Because It Is My Blood

by Gabrielle Zevin

  “What is important?”

  “In a marriage, shared sensibility, mutual interests, and a common goal.”

  “That isn’t very romantic,” I said.

  “Do you want me to pantomime a schoolgirl’s fantasy of romantic love? Should I get down on one knee? Should I tell you that I think you are beautiful? I should think you were past the need for such meaningless gestures.”

  The truth was, I think I would have preferred the show, but it was too late for that. I decided to repeat my question. “What happens if I refuse you?”

  Yuji nodded. “Well, we would go our separate ways. I would not be your explicit enemy though I certainly could not forget that you would not grant me the favor you owed.”

  “Yuji, ask me for anything else!”

  “There is nothing else you have that I want.” His voice was calm as always, and I found this infuriating.

  “What you ask is more than a favor. You know very well that you aren’t playing fair when you make such a request.”

  “Why is it not fair?” Finally, he was beginning to sound as frustrated as I felt. “That I like you makes me want to join forces with you instead of destroy you. Isn’t that enough for you? For people like us, marriages are business arrangements, nothing more. My father thought so and your father would have told you the same thing if he were still alive.”

  All he said sounded reasonable, except that he was completely wrong.

  “Why is it not fair?” Yuji repeated.

  “Because it is my heart!”

  “Because you love someone else?”

  “Why should that matter to you, Yuji? You don’t want my love anyway. You just want my compliance.” I started to walk back to the house. Yuji grabbed my shoulder.

  “Anya, take the night to think about what I have asked you. Think of your situation. And the situation of your sister and of your brother. I do not mean this as a threat, but as a statement of fact. I have been your devoted friend, and I would like to be even more than that if you let me.”

  I shook my head.

  “As I said, do take the night to think about it. I will come see you before I leave.” He bowed his head, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of papers tied with a red ribbon. “Here. This is your gift.”

  “What is it?”

  “Letters,” he said. “From your family and your friends. Simon Green collected them for me to give to you.”

  I took the small bundle from him. I had never received a paper letter from anyone. “Thank you,” I said. “Really, thank you so much.”

  “If you reply tonight, I can bring letters back to the United States. I’m not going back there for at least a month, though. I should see your brother very soon, however.”

  I didn’t know if I could trust him anymore, but I thanked him for the offer.

  Yuji had already started walking back to the main house to say goodbye to the Marquezes when I realized that I had left my machete against a cacao tree. I told Yuji I would see him later and I ran back out to the orchard. In the clearing was Theo. He was carrying my machete and he had a sheepish expression.

  “Theo!” I yelled. “Were you back there the whole time?”

  Uncharacteristically, Theo would not reply.

  “Did you hear my entire conversation? Were you spying on me?”

  “Listen, Anya, it is nothing like that. I just followed you out to the orchard to make sure you were safe. I don’t know this Yuji guy very well.”

  “So you were spying on me!”

  “Perdóname. It is none of my business.”

  “Theo!” My heart was racing. I honestly wanted to strangle him. “You know who I am then. You know my name.”

  Theo sighed.

  “Say my name, Theo.”

  “Anya, I have known who you were for weeks now. Ever since you told me about your family being killed, I was able to piece it together. Why do you think I only engraved one initial on your machete handle?”

  “Did you tell anyone else about me?”

  “Of course not. I told no one. Do you think I have no honor? It is like I told you: Theobroma Marquez is a safe.”

  “But you heard everything just now?”

  “Sí. Lo siento.” Theo paused. “You cannot marry this man, Anya. He is a bully, and in my opinion, he is no gentleman.”

  Despite the conversation I had had with Yuji, I could not see him the way Theo did. I told Theo I was tired even though the only part of me that was really tired was my mouth. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I wanted to go up to my room to be alone with my letters so that was what I did.

  IX

  I RECEIVE LETTERS FROM HOME

  12.7.2083

  Dear Anya,

  I hope these letters find you well and that your voyage to XXXXXX was not too difficult. Anticipating XXXX XXX’s visit to XXXXXX, Mr. Green and I collected these in hopes that they would reach you before the holidays. For the record, I did debate the wisdom of assembling this package as, should it be intercepted the letters could potentially be incriminating. However, after strongly cautioning the writers, I ultimately decided that the benefits outweighed the risks. Your father, who I served before you, would have wanted you to know during the holiday season that your friends and family have noted your absence.

  On to business.

  Re: the matter of Nataliya’s guardianship

  I have filed the paperwork, and all is proceeding as we discussed.

  Re: the manner in which you left New York

  Though there was some interest in your disappearance in the days after, the official word from the city is that they have neither the resources nor the manpower to devote to tracking down Anya Balanchine.

  Re: when you will be able to return

  There is a new regime at the DA’s office and I do not know if they will be sympathetic to our interests or not.

  Re: your uncle Yuri

  He is still alive.

  Re: the Family business

  Mr. Green believes that Fats may be trying to take a more active role in the company.

  Know that you are often in my thoughts and Keisha’s and Grace’s as well.

  Happy holidays,

  S. Kipling, Esq.

  December 5, 2083

  Dearest Sister,

  (Do you like the greeting? I saw it in one of Imogen’s books.)

  Well, it’s been almost two months since you left. At first I was mad, but then Simon Green explained that you couldn’t tell anyone where you were going or even that you were going and so I’ve more or less forgiven you. That’s the nice thing about sisters, if I do say so myself.

  Things have been tolerable—at first I wrote “okay,” but I thought you’d prefer a better word here. The day after you left, they came to search the house but they didn’t find anything.

  School is tolerable, too.

  Win comes to see me sometimes. He is so nice, Anya. Seriously, he is the nicest boy in the world. He walks me to class sometimes, too, and he even came over for part of Thanksgiving.

  Oh, Charles Delacroix lost the election! Did you hear that where you are? I think Win was happy that he lost, but he stood by his dad’s side at the concession speech.

  The other thing that happened is that Scarlet is pregnant. I know she’s writing you a letter so I guess you’ll hear more about that from her. She isn’t saying who the baby’s father is, but everyone thinks it’s Gable Arsley even though he isn’t her boyfriend anymore. People are being kind of mean to Scarlet at school. I found her crying in the third-floor bathroom one day, and she said how much she missed you and wished you were here. She was so sad. (The funny thing is, I had gone up there to cry myself.)

  Well, that’s about it. I think about you all the time. I wonder where you are, and I hope everyone’s being nice to you there.

  Like I said before, I’m not mad, Anya, but I wish you had told me where you were going. I am your sister, and I would rather have decided for myself whether to come with
you. I don’t mean to complain.

  Your Loving Sister,

  Nataliya Balanchine

  P.S. Are you okay with the plan to have Mr. Kipling become our guardian?

  P.P.S. I don’t want to bother you, but when will you be home?

  P.P.P.S. Writing a letter is harder than I thought it would be.

  P.P.P.P.S. I haven’t had that many nightmares.

  30 November 2083

  Anya,

  A brief note to let you know that Natty is fine. She misses you a great deal, but your friends Win and Scarlet have done their best to cheer her up. I admit that the apartment does feel large without you, and we consume peas at an even slower rate than before. We all hope you can return soon. I have not been told where you are, but I know it can be a disorienting experience to be away from home for the first time. Here is a quote from one of my favorite novels—I believe you will readily recognize which one: “It is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to feel itself quite alone in the world, cut adrift from every connection, uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted. The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation, the glow of pride warms it; but then the throb of fear disturbs it; and fear with me became predominant, when half an hour elapsed and still I was alone. I bethought myself to ring the bell.” It seems to me good advice, Anya. If all else fails, ring the bell.

  Imogen Goodfellow

  My Darling Annie,

  My life has fallen into utter tragedy!

  Do you remember how I threw up when you were in the hospital at Liberty? Well, I never got the flu, and I thought, Oh, Scarlet, how lucky you are! But then I kept throwing up every afternoon at exactly the same time, and it turned out that I, your silly, love-crossed friend, was pregnant! And by Gable Arsley, that monster. I haven’t told him it’s his, but he knows, I’m sure he knows. Actually, I haven’t even spoken to him since the day we broke up. He tries to talk to me, but I ignore him. I don’t care. I would never raise a baby with him. I wouldn’t even raise a kitten with him. I wouldn’t even raise a stuffed kitten with him.

  As for being pregnant … The biggest tragedy is that I was cast to be Juliet in Fall Shakespeare and then that beast Mr. Beery threw me out of the play when I told him I was with child! Can you imagine, Anya? The show goes on without me.

  Also, my breasts are now as big as yours. Where before I had kiwis now I have grapefruit! I am not terribly fat yet but soon I’ll have to get a Trinity skirt with an elastic waist! Can you imagine? Scarlet Barber in an elastic waist?

  Also, also, I have no friends. All the drama people are busy in the play, and everyone else is kind of ignoring me. Win is pretty much my only friend these days. He talks about you constantly. It would be incredibly boring if I didn’t miss you so much myself.

  Guess who almost joined you in the ranks of “girls expelled from Holy Trinity”? Apparently, getting pregnant is frowned upon by Catholic schools. Who knew? Since I’m a senior, they’re letting me stay even though it has been made clear to me that I am little more than a walking cautionary tale.

  While we are on the subject … How could I have been such a fool as to sleep with Gable Arsley? Yes, he said he loved me. But he said that to you, too, and you managed to keep your legs together, didn’t you?

  I’m sure there are a million other things I meant to say to you, but I am sleepy. All I want to do is nap lately. And eat chocolate if I could figure out where to get any.

  Merry Christmas, Annie, my love.

  Je t’aime! Je t’aime! Je t’aime!

  Scarlet

  Anya:

  Mr. Kipling asked me not to write you about the business until we have more solid information but I feel that I must. I believe that your cousin Fats is making moves to seize the business from Yuri and Mickey. If that happens, Balanchine Chocolate will be left in utter disarray. Fats is a small-time guy with no understanding of the larger organizational politics at play. I am at present trying to arrange for your return. I have meetings set with Bertha Sinclair in January to see what can be done. When the time comes, I will contact you.

  Remember, Anya. You are still the daughter of Leonyd Balanchine. You have more claim than Yuri, Mickey, or Fats. The sooner you can come home, the better. Even an Anya Balanchine back in Liberty is superior to an Anya Balanchine that no one can see or talk to. Apologies if I have overstepped my place.

  Your humble servant,

  Simon Green, Esq.

  Annie,

  This is not a love letter.

  I think you would laugh at me if I wrote you a love letter, so I’m not going to. If this accidentally becomes one, you have my permission to throw it in the fire.

  So, here it is:

  I ate an orange, and I thought of you.

  I did a lab on tissue decomposition, and I thought of you.

  I took the train to visit my sister’s grave in Albany, and I thought of you.

  The band played the Fall Formal, and I thought of you.

  I saw a girl with dark curly hair on the street, and I thought of you.

  I took your kid sister to Coney Island—she’s the only one who is as blue as I am. Natty’s the smartest kid in the world and good company. Still, I thought of you.

  You have often said that you think the only reason I ever liked you was because of who my father is—that I liked you because my father wished I wouldn’t. Well, it might interest you to know that Dad lost the election. He’s out of politics, and I still like you.

  There it is.

  This is not a love letter.

  Win

  * * *

  I read my letters, then reread them. I put them to my face so I could feel where my friends’ hands had been. I even tried to smell the letters, but they didn’t smell like anything except ink and fresh paper. (If you’ve never smelled it, ink is oddly bitter, like blood almost.)

  After so much time of hearing nothing, the news was overwhelming. When I left New York, I buried Anya Balanchine, and in Mexico, I had become this other girl. I liked this other Anya, but reading these letters reminded me that I couldn’t be her forever.

  A knock at my door. “May I come in?” Theo asked.

  I stuffed the passel of letters under my pillow.

  “Yes,” I said. Theo entered, closing the door behind him. “I was told boys weren’t allowed in the girls’ rooms at Casa Mañana,” I said.

  “This is a special case. I thought you might need to talk,” Theo said.

  He already knew my secret, and so I decided to unburden myself to him. It was the first time I had had a true confidant since Nana.

  Theo didn’t interrupt me and he was silent a while before speaking. “Here is what you do. First, you do not marry this Yuji Ono. He does not love you, Anya, and it is obvious that he is only interested in expanding his influence. Second, do not go back to New York”—he paused—“ever.”

  “But Simon Green said that everything is falling apart. And Yuji, whatever his interest, said the same thing.”

  Theo shrugged. “What difference does it make if the chocolate company falls apart? One set of crooks or another. What is it to you? Why do you care if it’s the end of Balanchine Chocolate? This company has only brought you pain.”

  I considered what he said. “I … I suppose I care because my father built that company. And if Balanchine Chocolate dies, it will be like my father dies all over again.”

  Theo nodded slowly. “You love Balanchine Chocolate like I love cacao.”

  “I wouldn’t say love, Theo.”

  “No, you speak the truth. Love isn’t right. It isn’t right for me either. Sometimes I hate cacao.” Theo looked at me. “You don’t love Balanchine Chocolate. You are Balanchine Chocolate.”

  “Yes. I suppose I am.”

  “You have to go back. But I also think it is no good if you are in too much of a rush. You should let your lawyers do the job of arranging your return. Until then, you c
an help me prepare the next harvest.”

  “Thank you, Theo.” I did feel better having discussed this with someone.

  “De nada.” Theo stood and walked to the door. Suddenly, he stopped. “Anya, tell me one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Was there a letter from your boyfriend in that packet?”

  I laughed at Theo. “Sí, Theo, and it was ridiculously romantic.”

  “Read it to me.”

  “I’m not going to do that.”

  “What? It is good for me to know. Don’t you want me to learn from such a master Casanova as this Win?”

  I shook my head at Theo. I walked over to the door, kissed Theo on the cheek, and then pushed him out the door. “You should go. Quick, Theo, quick! Before Luz catches us!”

  * * *

  In the morning, when I went outside, Yuji Ono was waiting for me. “Let’s go speak in my car,” he said.

  The car was black with thick, tinted windows, possibly bulletproof glass. His driver was the same heavyset man I had seen in New York last spring when Nana died. Yuji asked the driver to leave, and then he opened the door for me so that I could join him in the backseat.

  “Yuji,” I began. I hadn’t been able to sleep the previous night because I’d been going over what I would say to him so many times. My words came out sounding rehearsed. “Yuji, first I want to thank you for your friendship. I have had no better friend than you. My family has had no better friend than you either.”

  Yuji bowed his head slightly, but said nothing.

  “I want to thank you very much for the offer of”—it was difficult for me even to say the word—“marriage. I know you wouldn’t make it lightly, and I am truly honored. But, after much consideration, I want you to know that my mind hasn’t changed. I am too young to marry anyone, and even if I weren’t young, I wouldn’t want to make a decision of this magnitude while I was away from home and while I have been out of contact with my advisers for so long.” I had on purpose decided not to mention anything about love.

  Yuji studied my face, and then he bowed his head. “I respect your decision.” He bowed his head again, this time even more deeply.

  I offered Yuji my hand to shake. “I hope we can still be friends,” I said.