Traditional Gravity

  Chapter Five

  Samantha lived on Elm Street, on the northeast corner of town, a block away from the river. The houses on that side of town tended to be older. I pulled up to Samantha's number, a yellow Cape Cod with a one car garage.

  I encountered memories on Elm Street that had not surfaced in a long time. Across the street, shrouded by a pocket of trees, lay Valley Street Park. We played tennis there when we were kids, before the cracks became large enough to swallow balls and sprain ankles. My last time there, the nets were gone and the courts were abandoned completely. I also played church softball games on the adjacent field. Jordan and I had both been on the team, and the memories were nothing but fond.

  On the other side of Samantha's street stood another forgotten structure - the old elementary school. The large Victorian castle like building, complete with turrets, last housed students in the sixties. The gradual erosion of time had taken it further away from any purpose or meaning and turned it into a haunt for pigeons and rats. As a kid, I never questioned its decaying exterior or its boarded windows. Now, I saw the ancient grandeur of the building and wondered why it had never been reclaimed.

  I continued examining the old school until Samantha's door opened. I moved to intercept her so I could escort her to the car. An older woman stood at the door with her arms crossed, watching. I assumed it was her mother. She probably wished to see who her daughter was going out with, though she didn't come out to meet me, or say anything from the doorway. No child said goodbye to Samantha as she walked down the sidewalk to the street, and no toys littered the yard.

  "Hi," I greeted Samantha, while opening the door for her. She dressed simply - jeans, a sweater and a jacket, but she looked really nice.

  "Hi." She flashed me a cautious smile. I was still little more than a stranger, no matter how well our first date at the coffee shop had gone.

  I held out my hand to support her while she angled herself into the car.

  "Thank you," she said softly. I closed the door behind her and then took my place behind the wheel.

  "I had forgotten about that," I said, motioning to the Victorian School house.

  "Yeah, it's still there."

  "It's hard to believe it's never been used for anything else."

  "I think a few people have bought it, but no one could ever figure out what to do with it."

  "There's probably a lot of damage inside." I turned the car toward the school to make a K turn.

  "It's pretty famous for its pigeon and rat poop."

  "You ever been inside?"

  "No. I'm not really a fan of pigeon and rat poop."

  I figured we had drained the old school of whatever conversation we could mine from it. As we drove away, it shifted into a foreboding shadow in my rear view mirror.

  "Do you live with your parents?" I asked.

  "Aunt and Uncle."

  "Do your parents still live around here?"

  "My mom does, over in Oleout Plains Center. But my dad lives near Seattle."

  Something in her voice intonated, 'stay away’, so I steered clear of the subject of her family for the time being. We made it to Main Street, and approached the only ice cream store that stayed opened during the winter.

  "Is the Silver Spoon okay with you?" I asked her.

  "I actually think Nancy's Place before the railroad tracks is better for dessert, but whatever you choose is fine."

  "We'll go there then." I decided to side with her preference. Samantha interested me much more than dessert.

  I turned left on Main Street and drove toward the tracks. Nancy's was only a block away from the Silver Spoon anyway. In a minute, we sat in a booth in the tiny diner like establishment. She ordered a Napoleon and I ordered a piece of cheese cake. I contemplated what I should say next.

  Samantha spoke first. "So, coffee yesterday, dessert tonight, no dinner date yet. Are you sending a subtle message about how serious you are about this relationship, or are you afraid you can't afford all of these Oleout Plains restaurants?"

  She was gently teasing me, since no restaurant in Oleout Plains was very expensive. At the same time, she prodded me ever so slightly to reveal my intentions toward her.

  "I would have taken you out for dinner tonight, but my brother just got into town and I felt kind of bad just leaving him hanging. Besides, I'm pretty sure I can afford all of the fine dining establishments that Oleout Plains can offer," I replied, adding more sarcasm than was necessary.

  "Oh, look who's all snotty about Oleout Plains. Well, we can't all be cool like you and live in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania."

  I smiled. “Touché."

  "What made you decide to live in Harrisburg?"

  I shrugged. "I got offered a job out of college, so I took it."

  "What do you do?"

  "I work in a headhunting firm - I help manage the office."

  "Do you like it?"

  "It's okay. Pays the bills."

  "What did you major in?"

  "Economics."

  She gazed at me curiously. "What do you do with an Economics degree?"

  "I don't know. Work in business or something."

  "Then why didn't you major in business?"

  "That would be because I wasn't accepted into the business school. I guess my grades weren't quite good enough."

  "Oh," she said. "That's okay. I don't think I would have been accepted either then."

  "Thanks - that makes feel a lot better about myself."

  We paused briefly. She restarted us, continuing her barrage of questions.

  "Where does your brother live?"

  “Tarrytown - it's about 30 miles north of New York City."

  "He lives down there? What does he do for a living?" I could tell she was impressed, at least more impressed than she was that I lived in Harrisburg.

  "Sure. You make fun of Harrisburg, but you think it's a big deal that my brother works in the city?" I feigned emotional injury.

  Samantha laughed a little. "I'm sorry. It's just that New York City is New York City. I mean I wouldn't want to live there myself, but it gets your attention."

  I knew what she meant. Pennsylvania was just an extension of upstate New York - rural, hilly, and forested. But New York City existed in a different world altogether. When people left for a place like New York, or even Washington D.C. or Chicago, it felt like they had gone somewhere. Samantha would have been even more impressed if I told her that Jordan worked as a highly paid IT consultant.

  "What's your brother's name?"

  "Jordan."

  "What made you both come home this week?"

  The waitress served us our orders as she asked the question.

  "Actually we're here because my grandfather passed away last night."

  Samantha's face turned gravely serious. I didn't know where to place the fact of my grandfather's death in our conversation. I certainly didn't want to lead with it, and kill the mood right off the bat. The end of the date felt just as awkward. This was as good a time as any.

  "I'm so sorry," she said, then visibly searched for her next words. Speaking to someone in mourning was never easy. "Was it sudden?"

  "Oh no, he was in his 90s. He was living in a nursing home, and his health kept going back and forth. We knew the next time that he got sick would probably be the last time. It's one of those things where he's probably better off. I don't think the last few years have been very pleasant for him."

  She nodded. "If your grandfather just died, why are you out with me?"

  Her question made me feel guilty, though only momentarily so. "I don't know. My parents were out with my grandmother, so I didn't really think I was needed at home. Tomorrow's the wake, Thursday's the funeral, I was at his bedside last night. I guess I just wanted to forget about death for a little while, because I'm going to have plenty of it for the next few days."

  Saying this out loud made me feel selfish, but Samantha seemed to understand.

  "Were you close with him?"

&nbs
p; "I saw him a decent amount because he lived in Hadenburg, and we spent most of our holidays over there. He was a pretty funny guy - kind of quirky. But I don't know if I could say we were close."

  Samantha's napoleon sat idly in front of her, and I hadn't touched my cheesecake yet. I took my fork in hand, and cut away a triangular piece from the tip.

  "Mmhm. It's good."

  Samantha took a small bite from the edge of her own pastry.

  "Are you close to your grandparents - the ones that live across the road from my parents?"

  "Not really. I don't see them too much these days."

  Again, I felt as though Samantha's family was a taboo topic.

  "What was your grandpa's name?" she asked, after swallowing another bite of napoleon.

  "Eugene Myers."

  She whispered the name to herself as though she was trying to memorize it.

  "You look really pretty tonight," I told her.

  She brushed her hair out of her face and looked down toward her legs.

  "I'm just wearing a sweater and jeans."

  "I know, but still."

  "Thank you."

  In a few minutes, we finished off our sweets. Samantha and I couldn't just sit at the booth forever - we needed a change in venue.

  "Do you have to get home now, or would you be up for going somewhere else?" I queried.

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "There's just a place I always wanted to take a girl in high school, but never did."

  This would have been an appropriate place for her to ask me what my intentions were. I probably sounded a little suspicious. For some stupid reason, I wanted the place to be a surprise.

  "Well, I don't actually have anywhere to go right now and I don't have work or class tomorrow, so I can't say that I have to get home." Samantha paused and let that information sink in. "So I guess if I say yes or no to you now depends on whether I want to go with you, or whether or not I trust you."

  Another honest answer, though I suspected she was playing with me a little bit.

  "Do you want to go with me?"

  “Kind of."

  "Do you trust me?"

  She smiled wanly. "Kind of."

  "So you'll come?"

  "I guess so."

  "Don't sound so enthusiastic," I chided her.

  Samantha offered me a slightly mischievous look. I wasn't really too offended. Her mixed feelings about entrusting herself to me spoke more of her relative maturity and wisdom than they did her overall interest in me.

  I paid the check and we headed off in the direction of my parents' house. Soon, we pulled onto a small road on the other side of the East Guilford cemetery, and parked along the shoulder in an area surrounded by trees. I got out of the car and walked to the other side to open her door.

  "I suppose it's a little late to ask if you're bringing me out here to kill me?" She was joking, I think. However, if the prospect of accompanying me to an unknown place seemed sketchy earlier, it must have seemed even more dangerous on that dark and deserted stretch of road. Samantha should've known in general where we were though; her grandparents' house lay less than a half mile up the road.

  "You've never been here?" I asked, a little surprised.

  "Not that I'm aware of."

  I took the liberty of seizing Samantha's hand and led her past a ‘No Trespassing’ sign, down a grass path sloping away from the road. Technically speaking, we were crossing onto private property. The sound of rushing water lay just beyond the row of bushes on our right. We cleared the overgrowth and stood in front of a stream cascading over a ten to fifteen foot drop into a pool below. The sound of the water suggested the early spring rains had been plentiful. I drew Samantha onto a rock outcrop above the stream. She hadn't released my hand yet. For a moment or so we watched the water descend over the edge.

  "There's another water fall upstream," I pointed. The darkness obscured the upper falls, but we could discern its general form. The one in front of us was the more impressive of the two anyway. I released Samantha's hand so I could take off my jacket.

  "You don't expect me to go swimming with you or something, do you?"

  "No, we'd probably get hypothermia if we did." I laid my jacket on the rock, certain that it would be cold and I hoped we could sit for a while.

  "Do you want to sit?" I gestured toward the jacket. Once again I took her hand and helped her down, then sat down beside her. "Let me know if you get cold," I instructed her.

  "Don't worry, I will," she said. She seemed fine for the moment as she wore a jacket over her sweater, and both items of clothing appeared to be warm.

  "This is the place you wanted to bring a girl all of these years?" she asked, a rueful grin on her face.

  "Why? You don't like it?"

  She smiled and shook her head slowly. "It's a nice little spot."

  "I'm glad you like it. But I'm surprised you've never been here - your grandparents' house is right up the hill from here."

  She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess they never thought to bring me here."

  "This used to be a popular party place when I was a little kid. High school kids came here to drink a lot. Sometimes we could hear them at night."

  "Did you ever party here?"

  "No, I wasn't really into parties too much when I was in high school. I did come here to swim a few times though."

  Some of my friends enjoyed swimming at the falls for a time. We felt adventurous jumping off of the cliffs around the falls, as it required a little skill not to hit any of the rock outcrops on the way down. My father always bemoaned my use of the stream for swimming, since we had a perfectly nice inground pool at our house. But there were no cliffs to jump off of at the pool and no adult supervision at the waterfall. Not that we did anything too crazy anyway - no one drank or made out. Still, it felt good back then to operate under the radar of parental control.

  "Are you cold?" I asked Samantha.

  "No, I'm okay."

  We sat above the turgid waters as if the orchestra of water and rocks possessed something profound to say to us. Samantha stared straight ahead, tracing the movement of the stream out of the pool as it moved away toward the Unadilla River. The soft, inviting glow from her face and the way her eyes glistened and her hair fell around her cheeks mesmerized me.

  "What are you thinking about?" I asked, captivated by her stillness.

  "I'm thinking about how surprising this is - being here with you. If someone told me last week that I'd be going out on a date with you, I ..." she didn't finish her sentence, but I understood what she meant.

  "Yeah, it is kind of surprising."

  She looked me in the eyes. "And then in another week, you'll be back in Harrisburg, and I'll be back in class. It will be as if this never happened."

  I didn't detect sadness in her words. Her tone indicated she was just making casual observations. She continued to meet my gaze, moving closer to me. I leaned my face in toward her. We kissed lightly and drew back. Samantha turned her head and looked straight ahead again.

  "I probably shouldn't be here," she said, almost in a whisper.

  Suddenly, I felt as if I had somehow pressured Samantha into being with me. Maybe I had read the signals wrong.

  "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to push you so fast."

  "No, it's not your fault. I just shouldn't be here."

  She grew quiet again and her eyes were evasive. Maybe there was someone else in her life. I had never asked her directly, I just assumed that she was available since she kept agreeing to go out with me. She could have just come out of a relationship.

  "Is there someone else?"

  "I wouldn't be here with you if there was."

  "Then why shouldn't you be here? Is it me?"

  "No Evan, I like you. It's just that..."

  A third alternative took shape in my mind as her statement trailed off. "Is this because I'm only here for the week?"

  Samantha turned back toward me. I detected a surge in her energy
level, as if my question had generated some new spark within her. After another moment of consideration, she put her hands on my face and kissed me. Passionately. Her actions surprised me, but I instinctively wrapped my arms around her and clutched her closely. Eventually, she pulled her lips back, though stayed within my embrace. I held her indefinitely.

  Finally, I felt her shudder, and she whispered, "I'm cold."

  I didn't want to let her go, but she had given me the code word indicating it was time to go, and I didn't want to abuse the trust she exhibited by letting me take her there to begin with. I stood and lifted her up by her hand.

  We began to move toward the car until Samantha spied a small road climbing the hill on the other side of the road. A dead end sign marked its beginning.

  "Isn't there a cemetery up there?" she asked.

  "Yeah, I think that's where it is."

  She was referring to the cemetery I had stood overlooking with Jordan earlier that day.

  "Let's go look." She tugged on my hand.

  "I thought you were cold."

  "As long as I keep moving, I'll be fine." Samantha pulled me into the middle of the small side road.

  "I don't think you're supposed to go to cemeteries after dark," I protested, physically stopping her advance. "It's trespassing."

  “Trespassing? So was going down to the falls. Are you scared?"

  I glanced up at the hill, which was shrouded in complete darkness. Maybe I was a little scared. Though interested in cemeteries, I had never visited one at night. She kept trying to pull me with her. I looked away from the road winding up to the graveyard, and met her eyes. Once I did, I gave in, and let her lead me up the hill.

  We reached the top of the hill after a few minutes. The East Guilford cemetery was small. No fence or gate marked its boundaries. A number of houses surrounded the graveyard, which surprised me. From my usual vantage point across the road, the cemetery seemed isolated from everything else, but it actually lay in the backyard of one of the houses.

  Samantha took a flashlight out from her purse, and shone it on the headstones as we made our way through. The earliest of the graves dated back to the mid-nineteenth century, which was old, but not as old as other cemeteries in the area. I always imagined that no one was buried there anymore, but I was wrong. At least half of the internees had been laid to rest in the second half of the twentieth century. Some had even been buried there in the last ten years.

  Samantha stopped in front of a particular grave - Loretta Taylor Scott. She died in 1966, fifty two years old. The head stone called her beloved daughter, wife and mother.

  "What are we looking at?" I asked quietly. Samantha didn't answer. I don't think she even heard me. "Is this family?" It was the only theory I could come up with. Neither the headstone's plain appearance nor the details on the stone set it apart from the other graves. Yet somehow it paralyzed Samantha.

  "No. I've never heard of her before tonight."

  Up until that moment, being with Samantha had made me feel a little like a high schooler again. Going to the falls and coming to the cemetery at night were things that high school kids did. Now as I stood next to Samantha and sensed something deeper at work within her, I felt the unknown years that had passed since she boarded my bus.

  A light turned on in the house next to the cemetery and the door opened. I could see the outline of a man appear at the threshold. My heart started to race a little. We weren't supposed to be there.

  "You're trespassing!" he yelled in our direction. "This is private property, and you can't be here!"

  His angry display jarred Samantha from whatever thoughts ensnared her. We didn't exactly know how to respond to the enraged homeowner. I couldn't remember the last time an adult yelled at me like that. Then we heard a loud barking sound and the jingle of a collar move toward us. I suspected the collar was attached to a large dog. Not wanting to discover if it was a Doberman or a Golden Retriever, I seized Samantha's hand and took off. We bounded down the hill and sprinted to my car. By the end, I was nearly dragging Samantha behind me. I didn't have keyless entry, so we endured a few more anxious moments as I fumbled to open the door. We could still hear the dog, though it didn't sound too close to us anymore.

  Once safely in the car, Samantha started laughing uproariously. The distant moment in the cemetery passed. We were high school kids again - busted for trespassing in a cemetery at night. I was still breathing hard and couldn't quite muster up Samantha's delight. My anxiety gradually evaporated as I watched her enjoyment of the escapade.

  We settled into a comfortable silence on the way back to her house. The first signs of familiarity crept into our connection. Questions still remained of course. I didn't know anything about her kid or her family in general. She didn't know where I would be in a week. But there was definitely a spark between us, and more importantly for me, the quiet promise of meaning. Therefore, I didn't need to know all of the answers yet.

  I pulled up to the curb next to her aunt's and uncle's house. Following my usual procedure, I helped Samantha out of the car and continued to hold her hand as we walked toward the door. Again she didn't resist. Every time that she didn't pull her hand away from mine thrilled me. We arrived at her door and stood on the step in front of it, facing each other.

  "I'll be thinking of you during the wake and funeral for your grandfather."

  "Thanks. I'll call you soon."

  "I hope so."

  I leaned in again to test the waters. She met me halfway and we shared a brief kiss.

  "Good night," she said.

  I let go of her hand.

  "Good night."

  I took a few steps back facing her as she opened the door. We mouthed goodnight to each other again, and I turned to walk to my car.

  In front of me lay the abandoned school house. Earlier, in the darkening evening shadows it had looked foreboding. Now, in the advance of night it was downright ghostly. It whispered stories of disrepair, neglect and the ravaging of time. I hastened my pace to reach my car and intentionally averted my gaze from the school. I didn't want to hear the tales it had to tell or the lessons that it had to teach.

  At home, the living room was dark. A light emanated from the family room where my father usually watched TV. Upon further inspection, I found him asleep on the couch. I made my way down to the second place that emitted light - my mother's bedroom. She and Jordan were probably in there talking.

  Before Jordan became an active Christian, I never heard my mom or dad really speak about their faith. Once Jordan got serious about religion, it opened up all sorts of discussions, mostly between him and my mom. They stayed up late talking about Jesus and the Bible, while I sat in the living room watching late night TV. I tried to join a few of their conversations, but wasn't interested in talking religion.

  That night I ventured into the room. My mom sat up in bed, partially covered by blankets. Jordan sat next to the bed in a rocking chair. They took turns looking through a book, which turned out to be my yearbook.

  "She's pretty," Jordan remarked.

  "Yes, she's very lovely," agreed my mom.

  "Thanks." I felt the urge to leave the room, but didn't.

  "Did you meet her kid?" asked Jordan.

  A look of surprise flashed across my mom's eyes. "Kid?"

  Jordan looked quizzically at my mom and then at me. "She didn't know?"

  "Not until now."

  "Whoops. Sorry."

  I waited to see what my mom would say. Though religious, she didn't long to judge other people for their failures in the past. Still, I didn't think she'd approve of me pursuing a single mother.

  "So did you meet her kid?" my mom repeated. I couldn't tell if she was upset or not.

  "No. She never mentioned him - or her." Mom looked apprehensively at me, like she wanted to say something, but dropped the subject.

  "Did you have a nice time?" she asked.

  "Yes, it was very nice."

  "That's good." She changed the sub
ject even more. "Do you have anything to wear to the wake and funeral tomorrow?"

  I failed to pack anything for a possible funeral or for church on Easter Sunday, mainly because I had been so preoccupied with the memory from my grandparents' church. Jordan and I kept a number of old shirts, pants, and sweatshirts stored away in our childhood rooms, though none of these would have been suitable options for a funeral.

  "If you want, I'll give you some money and you can go and buy something tomorrow," my mom offered.

  "No thanks. I need to go buy another suit anyway, so I'll buy it myself."

  I said goodnight, walked out of the room and sat down on the couch in the living room. Jordan joined me shortly.

  “Since when do you turn down money from Mom?"

  I ignored his observation. "Do you want to go to the mall with me tomorrow?"

  "You need me to come to the mall with you? What are we, girls?"

  "Do you want to go or not?"

  "Sure I'll go. Why don't you get Samantha to come with us while you're at it? I'd like to meet her."

  "I thought you said it wasn't going to work out so I shouldn't bother."

  "And you didn't listen. So I might as well meet her since you're not listening - you know, as long as that doesn't freak her out."

  "Just don't ask her any questions about her kid."

  Jordan raised his hand in the air. "I swear I will not ask her questions about her kid. Though I don't know why you haven't."

  "All right, I'll see what I can do," I said, disregarding his peripheral remarks.

  Later that night I settled into bed, listening to another mix tape before I fell asleep. The gentle guitars and soft vocals of ‘Luna, Luna’ by the Smashing Pumpkins, lulled me into a peaceful state. Samantha had agreed to go shopping with us, so that would be interesting. Then we would have to do the wake for Grandpa in the evening. Another day of joy and grief, light and dark, life and death.

  Chapter Six