All These Things I've Done (24 page)

‘You were so keen to cut in on me. Why don’t you just tell me yourself?’

‘The Kid – that’s what they call Yuji Ono Junior, to distinguish him from Yuji Ono Senior – the Kid’s eager to prove himself. Everyone thinks the Balanchine organization is weak. What better way for the Kid to make his mark than by destroying the Balanchine business in North America?’

I nodded. ‘If people think that, why’s he at the wedding then?’

‘He says he didn’t have anything to do with the contamination, of course. His presence is a gesture meant to show that we believe that, too. I’ve got to tell you, Anya. It doesn’t exactly look good for you to be dancing with him, though.’

First, I laughed because I wanted him to know that his opinion didn’t matter to me. Then I asked him, ‘Why?’

‘People will think you’ve made some sort of alliance with him.’

‘Who are these
people,
Jacks? The same people who rose to my defence when I was hauled into prison a few short months ago? Tell these people that Yuji Ono has been my friend for years and I’ll dance with whom I like.’

‘You’re making a spectacle of yourself,’ Jacks said. ‘Everyone was watching you. You might think that you’re unimportant but you’re still Leonyd Balanchine’s oldest child and you mean something to these people.’

‘That is unbelievably rude! What about my brother, Leo? Doesn’t he count? You’re the one who’s always telling me not to underestimate him.’

‘I’m sorry, Anya. I didn’t mean it that way. I—’

At that point, another tap on my shoulder: this time, Win wanting to cut in, thank God.

I shrugged Jacks off and gladly moved over to Win. The other song had ended, and a slower one had begun. I hadn’t even noticed because I’d been distracted by my argument with Jacks.

‘I didn’t think you liked to dance,’ Win said.

‘I don’t.’ I was annoyed over Jacks’s comments and I wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

‘You’re very popular,’ Win continued. ‘When you were dancing with that black-haired man, I wondered if I should be jealous.’

‘I hate these people,’ I said as I buried my head in Win’s chest. His coat smelt like cigarettes. Although Win didn’t smoke (no one really smoked any more because of how much water it took to grow tobacco), the coat must have once belonged to someone who had. The scent made me a little sick but I still kind of liked it. ‘I hate being dragged into this. I wish I had never been born. Or that I had been born someone else entirely.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Win said. ‘I’m glad you were born.’

‘And my shoes hurt,’ I grumbled.

Win laughed gently. ‘Should I carry you?’

‘No, just don’t make me dance any more.’ The song was over, so we went back to the table. Yuji Ono wasn’t there, and someone else occupied what I’d thought was his seat.

Because we could not make it back to the city by curfew, we had arranged to stay the night in Westchester in one of the carriage houses on the compound property. I bunked with Natty, and Win was meant to share a room with my brother. Leo went to hang out with Jacks and some of the other unmarried guys from the Pool, so I put Natty to bed, then went to keep Win company. Win was something of an insomniac so I knew he’d be awake. I was the opposite, by the way. I pretty much always fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. And, if I hadn’t felt bad for dragging Win to this awful wedding, I would have happily curled up next to Natty and gone right to sleep. The combination of the travel and my uncomfortable shoes had exhausted me.

It might seem silly but I made sure to wear my pyjamas and a bathrobe I found hanging in the closet. Despite our multiple conversations about waiting, Win and I had had more than a few close calls. So, bathrobe and pyjamas it was.

Win was lying on the bed, strumming an out-of-tune guitar he’d found on the premises. It was missing a string and there was a hole in the side. He smiled when he saw me in my get-up. ‘You look cute,’ he said. I sat in the only chair in the room. I curled my knees up to my chest and rested my head on them. I yawned. Win suggested I lie down on the bed, but I shook my head no. Win continued to strum the guitar, and the radiator came on. The heat made me even sleepier, but also, um, hot. I took off the bathrobe.

‘This is ridiculous. Use the bed. I won’t try anything, I swear,’ Win said. ‘I’ll wake you when Leo gets back.’

I nodded. I lay down on the other side of the bed, and I drifted off.

An hour or so later, I woke. Win was asleep with the guitar across his chest. I picked up the guitar and laid it down on the floor. And I couldn’t help myself. I kissed him.

He stirred, then woke, then kissed me back.

I wanted to feel my skin against his skin, so I reached my hands up under his T-shirt.

And before I knew it, my pyjamas were off. This happened so quickly that in retrospect it seemed silly that I had thought pyjamas would be a significant barrier to anything. And I was asking him if he had something. Me, Anya Balanchine, mostly good Catholic girl. I could scarcely believe the words had come out of my mouth.

Yes, he said, he did. ‘But only if you’re sure, Annie?’

My body was, even if my mind wasn’t. ‘Yes,’ I sputtered. ‘Yes, I am. Just put it on already.’

And then there was a scream in the other room. Natty was having another nightmare.

‘I have to go,’ I said, pulling myself off him.

Because there was no time, I left my pyjamas on the floor and threw on the bathrobe.

As I walked to the other room, I felt hot and flushed and altogether ashamed that I had let it get so far. That scream had saved me, really.

Natty was already awake when I got there. Her face was pink and tear-stained.

I took her in my arms. ‘What was it this time?’ I asked.

‘Nana,’ Natty whispered. ‘I was in the apartment, and Nana was dead. Her face was grey like stone. And when I went to touch her, her fingers started to fall off, and then she was just sand.’

The content of this nightmare was not unique, and though a large part of my brain was busy thinking about what had almost happened with Win, I was still able to comfort Natty. ‘Nana
will
die some day, Natty,’ I said. ‘We have to be prepared.’

‘I know that!’ Natty yelled. ‘But Nana dying was only the beginning. When I went into your room, you were lying on your bed, and your skin was grey like Nana’s. And then I went into Leo’s, and he was the same way. I was the only one left.’ Natty began to weep.

‘Leo and I aren’t going to die, Natty. Not any time soon, at least. We’re young and healthy.’

‘So were Daddy and Mommy,’ Natty replied.

I pulled Natty even closer to me, and Win seemed miles away. ‘Our lives won’t be anything like theirs. You’ll see. Everything I do, every thought I have, is about protecting us, and especially you, from that sort of life.’

Natty nodded though her eyes seemed doubtful.

I tucked her into bed. As I was about to get in next to her, I remembered that I wasn’t wearing my pyjamas. I would have to sleep in this moth-eaten flannel bathrobe. I hoped I wouldn’t get body lice or something awful. Then again, maybe that would be a good lesson about remembering to keep my pyjamas on.

Uncharacteristically, I couldn’t get to sleep. I lay awake thinking about my sister, and whether I should arrange for her to talk to someone. And then I thought about what Win and I had been doing (or about to do) in the moments before Natty’s nightmare. Though I was basically a good Catholic, I didn’t consider myself a spiritual person. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if Natty’s scream had been a sign of some sort. God, or maybe my dead parents, telling me to stop. Or was this reading too much into things? Natty had nightmares regularly, after all, and they didn’t necessarily mean anything. And who is to say I wouldn’t have stopped things with Win myself? Win and I had been nearly as close before, and I had always put the brakes on without need of any higher intervention.

And yet the timing certainly gave me pause.

My skin was itchy from the bathrobe. For a while, I tried to ignore the itch, but then I couldn’t help it. I gave in. I scratched my calf until it bled.

I heard a gentle knock at the door: Win. He was carrying my pyjamas, which he had folded up. Win was gentlemanly that way. Gable, for instance, would have thrown my discarded clothes at me in a rumpled ball.

So as not to wake Natty, I went out to the hallway. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry,’ I added.

Win shook his head.

‘No. I
am
sorry. I don’t want to keep doing this to you. I want . . .’ It was embarrassing to say this next part out loud. ‘The thing is, my body and my mind don’t always agree on what to want.’

Win kissed my cheek. ‘Well, normally, that would be incredibly annoying, but luckily for you, I’m crazy about you.’

For now, I thought.

‘What? You’re furrowing your little brow. What’re you thinking?’

‘For now,’ I said. ‘You’re crazy about me for now.’

‘Forever,’ he insisted. ‘I mean it.’

Win was probably the nicest boy I had ever known, and it was a nice thing to say. Though I didn’t believe him, I knew he believed himself and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I tried not to let the doubt show on my face.

I kissed him on the lips, making sure to keep my tongue in my mouth where it belonged. I closed the door and returned to the room I was sharing with Natty. I took off the bathrobe and slipped into my pyjamas. Then I got back into bed next to my sister. She cuddled into my side and placed her arm around my waist.

‘Did I interrupt something with you and Win?’ she whispered.

‘Nothing important,’ I told her. I decided that it hadn’t been.

‘I do like him,’ Natty said dreamily. ‘If I ever have a boyfriend, which seems pretty doubtful, I’d want him to be exactly like Win.’

‘I’m glad you approve,’ I replied. ‘And for the record, Natty, I’m pretty sure you’ll have a million boyfriends one day.’

‘A million?’ she asked.

‘Well, as many as you want.’

‘I’d settle for one,’ she said. ‘Especially if he were as nice as yours.’

X V.
we mourn again; i learn the definition of
internecine

W
E DIDN’T GET BACK TO THE CITY
until Sunday after lunch. Win went to his apartment straight from the train station – his apartment was fairly close to Grand Central – and Leo, Natty and I made our way back to ours. I was eager to be home. I was sleepy and hungry and I had a ton of schoolwork. Besides which, being away always made me anxious.

As the weather was unseasonably warm for February, Leo and Natty wanted to walk from the train station instead of taking the bus. I had wanted to take the bus in order to expedite the trip, but I had been overruled.

We were nearly halfway home when I began to feel an inexplicable and almost painful need to be back in the apartment. I quickened my pace.

‘Slow down,’ Natty called. ‘You’re walking too fast for us.’

I turned my head over my shoulder and suggested we race. We had just reached the anachronistically named Museum Mile, which, along the park side, was a fairly straight shot back to our apartment.

‘Come back, Annie,’ Leo said. ‘It’s not fair if you have a head start.’

I backtracked to where Natty and Leo were standing.

‘On your mark,’ I said, ‘get set, go!’

Natty, Leo and I raced up the sidewalk. Leo was in the lead, with Natty not far behind. I was last but I liked that position. Easier to keep my eye on my siblings.

Though we were panting and red-faced, we got home in less than ten minutes. The exertion had quelled my anxiety, too.

‘Take the stairs?’ Leo joked.

‘Good one, Leo,’ I said, pushing the elevator button.

In contrast to the mild day outside, it was unusually cold inside the apartment. A draught was coming from the living room, so I went to close the windows. In the living room, I found Imogen seated on the sofa and the disquiet I had felt earlier immediately returned.

‘Something’s wrong,’ I said.

Imogen shook her head. ‘Where are Natty and Leo?’

‘In their rooms,’ I told her.

‘Sit down,’ she said, and I knew this instruction could only mean one thing.

‘I’d rather stand,’ I insisted. ‘If you’re going to tell me Nana is dead, I’d rather stand.’

‘She died last night. There was a power failure, and the backup generator didn’t work for whatever reason. By the time the power came back on, it was too late. I’m sure she didn’t suffer much.’

‘How do you know?’ I asked.

‘How do I know what?’ Imogen replied.

‘That she didn’t suffer much! How can you possibly know?’

Imogen said nothing.

‘You don’t know! Maybe it was horrible! While you slept, maybe she choked and gasped and her skin felt like fire and she thought her eyes would pop out of her head and she prayed for it all to be over . . .’

Imogen reached out to put her hand on my arm. ‘Please, Annie, don’t do this.’

‘Don’t touch me!’ I pulled my arm away. I could feel my old rage returning. I slipped into it easily, like a tailored suit. ‘Your whole job was to make sure that those machines kept running! You’ve failed miserably! You’re a failure and an idiot and a murderer!’

‘No, Annie. Never,’ Imogen protested.

Leo came into the room. ‘Annie, why are you yelling at Imogen?’ he asked.

But I couldn’t be bothered to address my brother. I was in that angry fugue state. ‘Maybe someone paid you to unplug Nana’s machine?’

Imogen began to cry. ‘Annie, why would I ever do that?’

‘How should I know? People will do all sorts of things for money. And my family has many enemies.’

‘How can you say these things to me? I loved Galina just as I love you and your entire family. It was her time. She told me as much. I know she told you, too. Or at least, she tried to.’

‘Nana’s dead?’ Leo asked in a panicked voice. ‘Are you saying that Nana is dead?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘She died last night. Imogen let her die.’

‘That isn’t true,’ Imogen replied.

‘Get out of our house,’ I ordered her. ‘And don’t ever come back.’

‘Please, Anya. Let me help. You have to make arrangements for the body. You shouldn’t have to do this alone,’ Imogen pleaded.