The Laws of Gravity (7 page)

“I’m going to be really embarrassed if I die anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s what we’re all worried about,” Mimi said, looking with love from one cousin to the other.

“I might die of shame if I waste this,” Nicole said.

“Or you might live,” Mimi said.

Usually the family spent their time together at the Wiesenthals’ sprawling colonial in Glen Cove. That night they gathered at the Greenes’ house in Huntington. It was a small Cape Cod. Nothing special about it, except its purple-gray color.

Jay was allergic to anything with fur. So poor animal-loving Daisy was stuck with a tank of two goldfish and one aging turtle named Speedy Gonzales who crawled around and around his terrarium like a depression case in a lunatic asylum.

This was the first summer since Daisy was born that the two families had not planned a weeklong trip to the beach together. Nicole hadn’t felt up to it, and now there would be the cord blood transplants to work around. Julian and Daisy were so disappointed about the missing vacation that the parents had finally agreed to let them go to the same expensive summer camp, though it meant a longer bus ride for Julian. Ari paid for both children’s camp tuitions.

The camp was located in an old mansion in Cold Spring Harbor; it was an arts camp chiefly, which meant Julian could polish his skills on the saxophone and Daisy could spend all day bouncing back and forth between art and dancing. Ari had thoroughly investigated, checked the reviews online, called and personally interviewed the camp director. “I could carve a better man from a banana,” he finally declared, “but the place is all right.”

The camp had two swimming pools and served organic lunches and snacks. It might even be good for their health, Ari decided. Daisy was still thin and frail looking. Julian had a perpetual squint. At eleven, he already got migraines and sometimes had to lie down in a dark room with a washcloth over his face. Daisy would tiptoe into the room and rub his hands and feet, which helped. She, too, got what they called “sick headaches”
because they usually made her sick to her stomach; she would not begin getting true migraines till after she hit puberty. The family took to calling them “the sick twins.” Whenever they went away on vacation—as they had gone every summer, to the Hamptons or Cape Cod—either Julian or Daisy would end up in some urgent care clinic, or the emergency room in Hyannis.

Julian preferred the Hamptons because he got carsick on the long drives to New England. But Daisy loved the Provincetown dunes. She said when she grew up she was going to become a New Englander, and read
Yankee Magazine
and
Vermont Life
and pronounce
car
as “caaah.” One time Julian got sun poisoning. Another time Daisy sliced her foot open on a clamshell. Still, they looked forward to those brief summer vacations as if to a return to Eden. Summer camp, everyone knew, was no substitute for paradise. But at least they could be together.

The Greenes’ house was filled with Daisy’s toys or animal drawings or art materials. The outside of the Cape Cod was painted a shade of purple halfway between lavender and lilac-gray, with darker gray shutters—but that was the color it had been when they bought it, and Nicole felt that they shouldn’t change it, as if it would insult the house to imply that anything was wrong. Even the inside walls were painted lilac. Ari wondered how Jay could stand it, living in a pale purple house with a wife and daughter. But he didn’t seem to mind, or even, for that matter, to notice. Some of the furniture was downright shabby; Jay’s study was little more than a closet stuffed with playbooks and soccer films, old basketball trophies, and his worn leather briefcase—yet he seemed content with all of that, too. “Cows are contented,” Ari’s mother used to say. “People are either happy or miserable.”

The secret, Ari thought, was that Jay adored his wife. Head over heels in love. He didn’t just admire her, or believe they formed a good team—which was how Ari felt in his marriage to Mimi. Jay practically worshipped the ground Nicole walked on. He had spotted her when they were both taking education classes in graduate school, and said he knew the moment he laid eyes on her that she was the one he’d always wanted. She was wearing high-waisted gray pants and a burgundy cashmere cardigan that almost matched the color of her hair.

But it wasn’t her beauty that first knocked him out—it was her voice. Soft and clear, a few notes lower than you expected. Like a song on the radio; her voice went on playing in his head long after she had stopped speaking. And she was quiet, so he had to pay close attention to make sure he didn’t miss a word. They’d only had the one class together—he was headed toward becoming a gym teacher or coach, she was about to start teaching third grade—so Jay had to act fast. And he did. He asked her out after the second class, and he asked her to marry him after their third date. Ari could imagine what it might feel like to be that dizzily in love with someone, especially somebody like Nicole. But as far as his own life went, it just didn’t apply.

Julian and Daisy went upstairs to see what Speedy Gonzales the turtle was up to—which would be nothing, as usual, but Julian liked feeding him from his round pink rubber dish; the turtle chewed his lettuce slowly, thoughtfully, like an old man bent over a salad.

Nicole rummaged around in the kitchen cupboard looking for cookies, wishing she had something fancier to offer than Oreos, and finally came up with a box of assorted Pepperidge Farm cookies. She saw the slight wince on Ari’s face, but Mimi said, “Oh, I love these!” and went
straight for the Milanos. Nikki brewed some imported coffee she’d gotten as a gift.

The night had grown steadily cooler, despite the heat of the day, and the house felt chilly. Nicole asked, “Is anyone cold? I can turn up the heat. We have plenty of extra sweatshirts.”

Ari said, “Hey—that reminds me!” and left the house. They all heard the beep the BMW made every time he locked or unlocked it. He came back inside carrying an old Bendel’s shopping bag with something inside.

The kids wandered back into the kitchen. Like all children, Nicole thought, they had a preternatural sense of when a box of cookies was being opened. They sat happily on the kitchen stools, browsing through the assortment. Julian liked anything with chocolate. Daisy could take forever choosing between one cookie and another of the exact same kind, her small hand hovering back and forth over the box, as if she were making a life-and-death decision. Was one slightly rounder? One slightly larger?

“Hurry up and pick,” Julian moaned, his mouth full of cookie crumbs. Nicole set a bottle of cider and two plastic tumblers down in front of them. Daisy was still young enough that she dropped a glass at least once or twice a week.

When Ari came in holding the bag, looking strangely excited, Daisy said, “Is that a present for me?”

“Is it your birthday?” Ari asked her.

“No,” she said, disappointed.

“Is it Christmas?”

“Hanukkah,” she corrected him.

“Is it either one?”

“No,” Daisy said.

“Actually,” Ari said. “I just thought of it because your mother happened to mention sweatshirts. I’ve had this around forever, and wasn’t sure what to do with it.”

He drew something out of the shopping bag. Only Julian seemed to know what it was. “Gross!” he yelled. “Get rid of it!”

“What is it?” Mimi asked, puzzled. She reached with one hand as if to touch the vintage child-size sweatshirt, then paused, with her hand in midair.

“It’s that gross sweatshirt from when the dog attacked Aunt Nicole. It’s got her old blood all over it. Dad once showed it to me like it was a treasure or something.”

“Is that my mom’s blood?” Daisy asked, interested. “Can I see it?”

Ari kept it close to his side, one fist around the small sweatshirt. “I just wasn’t sure what to do with it,” he said.

“Get rid of it,” Mimi said.

“I don’t want to look at it,” Julian said. He swung around in a half circle, and deliberately kept his back turned.

Only Nicole’s voice was gentle. “It’s sort of a piece of family history,” she said.

“Yes! That’s exactly what it is!” Ari said. “I knew you’d understand. You saved our dogs’ lives that day.”

“Dude,” said Jay. “Why would you keep such a weird artifact? Just throw it in the trash can around back.”

Ari smiled, but the smile was twisted sideways. “I can dispose of it properly,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure no one objected.”

“No, I don’t,” Nicole said. “I don’t need to keep it.”

“I want to see my mother’s blood!” Daisy insisted.

“No,” Jay said, stepping in front of her. “Jeez.”

“Why would you keep a weird thing like that?” Julian demanded, his back still turned, his arms folded.

Ari folded his arms, too, one hand still clutching the sweatshirt. “I kept it,” Ari said, “to remind myself. That was a key moment in my childhood, and I vowed that if I ever had the chance I would never be a coward again.”

“Well, you aren’t one,” Nicole said, smiling. “I don’t think you ever were.”

“Just get rid of it,” Mimi said, shaking her head.

“Please,” Julian added. “Before I throw up.” Everyone laughed.

But Ari had already turned back to the door, carrying the shopping bag, into which he had hastily stuffed the old bloodstained sweatshirt. “I’m going,” he said. Watching him go, his shoulders slumped, Nicole thought he looked like an old man. He shuffled out the door. Again they heard the beep of the BMW as the door unlocked and relocked.

“I wish we could shut that thing off,” Mimi said, “It’s impossible to sneak up on someone.”

“Is that why my mom has that scar on her wrist?” Daisy said. “Because of the bad dog?”

“Yes,” said Julian. “She was totally brave. My dad was a wuss.”

“He carried me inside,” Nicole reminded him.

Julian snorted. “Big deal.”

“It’s
my
family’s blood,” Daisy said. “I think I should get to keep the shirt.”

“Shh,” Nicole said, stroking her daughter’s long hair. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.” Daisy’s hair felt like strands of silk, the way it would
get tangled up under your fingers. If you sat with Daisy in your lap at the movies—and she almost always ended up in your lap, something scary was bound to happen at some point—it was like sitting there with a mouthful of thread. “Hey, Julian, what are you planning to be for Halloween this year?”

“I’m choosing between the Tramp and Wolverine,” Julian said.

“Who’s the Tramp?” Daisy said. “I’m going to be Captain Hook.”

“Captain Hook is a guy, dummy,” said Julian.

So by the time Ari came back from the car without the bag, they had changed the subject and moved on to lighter things.

Nicole always hugged Mimi good-bye, and she never let Julian go home without a good-night kiss, but she was shy when it came to embracing other men—even her cousin. This night, though, she walked straight up to Ari and wrapped her arms around his waist. He smelled like her childhood, of pine and salt water. She tilted back her head to look at him—he was a good five inches taller than she was. “I’ve always looked up to you,” she said quietly, only half kidding. She tried standing on her tiptoes, to demonstrate.

He returned the hug but quickly stepped back, his hands at his sides. “I don’t see why,” he said. “There’s not that much to admire.”

“Oh, yes there is,” she said.

He shrugged but half smiled back at her, and gave her a little salute—an old childhood gesture she had forgotten. “Keep your nose clean,” he said—something his father used to say.

“Don’t go out with a wet head,” she said, echoing her mother. They both laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Mimi called over.

“Nothing,” Ari said. “It’s an inside joke.”

“Why is everybody leaving?” Daisy said plaintively. “Look. It’s still light out.” There was the faintest glimmer of blue still left shimmering in the night sky.

“It’s way past your bedtime,” Jay said, scooping her up and walking back into the house.

Nicole stood in the driveway and waved while Ari put his BMW in reverse and honked lightly, two times, as he pulled away—an old, old farewell signal, as familiar and far away as the whistle of the Long Island Railroad.