In the Age of Love and Chocolate (18 page)

But I did not leave.

His eyes were wide and panicked. “Please leave. I don’t want you here.”

“Yuji, you are my husband.”

“It is only a business arrangement.”

“You are my friend, then.”

“You do not have to do anything for me. I do not expect this kind of service from you.” He shook his head.

I went over to him. “This is nothing to be ashamed of,” I said. “This is just life.” I helped him out of bed and to the bathroom, where I drew him a bath. I barely felt his weight.

“Please leave me,” he whimpered.

“I won’t,” I said. “Not because of our arrangement, but because of everything you’ve done for me. You saved my brother’s life. You smuggled me out of the country. You told a silly teenage girl to demand more of herself. Even now, you offer me everything you have. Helping you when you are sick hardly makes us even.”

He bowed his head.

I helped him out of his damp clothes and into the bath. I ran hot water over a tough, natural sponge and washed his back. He closed his eyes.

“Many months ago, I was even sicker than I am now. The pain was worse. They were still trying to cure me then, but I knew it was hopeless,” he said. “I asked Kazuo to kill me. I handed him my father’s samurai sword. I said, ‘You must cut off my head so that I can die with some honor.’ Tears in his eyes, he refused. He said, ‘You have time. I will not steal that time from you. Use your time, Ono-san.’ He was right. I began to think of what I wanted to do with the end of my days. Yours was the face that kept coming back to me. And so when I was well enough, I went to America to see if I could convince you to marry me. I was not sure that you would.”

“I honor my debts.”

“But I had another plan for if you hadn’t come. My alternate plan was to track down Sophia and murder her. I hate her for doing this to me.”

“I hate her, too.” I wrung out the sponge.

“Promise me you will kill her if you ever see her again.”

For a moment, I considered his request. “I won’t do that, Yuji. I’m not in the murder business and neither are you.”

We had been raised like wolves, Yuji and I. He thought it was perfectly fine to ask me to kill for him, but too much of an imposition to ask for help into the bath.

XVII

I BRIEFLY TEND TO BUSINESS AT HOME; LIFE GOES ON WITHOUT ME

A
ND THEN I WAS BACK IN BOSTON.
I was relieved to be among English speakers again and to be with Natty, though nothing I did that weekend felt quite real. It was strange to be among people my age, people who were still in school, people who hadn’t married or run businesses. The resident adviser at her dorm was a goofy, cute, dark-haired boy named Vikram. He shook my hand and promised to take good care of my sister. “How long are you in Boston, Natty’s sister?” he asked. “I could show you some cool places.”

I showed him my wedding band. “I’m married, and I’ve already seen some places.”

“You have been so quiet this weekend,” Natty said. We were lying on her bed, which we had just outfitted with fresh white sheets.

“I’m jet-lagged,” I said.

“I could have managed myself. You didn’t have to come.”

“Natty, I would never miss this.” I rolled over and kissed my sister on her smooth, pink cheek.

Toward the end of the weekend, I turned on my slate. I thought about contacting Win, but I didn’t. It would have seemed disloyal to Yuji, though I’m not sure why I felt that way. Win had not been my boyfriend for over two years now, and I doubted he ever would be again. It would have been pleasant to see him, though.

*   *   *

I stopped in New York and then San Francisco on my way back to Japan. In New York, I found that Theo had moved out of the apartment. When I went into the office, he did not ask about my marriage. He was all business.

“Anya, Luna says that you require more cacao to supply the five new locations in Japan. At first I didn’t know if we could do it—Granja Mañana is only so big, you know? But then she researched the matter and found that we could buy a derelict coffee farm about fifteen miles away from Granja Mañana. I need to know if you are serious about needing that cacao.”

“I am serious,” I said.

“
Bueno.
We will do this then.” He smiled at me, but it was not a warm smile. It was a professional one. And then Theo left. It was as if we had never meant anything to each other.

I had wondered if he might quit or go back to Mexico. He hadn’t, and I admired him for it. He had taken an apartment across town. My fallen-woman status wasn’t enough reason for him to leave the Dark Room. He loved our business. He loved what we had built even though he hated me.

With Theo gone, Scarlet was happy to have my apartment to Felix and herself. “I suppose some year we’ll have to get our own place,” she said as we sat in the living room.

“Why?”

“To prove I’m a grownup, something like that. I mean, I can’t be thirty and living in my best friend’s apartment. And I’ve been on the Upper East Side my whole life. It might be nice to see another part of town. Also, I don’t know anyone who lives up here anymore.” She’d been doing more theater, and she reported that most of her friends lived downtown or in the boroughs.

“Do you hear from”—I lowered my voice in case Felix was listening—“Gable?”

“He sends some money, not that often, and he sent a football for Felix’s second birthday. An
adult
football.” She rolled her eyes.

“I guess he was thinking ahead. Felix’ll be using that in about ten years.”

“He’ll be using that
never
.” She scooped the toddler up from the floor where he was playing with blocks and wearing a tiny kimono I’d bought in Japan and said to him, “Mama doesn’t want a big, dumb football spoiling that handsome face.” Felix kissed her and then he kissed me.

“He kisses everyone,” Scarlet explained. “He’s very into kissing.”

“So were you.”

“Shut up,” Scarlet said, laughing. “Anyway, what’s better than kissing? I’m
still
into kissing.” She sighed. “God, I miss kissing.”

Felix kissed her again.

“Thank you, Fee. So, Anya my darling bestest friend, should we discuss the fact that you’re married?” Scarlet asked.

“There’s not much to report,” I said.

*   *   *

I had lunch with Mouse. As the new locations of the Dark Room had begun to open across the country, we’d managed to convert almost 90 percent of the Balanchines to legal employment. We toasted to our successes and talked about old times.

“I ran into Rinko,” she said. “Do you remember her?”

“Of course I remember her.”

“Well, she didn’t even recognize me. I was introduced to her as Kate Bonham, Balanchine crime boss, and she didn’t even register that I was Mouse, the girl she had tormented for three years at Liberty. I thought surely she’d connect you with me, but she didn’t.”

“Is she still in coffee?” I asked.

“She is. The coffee people are having a rough time of it.”

“Those Rimbaud laws are as stupid on coffee as they are on chocolate.”

“I know it,” Mouse said.

“Anything else we should discuss?”

“Well, the Russians have been silent a while. I don’t necessarily like it or trust it. However, I’ve heard that they’re channeling their excess supply to other families and to other countries. So maybe they’ve made peace with the fact that the Balanchines are out of the chocolate business.” She took a drink. “Maybe knowing that messing with Balanchine means messing with Ono was enough to calm everyone down. Who knows? I doubt it though. We’ll definitely hear from them again.

“Congratulations on your marriage, by the way,” Mouse said. “I was going to get you a present, but I wasn’t sure what you’d want.”

“What to buy for the
mafiya
daughter entering an inevitably tragic marriage of convenience.”

“It’s hard, right? She’s the girl who has everything.”

“I guess what I’d like is for no one in this Family to have to take a job dealing illegal chocolate ever again.”

“I’m trying, Anya.”

“I know you are.”

We shook hands. Neither of us were the hugging kind.

“Anya, wait. Before you go. Thank you.”

“For what, Mouse?”

“For recommending me to Fats. For trusting me with so much more than anyone ever had. For never asking me what my crime was. For everything, my whole life really. I don’t think you have any idea how much you’ve saved me.”

“Loyal friends are hard to come by, Mouse.”

*   *   *

The last person I saw before I left town was Mr. Delacroix. He took me out to dinner to celebrate my marriage. A restaurant had opened across the street from the Dark Room. There had not been a new restaurant on that block for a decade.

Mr. Delacroix was contemplating a run for mayor. He had gotten quite a bit more popular since helping me open the Dark Room. If he did run, I knew it would mean that he would have to leave the business.

“I’m not certain married life agrees with you,” he said. “You look very tired.”

“The travel.” I used my standard excuse.

“I suspect it is more than that.”

I gave him my haughtiest look. “We don’t speak of our personal lives, colleague,” I said.

“Fine, Anya.”

The waiter offered us dessert. I declined, but Mr. Delacroix ordered the pie. “If you were my daughter—” he said.

“I am not your daughter.”

“But let us suspend disbelief and imagine that you are. You remind me of her a bit, you know. If you were my daughter, I would tell you to let go of any guilt you might be feeling. You made a decision. Maybe it was right; maybe it was wrong. But the decision is done. There is nothing you can do now except continue moving ahead.”

“Have you made decisions you regret?”

“Anya. Look who you are talking to. I am the king of regrets. But I might very well be mayor in two years. Life is turnabouts, my dear. Look at us. Wasn’t I the worst enemy of your seventeenth year of life? And now I am your friend.”

“I wouldn’t overstate matters, Mr. Delacroix. It has already been established that we are colleagues, nothing more. I saw your son at Natty’s graduation, by the way.”

“I know.”

“You always know everything.”

“Win told me. He said, ‘I am glad you helped her open the business, Dad,’ or something to that effect. He said that—wait for it—he had been wrong. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. One is never prepared for one’s son to say something so shocking as, ‘Dad, you were right.’”

“Well, isn’t that good news come too late?” I twisted my wedding band around my finger.

“My dear, it is never too late. Now won’t you finish this pie of mine? And please get a good night’s sleep. You have a long flight tomorrow.”

“Mr. Delacroix,” I said. “If you do decide to run for mayor, you will have my complete support.”

“You have decided you won’t miss me at the Dark Room.”

“No, it isn’t that. I would miss your counsel more than I can say. However, I’m willing to sacrifice you to the greater good. In these years we have worked together, you have steered me right every time. Whenever I would listen, that is. And having seen the Bertha Sinclairs of this world in action, I would rather back you.”

“Thank you, Anya. The support and compliments of a colleague are always appreciated.”

XVIII

I MOURN AGAIN

I
N OSAKA, THE END OF SEPTEMBER
was the height of typhoon season, and my flight was delayed by weather for several days. When I finally arrived, the rains were pummeling the ground and the sole view from my window was a curtain of rain. Normally such a vista might have soothed me, but, on this occasion, it did not. Based on my conversations with Yuji’s bodyguard and Yuji himself, and based on what was and was not being said, I had begun to be frightened that I would not see my husband before he died.

I went straight to his room. He was hooked up to an oxygen tank. He hated such measures, so I knew the end must be near. Every time I saw him, there was less of him. I had a strange thought: if Yuji did not die, perhaps he would simply disappear.

“I promised not to die while you were away,” he said.

“It looks as if you barely kept that promise.”

“How was America?”

I told him of my adventures, eking more excitement and humor out of my travels than there had actually been. I wanted to amuse him, I suppose. He reported the progress that had been made with the Japanese clubs. We spoke of our parents, none of whom were living. Without thinking, I asked him to say hi to my mother, my father, and my nana if he happened to see them in Heaven.

He smiled at me. “I think you know I am not going to Heaven, Anya. One, I am not a good man. And two, I don’t believe in such a place. I didn’t know you believed either.”

“I’m weak, Yuji,” I said. “I believe when it is convenient for me to believe. I don’t want to think that you might end up nowhere, in some black void.”

The rain cleared, and though his doctor was against it, he wanted to go for a walk. The grounds of the estate were lovely, and despite the humidity, I was glad to be outside.

The act of walking and talking soon proved too much for Yuji Ono, and even with his oxygen tank in tow, he quickly lost his breath. We stopped at a bench by a koi pond. “I do not like dying,” he said mildly after his breathing had regulated.

“You say that as if you’re speaking of a food you dislike. I do not like broccoli.”

“I don’t remember you being funny,” he said. “It is my upbringing. We are taught to keep much inside. But I don’t like dying. I would rather be alive to fight, to plan, to plot, to connive, to win, to betray, to eat chocolate, to drink sake, to tease, to make love, to laugh my head off, to leave my mark on this world…”

“I’m sorry, Yuji.”

“No. I don’t want your pity. I only want to tell you that I don’t like it. I don’t like the pain. I don’t like the affairs of my physical body being a matter of daily discussion. I don’t like looking like a zombie.”

“You’re still handsome,” I told him. He was.

“I’m a
zombie
.” He smiled at me crookedly. “We should be like the fish,” Yuji said. “Look at them. They swim, they eat, they die. They don’t make such a production of these little things.”