ve had to sit here and think, I mean really think about stuff, son. Jesus, talk about a blessing and a curse. All that mumbo jumbo about your life flashing before your eyes—shit, I’m ahead of the game. It’s been happening to me for months. I’ve thought about everything. The kid I called fag in sixth grade. The first girl who broke my heart. The times I was there for your mom and the times I wasn’t. The things I could’ve done better. The things I did the best I could. I’ve weighed my whole life trying to figure out the balance of things. Did I do enough? Did I do all I could? How many regrets am I leaving with?” The pressure of his hand on my knee tightened as he started to get worked up, and as if he realized it, he gave me a brief smile and patted me twice before pulling away.

  “It’s impossible. I can’t find a way to quantify my life solely in action or inaction. But the thing that keeps coming up, the things that stick with me the most are these kind of resting points, these moments that when I think of them, I feel quiet and still inside. My body stops hurting and even the fucking cancer can’t get past. This little snatch of harmony. And you know? I think I’ve had more of them than most people. They’re different things, different memories. Seeing you and Lainey for the first time in the delivery room, the second I knew I loved your mom. The first car I bought, the first engine I didn’t fuck up rebuilding. They all have a kind of gravity to them that holds me together, and all of them are connected to each other.” He paused and licked his lips, then tilted his head as he glanced out the window. “I always thought of life as this kind of constant flow of events, but it’s not. It’s more like fixed points with things flowing forward and backwards around them, this never-ending unfolding. And when I think about all of that, all of those moments I’ve had? I can’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

  He nodded, like he was satisfied with what he’d said, then let his head sink back to the headrest and closed his eyes.

  “Are you scared?”

  He shook his head, eyes still closed. “Of pain? No. That can be fixed. I’m only sad at what I’ll miss. The man you’re becoming, the woman Lainey will be. Grandkids. Fuck, grandkids—that’s a hard one to let go of.”

  My tears seeped quietly into his shirtsleeve and he settled his hand over my knee again, giving it one firm squeeze. We sat there for a long time after that without saying anything. It was unnecessary. We both knew that no matter what came in the weeks ahead, he’d said his goodbye to me.

  27

  Rob

  “I’m not even sure what strozzapreti is, but it sounds interesting. What are you thinking?” I eyed Scott skeptically above my menu where I’d been reading through detailed descriptions of seasonal dishes. The restaurant was new to both of us, which seemed fitting as we were still new to each other—at least outside of poker nights and the rooms we’d painted together in my apartment. It was on that last day, as we’d pulled tape from the window frames and picked up drop cloths from the floor, that he’d asked me out. My instinct had been to say no, but when I opened my mouth, out came a yes, and it felt like my subconscious trying to stir me into moving on after Alex. So I went into it with a degree of trust I’d never given into before.

  I liked Scott. Not with any fervency. Not the way I’d liked Alex, where I could hardly see straight when he was in the room, but in a steady way that was comfortable, that I thought I could grow into. We hadn’t slept together yet, but the few kisses and gropings that had occurred had been good. Again, not on par with Alex, but I’d resigned myself to Alex being a unique situation. Catastrophe, really. But one of my own making, and I didn’t intend to do it again if I could help it. Hence, accepting the date with Scott. Scott was considerate and seemed reliable, but was adventurous in small ways that intrigued me, like choosing dishes he had no idea whether he’d like or not, just because. I had no idea if we would work out, if I could even love him. But he was as good a start as any.

  This was, unofficially, our third date. And was, officially, the delayed celebration of my new job. My boss at Henrik & Associates had been astonished by my letter of resignation, but nothing he’d said to try to prevent me from leaving had swayed me, even as the resignation left me reeling over what I’d do next.
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  Summer had been equally flabbergasted, but it had been her idea that I should seek out a non-profit organization that could use my skills. I’d told her I wanted to feel like I was making a difference rather than just crunching numbers. After a couple of weeks of job hunting, I’d found an organization that offered free financial planning and accounting services for qualifying families and individuals in need. It was a surprisingly good fit for me. Surprising because I’d had no idea, up until helping Alex’s dad with his finances, that I’d find so much satisfaction in the one-on-one interactions that came with it. I’d already helped a young couple with a new baby make a plan for college for the man so he could get out of a dead-end job, college for their baby, and retirement savings. I’d helped a grateful woman in declining health rearrange her finances so that her disabled son would be taken care of after her passing. And I’d helped a young man riddled with debt and looming tax evasion charges consolidate his debt and make a plan to climb his way out.

  And Winslow got to come to work with me every Friday, which he loved. So even if I was uncertain about a future with Scott, I was feeling okay about everything else, and I told myself it was time to stop trying to put boundaries on my love life or lack thereof and just let it…happen.

  I read the description on the menu and smirked. “I think you’re going to regret it and end up eating half my dinner instead like last time.”

  Scott’s mouth twisted to the side as he considered. “I’ll take that chance,” he said with a grin. “Fortunately for me, you’re generous.”

  After the waitress took our orders, we toasted with a glass of cabernet and settled back in our chairs to watch the street traffic. A slow drizzle had started, which made the winter chill more biting as we’d walked over from our apartment complex.

  Scott was talking about the prospect of buying a home and selling his apartment when my phone buzzed in my pocket for the third time in a row, a rare enough occurrence that I discreetly slid it out to check the name flashing across the screen.

  Pricks of adrenaline spiked through me and I stood, excusing myself with a mindless apology.

  Heart racing, I strode from our table to the hallway that led to the restrooms. A premonitory sense of dread washed cold across the back of my neck, at war with the depressing thrill of seeing Alex’s name on the screen—I’d thought I’d at least moved beyond pathetic physical reactions, but apparently not. Regardless, there would be only one reason Alex would call me.

  I’d kept in touch with Alex’s father here and there after we’d made his financial plan, but the last time he’d called, he wasn’t doing well, and we’d both known he was close to the end. That had been two weeks ago.

  “Rob?” Alex’s voice was soft, all the vibrancy of it muted. My heart thudded and sank with certainty.

  “Alex,” I said gently. Even now, I missed saying his name. Missed it being mine to say. If it ever had been.

  Silence on the line. “Ahh,” I murmured, finding space against the wall to lean, out of the way of bustling servers. “Is he—?” I left the sentence hanging, not wanting to be too presumptuous.

  “No, not yet.” His voice was so quiet and small I wanted to cup it in my hands and warm it. “The nurse thinks soon, though. Probably tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out before I could contain it, but Alex didn’t seem to notice. “I really am. Is there anything I can do?”

  Another long pause, an audible inhale from Alex.

  “No. Thank you. I think I just wanted to tell you.”

  “I’m glad. Not glad, but you know. Your dad is a very kind man.” I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of the deep red wall in front of me and the waitress who skirted by me, and saw Alex’s face. I wished I could touch him, comfort him somehow. Thinking of the night we’d lain together on the sand, his fingers threaded through mine as I’d told him about Sean and he’d told me about his dad made me regret the times I could have been more affectionate with him and hadn’t because I’d not wanted to encourage the idea that we were anything more than sex. God, I was a fucking idiot.

  “He told me about you. That you helped. So I thought you should know.”

  I couldn’t detect any anger in his tone, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, overshadowed by his sadness. I’d made so much of keeping our lives separate and then gone and involved myself in his without asking, and though my intentions had been good, it was yet more proof of what Alex had already accused me of: thinking I knew what was best.

  “I did. I’m sorry. You probably think I overstepped my bounds, and I did.”

  “I don’t,” he said quickly, then fell silent again for a few beats before continuing. “Think that, I mean. It doesn’t matter now, but thank you for that. It had a huge impact on him. It…gave him peace of mind.” His voice cracked and he stopped speaking.

  The scent of food permeating the hallway was making me nauseated. The chatter of voices in the background seemed jarring and loud, and I wanted nothing more than to be back in the quiet of my apartment, talking to him. I pressed the pad of my thumb to my temple, where the beginnings of a headache formed.

  “I’m glad for that, then. And if there’s anything I can do, I’ll try to help however I can. Within whatever parameters you want me to, Alex. I hope you know that.”

  “I know.” He paused. “Where are you right now?”

  “I’m at dinner. Out. But I can call you later if you want me to—need me to—like before.” I peered around the corner of the wall. The waitress stood in front of our table, leaning over Scott’s shoulder as they conferred over the menu. “Actually, I can probably leave now if you need me to.”

  I thought he might be angling for another stress release session and I started scrabbling to figure out how the hell I’d accommodate that—if I even could and, further, why I even would. But I knew why I would. I’d known for months. And right then? I would’ve done anything for Alex.

  He must have guessed at what I was very ineffectively trying to communicate to him because he laughed a little, the sound thrumming through me. “No, it’s not like that. I wasn’t calling to get you to distract me again. But thank you for that time, too.”

  “Of course.” I hesitated. I wanted to tell him I missed him, that I thought of him daily, hourly sometimes, but there wasn’t a worse time in the world to lay another potential burden on the guy, so I kept silent.

  “I’ll let you get back to your dinner, now. Like I said, I just wanted you to know.”

  “Thank you.” I’d said it twice already, but I said it again. “Just let me know if I can do anything.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “And for fuck’s sake, stop thanking me.” The amount of thank yous we’d crammed into our conversation would have been comical if the reasons behind it weren’t so sad.

  “I will if you’ll stop offering to do something for me, but fine. I’m hanging up now.”

  I peeked around the wall again. Scott sat with his fingers resting on the stem of his wineglass, other arm casually thrown across the back of the booth as he looked around. He caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back, lifting one finger. Be there in a minute. “Take care, Alex. I’ll be thinking of you and your mom and Lainey. And your dad, of course.” I hung up and stood there, brushing my clammy palms across the thighs of my pants and wondering how I’d get through the rest of dinner. I was worried about Alex and imagined I’d be up all night worrying. I’d had Summer and my dad when Mom had passed, but when Dad had gone, I’d had no one there with me the first day and night after. I was glad Alex wasn’t alone.

  I stopped in the restroom to wash my hands and splash my face with water. I wasn’t very hungry anymore, but tried to muster up a smile and enough enthusiasm to carry me through the rest of the night. I had a feeling this would be our last date.

  I hadn’t even made it to the end of the hallway when my phone rang again. Alex.

  “Could you just come he
re?” He spoke in a rush, the words running together as soon as I answered. “I know you’re out to dinner and you have your own life and things to do, and it’s unfair for me to interrupt, especially after we…well, whatever we were or weren’t, and after I basically told you to get me off then fuck off. There’s a lot that—fuck. It doesn’t matter. I just want you here. Badly. I think I need you here, Rob.”

  His words swam around in my head, nonsensical and panicked, and the only thing I really heard was need you. My answer came without hesitation.

  “I’ll be there in an hour and a half.”

  Scott was understanding when I sent him home with both our meals, and fortunately the house on Nook Island wasn’t scheduled for a rental until the weekend, three days away. I dropped Winslow off there and got him settled in before racing over to Alex’s.

  The house was dark when I arrived, just the flickering blue-white cast of the TV spilling across the threshold as Linda opened the door.

  “He’s in the room with his father. Feels like he’s been at his side for weeks. He’s afraid to leave,” she said as I stepped inside. She melted into the hug I offered and whispered, “Thank you so much for coming,” before dissolving into tears. It was strange how being wrapped in her grief made the memory of my mother’s death reverberate like a distant echo inside of me, awakening a deep empathy that almost stole my breath.

  I held her until she gave me a gentle pat and released me, stirring herself into action the same way my own mother would have, offering me a hundred and one things until I told her I’d take a cup of coffee. I suspected she just wanted the comfort of a task.

  While she went to brew it, I walked down the hallway to John’s room, my chest riddled with those echoes of sadness and the aching awareness of what Alex was likely feeling, too. The air was somber and quiet, medicinal in scent—a smell all too familiar and unwelcome.

  I stopped in the doorway. Alex’s father’s eyes were closed, his hand folded within Alex’s, who had a blank stare fixed on the muted TV. He looked up when I came in, slid his hand from his father’s, and came to stand before me.