All These Things I've Done (26 page)

I didn’t say anything.

‘I worry about you. The way you keep everything inside, Annie. It’s not healthy.’ Mr Kipling laughed. ‘Though I don’t know who I am to be giving health advice.

‘Annie, there’s something you and I haven’t discussed. I hesitate to even bring it up, but I feel I must.’

‘Yes?’

‘The Delacroix boy,’ Mr Kipling said. Of course, he’d seen the news stories just like everyone else. ‘Silverstein has finally announced his retirement, which means that Charles Delacroix will surely declare his candidacy for DA any day now. And when he does, it will bring attention to him and everyone in his orbit.’

Yes, I understood what he was getting at, and it was something I’d thought of many times myself. I’d said as much to Scarlet back in November. ‘You think I should end it with Win?’

‘No, I’d never presume to tell you that, Anya. But the timing of things – of Galina’s death and Leo becoming your guardian and Mr Delacroix’s political aspirations – might not be ideal. I wouldn’t be a good adviser to you if I didn’t at least pose the following question: is this relationship worth the potential scrutiny?’

My brain said no.

But my heart!

‘You don’t have to answer right now,’ Mr Kipling said. ‘We’ll be in touch a great deal over the next several weeks.’

Through the glass door, I could see Simon Green beckoning us back into the living room.

Mr Kipling apologized for Simon Green. ‘He shouldn’t have suggested the autopsy in front of your brother. Simon means well and he isn’t without intelligence, but I’m afraid he still has much to learn.’

Mr Kipling and I went back into the living room, where the undertakers needed Mr Kipling to sign some paperwork regarding the transfer of Nana’s body. At the moment, Nana’s body was on a gurney, enclosed in a black vinyl bag with a zipper that ran down the middle. Seeing her there, it occurred to me that no priest had given Nana last rites. I worried for her soul and mine.

‘No one gave her last rites,’ I said to Mr Kipling. ‘She told me she was dying, but I didn’t listen! I could have gotten her a priest. It’s all my fault.’

‘Annie,’ Mr Kipling said gently, ‘your grandmother wasn’t a Catholic.’

‘But I am!’ I moaned. ‘And I don’t want her to go to Hell!’

Mr Kipling said nothing. We both knew that Nana had done some hard things in her life, and it wasn’t worth pretending that it was otherwise. Galina Balanchine would have needed every possible advantage if she were to have any chance of making it to Heaven.

That night, after Nana’s body had left for the funeral home in Brooklyn, after I’d served Leo and Natty macaroni, after I’d stripped the bed in Nana’s room, after I’d confirmed with Mr Kipling that the Pool was an acceptable location for Nana’s wake, after I’d made Natty take a shower and put her to bed, after I’d given Leo an aspirin for a headache so bad it made him cry, after I’d prayed that Leo’s headache wouldn’t turn into a seizure, after I’d gone to bed myself, only to be woken by Natty having a nightmare, after I’d comforted my sister, after Leo called for me on my way back to my room (wanting me to please check and see that Nana’s window was open and her door was closed), after I’d done that and gone to bed a second time, after all these things I’d done, it was quiet. It was quieter than I could remember the apartment having been in years and years. The machines that had kept Nana alive had been so noisy and yet I had grown used to the noise, I suppose. And it was this strange, new silence that seemed noisy to me now. I couldn’t fall back asleep so I got out of bed and went into Nana’s room. As long as Nana had been ill, the room had always smelt a bit sour to me, and now it smelt like nothing. How quickly that had happened!

The room had been Daddy’s office before Nana had moved in with us. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this before, but it was the room where Daddy was murdered. The first night Nana came to stay with us, I had thought she was going to sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s old bedroom, but she told me that my parents’ room would be my new room – I had been sharing with Natty to that point – and that she would use Daddy’s office. Even though I was only nine, I didn’t think it was right that she should have to sleep where her own son was murdered (there had still been bloodstains on the rug!), and I told her it wouldn’t be a problem for me to bunk with Natty. ‘No, Anyaschka,’ she’d said. ‘If we don’t use this room, it will forever be the place where your father died. It will be a memorial when what it needs to be is a room. It is never a good idea to keep a coffin in the middle of one’s house, my darling. And besides, you are a big girl, and a big girl needs a room of her own.’ I didn’t entirely understand what she was saying at the time, and I can remember even being a little angry at her.
Daddy died in that room!
was what I had wanted to say.
Show some respect!
But now I realized how much strength it must have taken for her to sleep there. Daddy had been her only biological child: though she hadn’t let on, she must have been grieving, too.

I looked atop Nana’s nightstand and then in the drawer to see if she’d left me a note. Nothing except pills and Imogen’s copy of
David Copperfield.

I sat down on the bare mattress. I closed my eyes and imagined Nana saying,
Get a bar of chocolate and share it with someone you love.
I opened my eyes. No one would ever say those words to me again. No one would want me to have something sweet, just because. No one would care whom I shared my chocolate with. There was less love for me in the world than there had been even twenty-four hours ago. I buried my face in my hands and I did my best to cry without making any noise – I didn’t want to wake my siblings.

Nana had loved me.

She had really loved me.

And despite this, I was relieved that she was dead. (The truth of this made me cry even harder.)

I fell asleep in Nana’s room that night.

I woke to the sunrise, which I couldn’t see from my own west-facing bedroom. I could understand why Nana had liked this chamber. The closet was bigger than mine, and the morning light was spectacular.

Mr Kipling and I had discussed the importance of sticking to the regular routine, and especially of Natty and me needing to attend school as usual. And so we did. We were swollen-eyed and unprepared, but we were there.

I told Scarlet in fencing. She cried and said nothing particularly helpful.

I told Win at lunch. He wanted to know why I hadn’t called or told him earlier. ‘I would have come,’ he said.

‘There was nothing for you to do,’ I said.

‘Still,’ he insisted. ‘You shouldn’t have been alone.’

I couldn’t help thinking about my discussion with Mr Kipling. I looked at Win, and I wondered if I should give him up. More to the point, I wondered if I
could
give him up. ‘Win, do me a favour. Don’t tell your father about my grandmother dying yet.’

‘As if I would,’ he said. ‘I don’t tell him anything.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But I don’t want to end up a problem for your father to solve.’

Win changed the subject. ‘When’s the funeral?’ he asked. ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘There won’t be a funeral, just a wake at the Pool this Saturday. Family only.’ I didn’t think it was that great an idea that Win go with me.

‘If you don’t want me to come, you can just say, you know.’

‘It’s not that . . .’ Suddenly, I was exhausted. I’d slept very little, and I was having trouble being sensible.

‘It’s not as if I have nothing better to do than go to your grandmother’s funeral,’ Win said.

‘I’m tired,’ I said. ‘Can we discuss this later?’

‘Sure,’ Win said. ‘I’ll come over tonight. If I didn’t manage to say so before, I am incredibly sorry about your grandmother.’ He kissed me, though not in a sexy way. Gentle. Tender. Then the bell rang, and he had to get to his next class. I watched him jog across the chessboard cafeteria floor. His hips were slim and his shoulders were square and broad. He moved gracefully, almost like a dancer. From behind, it was obvious to me how much of a boy he still was. Yes, he was a boy. He was just a boy. It wouldn’t be easy, but I decided that if I had to, I could give him up. As a Catholic, I had learned early to accept renunciation as a part of life.

‘Anya Balanchine?’ Someone tapped me on the arm. It was one of Natty’s teachers. I’d never had her. She was new, had only been teaching a year or two, and had the sort of cartoonish enthusiasm one might expect in someone so inexperienced. ‘I’m Kathleen Bellevoir! I was hoping I’d run into you today! Do you have a moment to talk about your sister? I’ll walk you to your next class!’ It was all exclamation points with this lady.

I nodded. ‘Sure. If Natty was a little off in class today, well, we recently had a death in the family, and—’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that, but no, it’s nothing like that. The opposite, in fact! I wanted to talk to you because of how well she’s doing! Your sister has a gift, Anya.’

A what? ‘A gift? What subject do you teach again?’

‘Math,’ she said.

‘Math? Natty has a gift . . . in math?’ This was news to me.

‘And science, though I don’t have her for that subject. Listen,’ Miss Bellevoir said. ‘May I call you Annie?’

I shrugged.

‘That’s how Natty refers to you! She talks about you constantly!’

‘Well, thanks for telling me about Natty’s gift,’ I said.

‘You see, there’s this camp in Massachusetts for gifted children. Eight weeks in the summer. It’s a chance for Natty to be with other children like herself. She needs a sponsor and I’d be willing to accompany her.’

‘Why would you be willing to do that?’

‘I . . . Only because I believe in Natty.’

‘What would you want for it?’ I asked. ‘You must want something.’

She blushed. ‘No. Nothing! Except to see Natty be as successful as she deserves to be.’

I could not even begin to think about this. I had to worry about Nana’s wake and social services and about a million other things.

Miss Bellevoir continued. ‘I sent in an application for her several months ago.’

‘You did what?’ Who the hell did this woman think she was?

‘I apologize if I overstepped. Your sister has a truly extraordinary mind, Annie. The most extraordinary mind I’ve come across in all my years of teaching.’

How long had that been? Like, two years?

‘Oh, you’re probably thinking that I haven’t been teaching very long. Let’s add my years of being in school, too. Natty could be the person who solves the water problem, for instance. Or anything. Anything . . .’ She sighed. ‘Listen, Annie, I do have a selfish reason for wanting to help your sister. Simply put, I’m tired of how awful things have gotten. Don’t tell me you’ve never asked yourself why things are the way they are. Why we devote all our resources to trying to compensate for our lack of resources. Can you honestly remember the last time anyone in our society came up with anything new? Other than a law, of course. And do you know what happens to a society of old things? It withers and dies. We are living in the Dark Ages, and half the people don’t even seem to know it. We can’t go on like this forever!’ Miss Bellevoir paused. ‘Forgive me. When I’m passionate, I sometimes end up sounding muddled. My point is that Natty is someone who could honestly do anything. Minds like hers are our only hope and, as her teacher, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let such a resource go to waste.’

Natty had always gotten good grades, but this was ridiculous. ‘If she’s so extraordinary, why hasn’t anyone pointed this out to me before?’

‘I don’t know,’ Miss Bellevoir said. ‘Perhaps they were intimidated by your family. Or perhaps they saw Natty through a certain lens because of that.’

‘You mean they were prejudiced?’ I clenched my jaw.

‘But I
am
new, and I have fresh eyes. And I’m telling you now.’

We were outside Mr Beery’s classroom. She told me she would send me more information. Miss Bellevoir was a busybody, but I decided that she wasn’t a bad sort.

‘I have to discuss this with my . . .’ I almost said grandmother. ‘My brother and our attorney.’

‘Natty says that you make all the decisions in your family,’ Miss Bellevoir said. ‘That you’re everyone’s protector.’

‘She shouldn’t say things like that,’ I said.

‘Must be a lot of burden for one person,’ Miss Bellevoir said.

Truthfully, it annoyed me that someone else, some stranger, had observed things in Natty that I had not. I felt as if I had failed my sister. ‘If Natty’s such a genius, why didn’t I ever notice?’

‘It’s hard to see things that are right in front of us sometimes,’ Miss Bellevoir said. ‘But I’m telling you, what she has is precious. And it needs to be encouraged and protected.’ Miss Bellevoir squeezed my hand. Then she winked at me and nodded as if we were conspirators.

I opened the door to the classroom. Miss Bellevoir waved to Mr Beery to let him know that I had been with her. He nodded. ‘Nice of you to join us, Ms Balanchine,’ he said.

‘I was with Miss Bellevoir. Didn’t you see?’

Mr Beery said nothing.

‘I mean, I saw you wave at her,’ I said. ‘So you must have seen.’

‘That’s enough, Ms Balanchine. Have a seat.’

Instead of sitting down at my desk, I walked to the front of the classroom and put my face right up against his face. ‘I think you did see,’ I continued. ‘You just like being sarcastic. You enjoy belittling us, don’t you? You enjoy the teeny tiny bit of power you have. You play us against each other so that you can win our favour. It’s pathetic.’

‘You’re being inappropriate,’ he said.

‘And when I say
it
’
s,
I actually mean
you.
You’re pathetic,’ I replied.

I picked up my bag and began heading towards the principal’s office.

Mr Beery yelled, ‘Go! To! The principal!’

‘I’m ahead of you there,’ I said.

Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to school the day after Nana died after all.

The principal wasn’t that tough on me on account of the death in my family. One day of suspension starting tomorrow. This could hardly be called a punishment. Just a chance for me to stay home. I probably should have done that in the first place. I had felt pretty sluggish all day.