The Laws of Gravity (8 page)

Nicole went for a walk after the company had gone home. For the first time in a long time, something in her chest felt lighter, looser—she realized it was the absence of panic, the beginning of hope. It gave her more energy, and instead of creeping into bed like a wounded animal, she felt well enough to stroll around the neighborhood. She headed downhill to be closer to Huntington Bay, close enough to smell the brine in the air.

Summer evenings were louder than any other time of year. People played music with their windows open. Teenagers stayed up late, talking in packs near their cars. Cars seemed to pass more noisily. And always, there was the sound of laughter in summer, brighter and sharper. Did people just have more to laugh about when the weather turned sweet? Nicole wondered. Maybe it was just that all the kids were out of school, playing Manhunt after dark. Teenagers who laughed raucously the way that peacocks spread their tail feathers—who laughed the most easily. Who laughed the longest.

Summer roses bloomed luxuriantly, climbing up neighbors’ front gates, shining under streetlights. The air smelled fresh and sweet—a mixture of honeysuckle and the faint salty smell of the sea that pervades the edges of Long Island. Nicole stopped for a moment, with one hand on her chest. It was a smell of childhood. Yes, she was breathing more easily. She heard glass chimes clinking together on a porch. Thank you, God, she thought. Thank you for this second chance.

A Change of Plan

Julian woke in the middle of the hot summer night, calling hoarsely for a glass of water. He had not done this for years, and when Mimi touched his forehead, it felt burning to the touch, his skin dry and sandy.

He drank the water, wincing. “My throat hurts, Mom.”

Mimi hurried to the bathroom and rummaged around in the cupboard, looking for the thermometer. Why were the simplest things impossible to find when you needed them most?—Bactine, Band-Aids, hydrogen peroxide. In front of the cupboard sat eight different kinds of moisturizing cream, suntan lotion, at least a dozen different shampoos and conditioners. If she were a good mother, prepared, she’d have a first-aid kit ready for moments like these. She’d be the kind of woman who memorized the contents of her medicine cabinet—or at least organized them. She called, “One minute, sweetie!” Julian coughed in response.

Two bottles of mouthwash fell off the shelves, waking Ari, who came out of the bedroom like a rumpled lion, in plaid Brooks Brothers pajamas. His hair stuck out wildly in all directions. He put his hands on the thermometer in ten seconds, and shooed Mimi back to bed. He reappeared in
the doorway five minutes later, clutching the glass thermometer, waving it as if conducting some terrifying phrase of music. “His fever’s over a hundred and four,” he announced. “I’m calling Dr. Martin. Meanwhile, I gave him Tylenol and adjusted the air conditioning. How does the baby seem?”

“Rianna? Rianna’s fine.” It had not yet occurred to Mimi to check on the baby. But Ari was already off into the nursery. He came back, smiling grimly. “She seems all right for now,” he said. “Her forehead was cool to the touch. I didn’t want to wake her. Whatever it is, I hope she doesn’t catch it.”

“Should we take him to the emergency room?” Mimi asked. In these family situations, she often felt like a spectator rather than someone involved. It was as if she were watching television, asking herself, I wonder if they’ll go to the ER now? She could guess, she might even have an opinion, but Ari ran the show. Always.

“They have nothing but quacks in the ER,” he said. “Most of the doctors don’t even speak English. I wouldn’t trust my kid to any of them. Let’s see if I can reach Dr. Martin. Then if Julian takes a turn for the worse, we can go to urgent care as a last resort.”

“That sounds good,” Mimi said, but Ari had already turned and plunged downstairs to the living room. His heavy footsteps pounded on the wooden stairs. Mimi heard Ari’s low voice below, making one call, then another.

Mimi called into Julian’s room, “Sweetie? You okay?” but there was no answer, so she assumed he had fallen asleep again, and the next thing she knew it was early morning and Ari was dressed for work, nudging her awake. Normally he dropped Julian off at camp on his way to the real estate office. But there was no Julian poking his owlish face behind Ari’s to say good-bye or to ask her a question. Ari spoke softly.

“Dr. Martin wasn’t on call last night,” he said. “I didn’t want to deal with an unknown. We have an appointment at one o’clock—Julian can miss a day of camp. It’s not like he’s missing school.”

“I’ll take him,” Mimi said.

“One o’clock, right?”

“No,” said Ari. “I’ll take him myself. That’s why I’m heading in early this morning. I’ll cancel my afternoon appointments.”

“That’s silly,” Mimi said. “I can take care of this.”

Ari didn’t smile; he didn’t even look at her. “No,” he said. “I’m doing this. He’s my son.”

“He’s my son, too,” she said quietly.

Ari just ran his hand through his hair. He frowned. Ari, the lion. Then he tried to soften his tone. “I’ll feel better hearing everything from Dr. Martin myself.” He leaned down and brushed her forehead with his lips. “Try to keep a close eye on Arianna today, right? Keep checking on her.”

“I will,” she said. She felt an accusation in his request, but it was too slippery or deep for her to grasp. “So I’ll see you around one?” she said.

“I’ll be here by noon,” Ari said. He put one broad hand up as if stopping her next question. “You always have to allow for the goddamn traffic around here. Nothing is as easy as it seems.”

“No,” she agreed. “Nothing ever is.”

Ari sat beside his son in Dr. Martin’s waiting room again a few days after he woke with his throat hurting. Julian felt better now, just the remnants of a sore throat, and the swollen glands that hadn’t entirely gone away for some reason.

Ari wished he could sit Julian on his lap the way he had when his son was a little boy during pediatrics appointments, but Julian had his head down, rereading one of his Harry Potter books, and he would have been horrified had Ari done so much as touch his hand. Ari settled for resting his palm on the back of his boy’s neck. It no longer felt hot to the touch. Julian shifted a little in his chair, but didn’t shake the hand off. In fact, he looked up and smiled through those beautiful myopic brown eyes, at the same instant that Ari’s name was called.

Ari stood at once, laying down the magazine he’d been halfheartedly skimming. “Me and Julian, or—” He pointed to himself, and the nurse nodded.

“Just you this time,” she said cheerily.

“Be right back,” Ari told Julian.

“Mm-hmm.” Julian’s attention was refocused on the book in his lap.

“What’s going on?” Ari asked the nurse, but she led him quickly into Dr. Martin’s office, the one with the swivel chairs and the desk, not an examining room. “Dr. Martin will be with you shortly,” she said. She flashed him a smile and was off, shutting the door, and his questions in with him.

Dr. Martin was not smiling when he came in. He was holding Julian’s folder in one hand, and X-rays in the other.

“I’m not sure how to say this,” said Dr. Martin. “And I don’t want you to overreact. I know you.”

Ari was already on his feet. Whatever the news, he was not going to take it sitting down. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“There’s a very slight chance Julian may have Hodgkin’s disease,” said the doctor. “I want to rule it out, I’m just being conservative. His blood
count is off. And there’s this. You remember we took some X-rays.” He slapped them up against a white screen, and flipped on a light. He pointed at something in the neck area. Julian’s neck. “I don’t like the look of this lump, I’d like to biopsy it.”

“When?” said Ari. He felt as if someone had socked him hard in the stomach. He needed time to prepare himself, time to marshal his forces.

“Right away. Today, if you’re willing.” The doctor took the X-ray off the white screen and laid it back down on his desk. “I’m in surgery this afternoon, and this is strictly an outpatient procedure. Won’t even leave a scar.”

Ari moaned at this. It was an animal sound. He shook his head, like a bull sinking to its knees, shaking off the first stick of a sword. “All right,” he said. “We’ll do it today.”

“You want to call your wife?” Dr. Martin pushed the office phone toward him.

Ari waved it away. “No.” There would be time for phone calls later. His stomach was churning. He needed to be completely focused now. He couldn’t be sure Mimi would react the right way, and he didn’t want to chance it. And he couldn’t risk upsetting Julian. For now, it would be something secret between them, father and son.

He felt the preciousness of that bond, which he’d never had with his own father, and also felt, like a sudden blow, what a howling wilderness the world was when you did not believe in any power from anywhere else to rescue you. He wished he could believe. He would pray if there had been anything to pray to.

“I’d like to sit here for two minutes if that’s all right,” Ari said. He feared he was going to throw up. Ari was a generous donor to the hospital.
His name was on one of those brass plaques in the lobby. He and his son would be treated well. He’d made sure of that. Beyond that—nothing. Despite all his precautions. All his care, all his money and connections and success. No guarantees.

“Take all the time you need,” the doctor said. “And don’t go assuming the worst. Please. That’s
my
job. Chances are it’s nothing but a summer cold.”

“A summer cold. God, I hope so.” That was as close as Ari could get to a prayer. He nodded, his eyes swimming.

Before he went out to the waiting room he splashed his face with cold water. He squared his shoulders and walked out with a big smile. “All right, boy-o,” he told Julian. “They just want to run a couple more pain-in-the-ass tests.”

“Aww jeez,” Julian groaned. Then, fearfully, the child in him coming out: “The tests won’t hurt, will they?”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Ari said, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear it.”

Julian looked up, startled.

“And after, I’ll take you out for deli sandwiches. You pick the deli. Anything you want.” His voice returned to normal.

“Deli on the Green,” Julian answered promptly, flashing him a grin. “Guess it’s not all bad, getting sick.”

“You are going to be fine,” Ari said, closing his fingers around his son’s shoulder. “Just fine.”

Mimi barely waited for Nicole to say hello before she blurted it out. “Ari changed his mind. I’m so sorry.”

The phone was slick in Nicole’s hand. She sank into the kitchen chair. “About the cord blood? He changed his mind?” It felt like a wave had rolled over her, knocking her off her feet. She thought how cowardly Mimi was to tell her this over the phone. She forced herself to take a breath. “Why?” she said. “When did this happen?”

“Can I come over?” Mimi said. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

“I’ll always want to see you,” Nicole said. “Come.—It’ll be all right,” she forced herself to say, though she did not believe it. Outside she heard the sound of children playing kickball in the street. An ordinary late summer’s day. She felt the room slipping out from underneath her—as if she might slide off the chair and end up on the linoleum floor.