Page 85 of Center of Gravity

“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 whatstrozzapretiis, 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 ayes, 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.

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 waitresstook 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.