All These Things I've Done (25 page)

‘Just get out,’ I said.

She stood there, but didn’t move.

‘Leave already!’

Imogen nodded. ‘Her body is still in her bed,’ she said before she finally left.

Leo was sobbing quietly, and I went up to him. I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t cry, Leo.’

‘I’m crying because I’m sad. Not because I’m weak or stupid.’

‘Of course you are. I’m sorry.’

Leo continued to cry, and I said nothing. In point of fact, I felt nothing except the embers of my rage mixed with anxiety over what my next steps should be. At some point, Leo began speaking again but I was so distracted that I had to ask him to repeat what he’d said. He had wanted to know if I’d meant everything I’d said to Imogen.

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know what I meant. I’m going in to look at Nana. Do you want to come?’

Leo shook his head.

I opened the door to Nana’s room. Nana’s eyes were closed and her gnarled hands were laid peacefully across her chest. I assumed Imogen had done that.

‘Oh, Nana.’ I took a deep breath and kissed her wrinkled cheek.

I became aware of the sound of whispering. Nana and I weren’t alone. Natty was kneeling by the window at the side of the bed, her head bowed in prayer.

Natty raised her head. ‘I just came in to tell her about the wedding . . . And . . . She’s dead.’ Her voice was small and childish, still barely above a whisper.

‘I know.’

‘It’s like my dream,’ Natty said.

‘No one’s turned to sand that I can see,’ I said.

‘Don’t make fun,’ Natty admonished me. ‘I’m serious.’

‘I’m not making fun. We all died in your dream, didn’t we? And in reality, Nana is the only one who’s dead. You knew this would happen some day. I told you as much last night.’ And in that moment, I began to realize just how ridiculous and wrong the things I’d said to Imogen had been. I regretted my behaviour and I wondered why my first response to anything was rage. Sadness, worry, fear – all of those emotions came out as rage for me. Maybe if I’d been braver in that moment, I would have cried.

‘Yes, I knew she would die,’ Natty admitted, ‘but part of me never really believed it.’

I suggested that we pray for Nana together. I took Natty’s hand and knelt down by the side of the bed.

‘Say something out loud for her,’ Natty implored me. ‘That thing they read at Daddy’s funeral.’

‘You remember that?’

Natty nodded. ‘I remember a lot of things.’

‘Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me, will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die . . .”’ I stopped. ‘I’m sorry, Natty, that’s all I know by heart.’

‘No, that was it,’ she said. ‘That was enough. It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? And it means she isn’t really dead. Not in any important way at least. It makes me feel so much less afraid somehow. Even less alone.’ There were tears in her eyes.

‘You aren’t alone, Natty. I’ll always be here for you. You know that.’ I wiped the tears from her cheeks.

‘But, Annie, what will we do now? You aren’t old enough to take care of us yet. Will Leo, then?’

‘Leo will be our guardian, yes. And I’ll go on taking care of everything else just as I always have. As far as you’re concerned, nothing will change, I swear.’ This, I realized, was how parents ended up lying to children. They promised certainties when all they had were pretty speculations. I prayed to God this would go down smoothly. ‘In fact, I should really go call Mr Kipling right now to begin making arrangements.’ There was so much to do. If I didn’t begin right away, the burden of it all might paralyse me. I took Natty by the hand and led her out of the room. I closed Nana’s door gently behind us. I went into my bedroom and immediately picked up the phone.

Mr Kipling had only recently returned to work after his heart attack. ‘Anya,’ he said, ‘I have Mr Green on the phone. He’ll be listening in from now on. It’s a precaution I’m taking in case I should have a recurrence, though I have no reason to believe this will be so.’

‘Hello, Simon,’ I said.

‘Hello, Ms Balanchine,’ Simon Green replied.

‘What can we do for you today?’ Mr Kipling asked.

‘Galina is dead.’ I kept my voice cool.

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Mr Kipling said.

‘I am, too,’ Simon Green added.

‘She was very old.’ It had already begun to feel as if I were speaking of someone I had barely known.

‘While I’m very sorry for your loss, I also want to reassure you, Anya. As you are well aware, everything has been arranged to make this transition as simple as possible for you and your siblings.’ Mr Kipling then said that he and Simon Green would come immediately to the apartment. ‘Is Leo with you?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Good. He’ll need to be in on these discussions.’

‘I’ll make sure he stays put. Should I call the funeral home?’

‘No, no,’ Mr Kipling said. ‘We’ll arrange that.’

I hung up the phone.

I had felt as if there were a million things I needed to do, and yet, for the moment, it seemed there was nothing but to wait for Mr Kipling and Simon Green to show up.

I wanted something to do.

I thought about calling Win, but the truth was, I didn’t really want him around. This was a time for family.

I lay down on my bed.

Oh, Nana. How many times had I wished that your suffering would be over, that you would die? And how many times had I prayed for the opposite, that you might live forever or at least until I was old enough to be Natty
’
s legal guardian?

And here it was, that day. And I felt nothing except perhaps guilty that I felt nothing. Maybe I had seen too many hard things in my life. But then, so had Leo and Natty, and they both had cried. What was wrong with me that I could not muster a tear for my grandmother, whom I had loved and who, I know, had loved me?

The doorbell rang, which was just as well. I didn’t wish to continue along this line of thought any more.

I went to answer it: Mr Kipling and Simon Green, of course. They had made exceptionally good time.

Mr Kipling, whom I once would have described as stout, had lost a great deal of weight since his heart attack. In his present manifestation, he looked a bit like a teddy bear with the stuffing removed.

‘Annie,’ said Mr Kipling. ‘Again, I am so very sorry for your loss. Galina was a magnificent woman.’

We went to the living room to sit down. Leo was still there. He hadn’t moved since Imogen had left.

‘Leo,’ I said.

He looked at me blankly. His eyes were nearly swollen shut from crying. He didn’t remotely resemble the confident man I’d seen in the last several months, and this worried me. Come on, Leo, I thought.

I continued. ‘Mr Kipling and Mr Green are here to discuss what happens now that Nana has passed.’

Leo stood. He blew his nose on an already soggy handkerchief, then said, ‘OK, I’ll just go to my room.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘You need to stay for this. You’re a very important part of everything that’s about to happen. Come and sit next to me.’

Leo nodded. He pulled his shoulders back and walked over to the sofa and sat down. Simon Green and Mr Kipling sat in the two armchairs across the coffee table from us.

First, we made plans for Nana’s funeral. This was simple, as Nana had left clear written instructions:
No open casket, no expensive coffin, no chemical preservation, no fancy marker, though I would like to be next to my son in the family plot in Brooklyn.

‘Do you want there to be an autopsy?’ Simon Green asked me.

‘Simon, I don’t think that’s necessary,’ Mr Kipling disciplined. ‘Galina had been sick for many years.’

‘Yes, well . . .’ Simon Green said. ‘What did lead up to her ultimate passing?’

I described what Imogen had said about the power failure.

‘Why didn’t the backup generator come on?’ Simon Green persisted.

‘I don’t know,’ I said.

‘You trust this Imogen, right?’ Simon Green asked. ‘No one could have gotten to her. Maybe paid her off or something? Someone who might have had a good reason for wanting Galina Balanchine dead.’

‘Who would have wanted Nana dead?’ Leo asked, his voice a bit quivery.

‘Simon, you’re being absurd and inappropriate.’ Mr Kipling shot Simon Green a warning look. ‘Imogen Goodfellow has worked for this family for years. She is as loyal and fine a worker as there is. As for the circumstances of Galina’s death? There is no mystery here. She was incredibly sick. It’s amazing she endured as long as she did. In the weeks leading up to her death, she and I had had several discussions about the inevitability of her condition and she even confessed to me that she suspected her time would be soon, that she had even begun to hope for such a time.’

‘She told me the same thing,’ I said. I looked at Leo. ‘She did.’

Leo nodded. Then he nodded again. Finally, he said, ‘But it wouldn’t hurt anything to have a . . .’ When Leo was upset, he sometimes lost language. ‘What he said’ – he pointed at Simon – ‘the thing where they find out why she died. Then we would know for sure, right?’

‘An autopsy, you mean?’

‘Yes, an autopsy,’ Leo repeated. ‘Annie always says that it is better to have more information than less.’

I admitted that I had only been chorusing Daddy.

Mr Kipling patted my brother on the hand. I winced, because there had been a time, and not too long ago either, when Leo couldn’t bear to be touched by anyone who wasn’t immediate family. But Leo was fine. He barely seemed to register the touch. ‘Actually, Leo, though usually I couldn’t agree more with your sister and your father about the power of information, in this instance, there are things having an autopsy could hurt. Would you mind if I explained to you what they are?’

Leo nodded, and Mr Kipling laid out his argument. ‘Your grandmother is dead. And nothing is going to change that fact. There is no reason to believe she died of anything but old age and the cumulative effects of her illness. But, if this family authorizes an autopsy, it will seem as if we’ve had reason to believe that there was another possible cause to her death. It will seem as if we believe there is more to this story, and that is the last thing this family needs.’

Leo nodded. ‘Why?’

‘Because you and your sisters cannot afford the exposure. You are certainly aware that, as the only sibling who is over eighteen, you are becoming Natty and Annie’s guardian?’

‘Yes,’ Leo said.

‘If the living arrangements of your family become a matter of public interest, Child Protection Services could try to take Natty and Annie away from you, Leo. You are very young and people are aware of your medical history. The authorities could send Natty and Annie to foster care if, for some reason, you were deemed an unfit parent.’

‘No!’ Leo yelled. ‘No! Never!’

‘Well, don’t worry, Leo. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that never happens,’ Mr Kipling said. ‘And this is why I’m advising you to make no moves that bring any unwanted attention to your immediate family. The folks at social services are entirely overwhelmed. No one will care about your living arrangements unless you give them reason to.’

There was a pause.

‘Yes . . . What you say . . . This makes sense to me,’ Leo said finally.

‘Good,’ said Mr Kipling.

‘Do you think Leo should give up his job?’ I asked.

‘I don’t want to do that!’ Leo roared.

‘He’s still working at the Pool,’ I explained.

Mr Kipling ran his fingers through the invisible hair on his bald head. ‘Ah yes. I never did resolve that situation at the animal clinic, did I? I apologize, Anya. My heart attack – but it’s really inexcusable on my part. Mr Green, would you make a note?’

Simon Green obeyed and said nothing. Indeed, he hadn’t said a word since suggesting the autopsy. His expression reminded me of a basset hound.

‘Do you enjoy your work at the Pool?’ Simon Green asked my brother.

‘Yes,’ said Leo. ‘Very much.’

‘What kind of things do they have you do?’

‘I get lunch for the men. And I get snacks and drinks, too. And I drop off the laundry.’

‘And they treat you well?’

‘Yes.’

‘I absolutely understand your concern, Anya, but I don’t think Leo should quit his job at the Pool,’ Mr Kipling concluded. ‘Even with the taint of organized crime, it is better that he appear to have been consistently employed.’ Mr Kipling looked in my brother’s eyes. ‘You must promise never to do anything dangerous or illegal. You are the protector of Anya and Nataliya now. And you are extremely important.’

Leo sat up straight and nodded solemnly. ‘I promise.’

‘Good,’ said Mr Kipling. ‘In terms of administration of this household, most everything else will continue as it always has.’ Of course, I already knew this. Mr Kipling was really speaking to Leo. ‘Your finances have been placed into a trust that I will manage until Annie is of age.’

Leo didn’t question these arrangements, nor was he insulted by them, as Nana had feared he might be. He accepted all of it unquestioningly, and this was a relief. Despite Simon Green’s gaffe, Mr Kipling had done well in making Leo feel valued. We went on a while, discussing plans for Nana’s modest service. Mr Kipling was adamant that the wake shouldn’t take place in our apartment, but that it needed to be at some private location where our mafiya relatives would feel comfortable paying their respects. ‘Mr Green and I will come up with something.’

We were just about finished with all the immediate business when the doorbell rang. It was the undertaker, come to take Nana’s body to the funeral home. Leo excused himself to his bedroom. (I think he was a little afraid of Nana’s corpse.)

‘Why don’t you go see if the undertaker needs any help?’ Mr Kipling said to Simon Green. Simon Green was being dismissed and he knew it.

Mr Kipling was perspiring, so I suggested we go out on to the balcony.

‘How is your health?’ I asked him.

‘Much better, thank you. I almost feel sixty-two per cent normal. Keisha is watching everything I eat. She doesn’t want me to accidentally end up getting something with flavour.’ He put his arm around my shoulders in a paternal way. ‘I know how much you loved Galina and how much she loved you. I know how sad you must be.’