Because It Is My Blood (18 page)

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Theo running toward me with his machete out.

“Don’t!”
I screamed.
“Theo, go inside!”
I didn’t want Theo to end up dead, too.

My scream must have startled the masked man because for one second he hesitated. The masked man turned just as Theo struck him on the shoulder with the blade of his machete. The gun went off. There was a silencer, so it made very little sound. I could see the spark of the gunfire. I could tell that Theo had been hit but I didn’t have time to figure out where. I picked up my own machete and I raised my arm. Without even thinking about it, I sliced off the masked man’s hand. It was his right hand, the hand that held the gun. It was tough, but my machete had just been sharpened and I’d had so much practice with the cacao pods.
(Aside: In retrospect, it would feel like the moment I’d been training for since November.)
The only major difference between slicing off a human hand and a cacao pod was the blood. So much blood. The blood sprayed across my face and my clothes, and for a moment, all I could see were out-of-focus spots of red. I wiped my eyes. The man had dropped his gun (and his hand) and I could see him clutching his wrist as he ran deep into the rain forest, into the dark. We were miles away from a hospital. He’d probably bleed to death.
“Ffffffiiiiickerrrrr,”
he howled. Or something like that, I couldn’t quite make it out.

I turned to where Theo lay on the ground.

“Are you okay?” I asked him. The light was fading, and I couldn’t see where he was bleeding.

“I’m…”

“Where were you hit?” I asked him.

“I don’t know.” He moved his hand weakly in the general direction of his chest area, and my heart began to petrify.

“Theo, I have to go inside to get help.”

He shook his head.

“Theo!”

“Listen to me, Anya. Don’t tell my mother what happened.”

“You’re being insane. I have to tell your mother what happened. I have to get you help.”

Theo shook his head. “I am going to die.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“Mama will blame you. It is not your fault, but she will blame you. Do not tell any of them who you are.”

Theo saying that made me sure it was my fault.

“I’m going now!” I pulled my hand from Theo’s grasp and I ran into the house.

The next several hours were a blur. Luz, Luna, and I put Theo on a stretcher we’d improvised out of bedsheets and then we dragged him to the truck and then we drove to the hospital, which was a half hour away. By that time, Theo had passed out.

I explained to Luz and Luna as best I could what had happened even though I couldn’t understand it myself.

When we got to the hospital, I repeated the story to the local police, and then they asked me questions, which Luna translated for me.
No, I didn’t know the man. No, I didn’t see his face. No, I don’t know why he was in the orchard. Yes, I cut off his hand. No, I didn’t take it with me. It should still be on the ground with his gun.

“And your name?” one of the cops asked.

I didn’t answer right away so Luna answered for me. “She is Anya Barnum. She is staying with us in order that she might learn the cacao business. She is Theo’s very good friend and a dear friend of our cousin, and I do not like the way you are questioning her.”

Finally, the police left to go see if they could find the gun and the hand and the one-handed masked man.

Luna patted me on the arm. “It is not your fault,” she said. “We have many rivals in cacao. It’s never turned to violence before but … I don’t understand any of this!” Luna began to weep.

A doctor came out to talk to us. “The bullet ricocheted through his lung and his esophagus. Theo’s condition is serious, but he is stable for now,” the doctor said in Spanish. “You could go home if you like.”

“Is he awake?” Theo’s mother asked.

The doctor said that Theo’s family could go in, so I went out to the lobby to try to place a call.

It was nearly ten, which meant it was nearly eleven in New York. I knew it was dangerous to call as it could potentially lead the authorities right to me, but I needed to talk to Mr. Kipling. I needed to go home.

I dialed Mr. Kipling’s home number. Though it was late, he answered the phone immediately and I could tell he was completely awake. When I said who it was, he didn’t even sound surprised to hear from me.

“Anya, how did you find out so quickly?”

For a second, I was confused. I wondered if he had somehow heard about Theo Marquez being shot. “How did
you
?” I asked.

“I … Your sister, Natty, called me. She’s here with me right now.”

“Why would Natty call you? Why is Natty with you? Why isn’t Natty at home?”

“Wait,” Mr. Kipling said. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing. Why don’t you speak first.”

“Theobroma Marquez was shot. And I think the hit man was trying to kill me.”

Mr. Kipling cleared his throat. “Oh, Anya, I’m so sorry.”

“I … I want to come home. I don’t want to bring any more trouble to the Marquezes. Even if I have to go to Liberty,” I added.

“I understand,” Mr. Kipling said in a distracted way.

“What were you talking about before?” I asked.

“Anya, the situation here is very grave, and there’s no nice way for me to put this. Imogen Goodfellow is dead.”

I crossed myself. I could barely absorb this news. How could I be living in a world where Imogen Goodfellow was dead? Imogen, who loved paper books and who had taken such good care of Nana. Imogen, my friend.

“She died protecting your sister. There was an attack on the street outside the apartment, and Imogen came between Natty and a bullet. Imogen died on her way to the hospital. Natty was immediately brought to my house. She was hysterical, of course. She had to be sedated. Anya, are you still there?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Do you think the attack on me and the attack on Natty are related?” As I asked the question, I knew it was true.

“I fear they could be,” Mr. Kipling said. “Until I got your call, I had hoped the attack on your sister was just a random act of violence.”

“Someone trying to dispatch the children of Leonyd Balanchine?” Suddenly, I thought of my brother in Japan.

“Leo,” Mr. Kipling and I both said at the same time.

“I’ll call Yuji Ono,” I said.

I hung up with Mr. Kipling and immediately placed another call. This time, to Yuji Ono. He didn’t pick up. I wanted to scream but I knew there were sick people trying to sleep in the hospital. How was it possible that I had no way of reaching my brother other than through Yuji Ono? I had put too much faith in this man, who—let’s face facts—I had barely known.

I was about to try Yuji Ono again when Luna tapped me on the shoulder. “Anya, Theo wants to see you now.”

I nodded and followed her into his hospital room. I could not help but be reminded of Win and of Gable. Everywhere I went, I brought violence.

Theo was hooked up to a ventilator. Despite his tanned skin, he looked gray and bloodless. He couldn’t speak to me because of the tracheotomy but they had left a slate by his bed so that he could write messages.
Anya,
he wrote,
I love you like my sister …

The stroke of his handwriting on the screen was weak.

I love you like my sister but you have to go. The man who did this …

I put my hand over his hand. I knew what he was trying to write. “The man who did this might come back to finish the job. Or a different man. You love me like your sister, but you love your family more. They aren’t safe as long as I’m here,” I said.

Theo nodded miserably. There were tears in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Theo. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll get my things and I’ll leave tonight.”

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
Where will you go?
he wrote.

“Home,” I said. “I’m not sure I ever should have come here. I don’t think you can really run away from things. They tend to follow you.”

I am glad you came. Mi corazon es …
The slate began to slip off the bed, and before I could catch it, it fell to the floor. Theo put his hand over my heart.

“I know, Theo,” I said. “Promise not to think about me anymore. I just want you to get well.”

Luz stayed at the hospital with her son. In the car, Luna barely spoke to me. I told myself she was tired.

When we arrived at Granja Mañana, Luna went to the kitchen to update her grandmothers on Theo’s condition, and I went straight to my room to pack. I had arrived in Mexico with nothing and I was leaving with a mostly empty recipe book, a couple of letters, and a machete. I decided to burn the letters. I didn’t yet know how I’d be traveling and I didn’t want to implicate any of my friends if I should be arrested. I went down to the kitchen to ask for a match. Bisabuela was the only one there and she didn’t seem at all surprised by my request. She just said I should burn the letters in the stove. I lingered over Win’s letter but I still managed to burn it. The only one I decided to keep was Imogen’s. Here, I started to cry.

Bisabuela put her arm around me. “What is it,
bebé
?” she asked. She didn’t speak much English and I still didn’t speak much Spanish.

“My friend died,” I said.

“Theo is no dead. He is hurt, but will live.” I could see the confusion in her eyes.

“No, not Theo, someone else. Someone from
mi casa
”—I paused—“and I need to go home.”

At that moment, Luna walked into the kitchen. “Anya, you can’t leave right now!”

I wanted to explain. I knew that if I explained, she would want me to go, too. But I had promised Theo. “I have to go.”

Luna crossed her arms. “How can you go right now? You have become like family to us. And while Theo is sick, you could help so much on the farm. Please, Anya.”

I told her that I had called home while we were waiting in the hospital and that someone in my family had died, and I needed to get back to New York immediately. All this was true, of course.

“Who in your family?” Luna demanded.

“The woman who watches my sister.”

“So not even your real family, then!”

I said nothing.

“If you leave right now, I will never forgive you! Theo will never forgive you either!”

“Luna, Theo wants me to go.”

“What do you mean? He would never say that. You’re lying, Anya.”

“I’m not … The thing is, Theo said he understood that I needed to get back to the city.”

“You are a different kind of person than I thought you were,” Luna said. Her face was covered with tears and snot. I went over to her and tried to embrace her, but she pushed me away and then ran out of the kitchen. Bisabuela followed after her.

I went down the hall to Luz’s office to use her telephone. (I felt bad about the cost, but this was an emergency.) I called Yuji Ono again. He still didn’t pick up. Then I called Mr. Kipling. Simon Green answered the phone. “Anya, I’ve arranged for a private plane to meet you at the Tuxtla airport.”

“A private plane? Isn’t that expensive?”

“Yes, but there was no other way that was quick. You don’t have identification and even if you did, the nearest airport to you doesn’t have regular flights to the States, and honestly, this is the best I could do on short notice. You’ll be flying into the airport on Long Island. When you land, I’ll be there to meet you. If the authorities have become aware of your movements, you may be arrested, but I thought we had a better chance of avoiding that by flying into Long Island.”

“Yes, of course. Have you talked to Leo? Or Yuji Ono?” I asked.

“I’ve been trying Yuji Ono but I haven’t gotten him yet,” Simon Green said. “I’ll keep trying. Anya, how are you?”

“I’m…” I couldn’t come up with an answer. “I want to see Natty.”

I hung up with Simon Green and then I dialed Yuji Ono again. I was about to despair when Yuji finally answered. “Hello, Anya,” he said. His manner seemed awkward but I didn’t know if that was because of the conversation we’d had the last time we met.

“Why haven’t you been picking up your phone?”

“I have been occupied with—”

I realized that I didn’t care what he’d been doing. “I need to know if Leo is okay,” I said.

For a second, Yuji didn’t answer me. “There was an explosion.”

“An explosion? What kind of explosion?”

“A car bomb. I am sorry, Anya. Your brother’s girlfriend was hurt very badly, and—”

“What about Leo?”

“I am sorry, Anya. He is dead.”

Oddly, I knew I was not going to cry. Some once fleshy part of me had turned to bone, and I was no longer capable of such displays. “Was it you, Yuji? Did you plan all of this? Just because I wouldn’t marry you? Was it you?”

“It was not me,” Yuji said.

“I don’t believe you. No one else had the information. No one else knew where I was and where Leo was. No one except you!”

“There were others, Anya. Think about it.”

I couldn’t think. Leo was dead. Imogen was dead. Someone had tried to kill Natty and me. Theo was gravely injured because he had gotten in the way of a bullet meant for me.

“Say who you mean.”

“I choose not to speculate. I can only say that it was not me,” Yuji repeated, “but I did not intervene to stop these events from happening either.”

“Are you saying that you let my brother die? That you would have let me die, too?”

“I said what I meant. I am very sorry for your loss.”

I hung up on him. I was sorry, too. If it turned out he had killed my brother, Yuji Ono would have to die.

XI

I LEARN THE COST OF FRIENDSHIP;
MONEY STILL MAKES THE WORLD GO ’ROUND

T
HE PLANE WAS BARELY
larger than a bucket, and the ride was bumpy. Though I hadn’t slept for over twenty-four hours, my mind would not rest. I couldn’t stop thinking of Leo and every time he’d ever asked to come with me and I’d refused him. I’d been the one to send him to Japan. Had that been a mistake? Why had I ever trusted Yuji Ono? How could Leo be dead when we hadn’t spoken in almost ten months? None of this seemed possible.