All These Things I've Done

  Then we left.

  I didn’t speak to Win until we were on the train home.

  “You shouldn’t have burst in like that,” I said.

  Win shrugged.

  “I had it under control,” I assured him.

  “I know you did, lass. You’re the toughest girl I know.”

  “‘Lass’? Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know. I just felt the urge to call you that. Does it bother you?”

  I thought about his question. “It’s kind of girly but, no, I guess not.” I put my head in the crook of his arm. “Were you waiting out there the whole time?”

  “Yes, I suppose I was.”

  “Gable will figure out who you are, and once he does, everyone will know about us,” I said.

  “Maybe it won’t be so bad?” Win said. “I wouldn’t care if people did know. Besides, Gable could decide to keep the information to himself.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Well … to blackmail us or something?”

  “Maybe.” But I knew that blackmail wasn’t Gable Arsley’s style. Blackmail required planning, patience. Gable was all impulse.

  When we got off the train in New York City, the paparazzi were waiting for us. “Hey, kids! Look over here! Smile!”

  “I guess Gable figured it out,” Win whispered to me.

  “Anya, is that your boyfriend?”

  “He’s my friend from school,” I yelled out. “We’re lab partners.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  The pictures were everywhere by the next morning. They’d gotten one of us kissing as we left the train. The headlines were all something like “Star-Crossed Lovers? Bravta Princess and Asst. DA’s Son Find Love in the City.”

  Win called me in the afternoon.

  “Are you calling to break up?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied, a bit amused. “My dad wants you to come to dinner tonight.”

  “Was he angry?”

  “He never asked me not to date you. He asked you, remember?”

  “So, you mean he’s mad at me? I think I’d rather not come, thanks.”

  “Are you scared? That’s not like you.”

  I asked him what time I should be there.

  “Seven,” Win replied. “I’d come get you if you didn’t mind another photo session,” he joked.

  “Why do you sound so damn happy?”

  “Hmm. I suppose I’m sort of glad people know you’re my girlfriend.”

  “What should I wear?” I asked gruffly.

  “I’m partial to that red dress of yours,” he said.

  I put on my trusty red dress and took a bus to Win’s house. It was a much nicer apartment than the salary of the assistant DA (or the DA for that matter) could afford. Either Win’s mother had made a killing in farming (possible), or there was family money.

  Charles Delacroix opened the door before I even had a chance to ring the bell. He’d been waiting for me. He seemed significantly smaller inside this apartment than he had that day at Liberty and on the boat. It was as if he had the ability to expand or contract as the situation required. “You’re looking well, Anya. Much better than the last time we met.”

  “Yes. I’m feeling better,” I said.

  “Win is with my wife procuring some essential missing ingredient for dinner. Why don’t you come into my study. We’ll talk and wait.”

  I followed him into the study, which had red walls and rugs and mahogany shelves filled with paper books.

  “You collect books?”

  Charles Delacroix shook his head. “My wife’s father did.”

  That settled that. Win’s mother was the one with the money. On Mr. Delacroix’s screen was one of the articles about Win and me.

  “The truth is, I orchestrated this,” Charles Delacroix admitted. “I wanted us to meet alone, so I’ll cut to the chase here. Win tells me he’s in love with you. Is that right?”

  I nodded.

  “And you’re in love with him? Or are you too practical for such indiscretions?”

  “We haven’t known each other very long,” I began, “but I think I might be.”

  Charles Delacroix rubbed his neck with his skinny, uncalloused fingers. “All right, then. It is what it is.” He sighed. It seemed as if he were going to continue speaking, but he said nothing. Instead, he poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter.

  “Is that it?” I asked.

  “How rude of me. Would you like a drink, too?”

  I shook my head. “I meant, is that all you have to say about the matter?”

  “Listen, Anya, I advised you against dating Win, and it would probably make my job simpler if you’d gone in a different direction here. But I’m not such an ogre. If my son’s in love …” Charles Delacroix shrugged. “We are where we are. I like you, Anya. And I’d be the worst sort of hypocrite if I held your parentage against you. We, none of us, can escape the circumstances of our births. Now, if you decide to marry Win, that might be another story. My advisers tell me that my campaign—my theoretical campaign, I mean, and mind you, nothing’s been decided yet about that—can handle Win dating you, but marrying you, they weren’t so sure.”

  “I promise you, Mr. Delacroix, I’m not planning to marry anyone anytime soon.”

  “Good!” Charles Delacroix laughed and then his face grew solemn. “Did Win ever tell you about his older sister, Alexa? She died when she was about your age now. I don’t like to speak of it.”

  I nodded. I could understand not wanting to speak of things.

  “My point is, despite what I said to you that day on the ferry, I want my only living child to be happy, Anya. But I also want him to be safe. The one thing I ask is that if you ever think my boy’s in danger because of any of your familial associations, please come to me. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Good. And, of course, if you ever commit any legal indiscretions, I will have to prosecute you to the fullest extent of my office. I can’t be seen to show you favoritism.” This was said in as friendly a manner as it’s possible to say such things, so I told him that I understood.

  Win and his mother arrived home then. “Charlie!” a woman’s voice called out.

  “We’re in the study!” Mr. Delacroix called back.

  Win and his mother entered the room. She had long inkblack hair and light green eyes and was about my mother’s height and build. “I’m Jane,” she said. “You must be Anya. My, you’re very pretty.”

  “You …” And then I had to stop because I felt as if I might cry. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

  “Oh, well, thanks, I guess. I suppose I should ask you if it was someone you liked or someone you didn’t like.” She laughed.

  “Someone I liked,” I said. “Someone I miss very much.” I knew it was an awkward thing to say but I didn’t want to tell her that she reminded me of my mother.

  After dinner, Win walked me home. The paparazzi had left for the night, or maybe they’d simply gotten bored of the story. Win wanted to know if his father had been awful to me. I told him that he hadn’t been. “He mainly wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t get you killed.”

  “What did you say?” Win asked.

  “I told him I’d try not to, but I couldn’t make any guarantees.”

  And then we were back in my room.

  We didn’t have sex, or even get particularly close, but I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I could feel myself opening up toward him like a rose in a hothouse.

  I just couldn’t, though. I thought of my parents in Heaven or Hell and I thought of God. Daddy once said, “If you don’t know what you believe, Annie, you’ll be a lost soul.” I realized something very important that night. It had been easy to resist losing my virginity to Gable because I had never really wanted him. In other words, there had never been much temptation. It was far more challenging to stick to my principles where Win was concerned.

/>   That night, Win asked me about sex, like what my beliefs were, etc. And I told him that I didn’t want to have sex until I was married. Without missing a beat, he nodded and said, “So let’s get married.”

  I hit him. “You’re that desperate to have sex?”

  “No,” he said. “I’ve had sex.”

  “I’m sixteen! And we barely know each other.”

  He held my chin in his hand and looked in my eyes. “I know you, Anya.”

  He might have been serious, but I made a joke of it. “You’d probably marry me just to annoy your father.”

  He grinned. “Well, that would certainly be a bonus.”

  “Why don’t you like him?” I asked. “He seems all right.”

  “In five-minute doses,” Win muttered. “I imagine you’ve noticed that he’s pretty ambitious.”

  “Sure. My father was, too. In the opposite way though. But I still loved him.”

  “He …” Win began, and then he stopped. “I admire Dad. He came from nothing. He was raised in an orphanage. Both his parents were killed in a car accident, but he lived. He thinks I’m soft, but who can compete with that?” He looked at me. “Oh, right. You can, can’t you? My poor, brave girl.” He kissed me on the forehead.

  I told him that I didn’t want to talk about me. “Why does he think you’re soft?”

  “Because I got in some trouble a long time ago … Boring kid stuff. I’d tell you but it’s embarrassing.”

  “Now you have to tell me!”

  “No, I’m ashamed, lass, and it’s not very interesting anyway. It was after my sister died, and it was the lowest I’ve ever been. The point is, my dad thought it was weakness, and that my mother indulged my weakness.”

  “Do your parents get along?”

  “Dad says the only person who’s ever loved him is my mother …”

  “She seems nice,” I said.

  “She is. But Dad? He cheats on her. She ignores it, but I can’t. I mean, how can I respect a man like that?” Then he asked me if my father had ever cheated on my mother.

  Despite my father’s many failings, it was impossible to imagine him ever behaving in such a way. I told him that I didn’t know for sure, that I’d been too young to know, but I doubted it. “He believed in marriage,” I said.

  “So does my dad but that doesn’t stop him from acting the way he does,” Win said. “I would never treat you that way, Annie.”

  I knew that without him having to say it. Win was perfect in his way.

  I could go on and on about Win, but personally, I’m sickened by that sort of thing. Daddy always said that if a person had a bout of good fortune, that person would do best to keep it to herself. Win felt like the best stroke of luck I’d had for a very long time. (Insert finger in throat if you’d like … ) But yes, I was happy for a time. I was the kind of girl I usually hate, and I realize that the only reason I ever hated those girls in the first place was because I envied them. Clichéd? Yes, undoubtedly, but it also happened to be true.

  (Aside: Still, you may find yourself asking What of Leo’s job? What of the contaminated chocolate supply? What of the tattoo on Anya’s ankle? What of Nana’s health and Natty’s nightmares? Just because Annie has a delicious new boyfriend, she can’t possibly think that’s a good excuse to go around ignoring everything and everyone else in the world.

  The truth is, there were most definitely things that fell through the subway grates, but, at the time, I wasn’t paying attention. Even when I consider all that was to happen in the months that followed, I would not take back those dumb and happy, sweet and foggy, endless, numbered days.

  Correction: Once, I thought about that tattoo on my ankle. We were in my bedroom, and Win’s lips were on it. He said it was “kind of cute,” then sang me a song about a tattooed lady.)

  XIV.

  i am forced to turn the other cheek

  I HADN’T TALKED TO SCARLET for all of winter break, which was probably the longest we’d gone without communication in the entire history of our friendship. I didn’t see her until Fencing our first day back. During stretching, she didn’t bring up my relationship with Win, but then, she barely spoke to me. I could tell she was angry and that I was going to have to make amends.

  “So,” I joked after we’d broken off into pairs. “Maybe you heard? I’ve gone and got myself a fella.”

  “Yeah. I felt as if I hadn’t seen you in ages, but at least now I know why,” Scarlet said, thrusting her foil toward me. “Of course, I wish I hadn’t had to read it! Nice pictures, by the way.” She thrust her foil at me again, and the movement had more weight behind it than was typical of our bouts.

  “Double touch!” I yelled.

  “So?”

  “So, we each score a point,” I told her.

  “Oh. How do you know that?” Scarlet was out of breath.

  “Because we’ve been taking fencing for two and a half years.”

  Scarlet laughed. “I really should learn something about fencing one of these days.” She lowered her foil. “Seriously, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you were busy with the play and your new boyfriend—”

  “That’s over,” Scarlet said. “It was a production romance. At least, that’s what he said when he ended it. But that’s the life of the theater, I suppose.”

  I told her I was sorry. “You should have called,” I said.

  “I wanted to, but by then I’d heard about you and Win, and I was pissed about that, so I didn’t. Annie, I wasn’t so busy that I wouldn’t have wanted to know about you and Win. We ate lunch together every day, and we saw each other at rehearsal every other day, and we rode home on the bus together every day, and we—”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I honestly decided I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I thought it would make things easier.”

  “But my point is, you were lying to me every time you saw me. That day outside the supply closet? I totally believed you, and you played me for a fool. And I would never do that to you. You’re my best friend.”

  She was right. I should have told her. “I really am sorry.”

  Scarlet sighed. “Apology accepted,” she said.

  As we were changing out of our fencing attire, Scarlet turned to me. “Can I just say? I know your life is difficult, much more difficult than mine has ever been, even when you consider the fact that I can’t seem to keep a boyfriend to save my life. But, it’s not the easiest thing in the world being your best friend either. And I think I’ve been there for you through a lot of bad times, haven’t I?”

  I nodded.

  “So, when something good happens to you, I’d like to know about it. I’d like to be there for some of the happy times, too.”

  Scarlet’s words made my cheeks burn with shame. I had behaved thoughtlessly.

  When we got to lunch, Win was already at our table. “Gable Arsley’s back,” he said. Scarlet and I turned to look at Gable. We weren’t the only ones looking either.

  Gable was waiting in the lunch line in his wheelchair, his backpack draped over one of the handles. He had a glove over the hand with the mangled fingers and a baseball cap pulled low over his still raw-looking face. I watched as Gable struggled to get food on his tray, using only one hand and at a serious height disadvantage. “Why isn’t anyone helping him?” Win asked.

  “Because he was a bully,” I said.

  “Because he never had anything nice to say about anyone,” Scarlet added. “And he isn’t exactly a gentleman either.”

  “I’d go over, but I don’t think the guy would want to see me again after our last meeting,” Win said.

  “Why should you go?” I asked. “He ratted us out to the whole world.”

  “We don’t know that for certain,” Win said.

  “And he kind of tried to force me to have sex with him.” Maybe I had seen too many hard things in my life, but I found Win’s sympathy for Gable annoying.

  “He’s awful, Annie, but I just don’t know how he’s going
to wheel that chair and carry a tray,” Scarlet said. As she said that, Gable began to wheel himself away from the line with his tray balanced precariously on his lap. The food slipped over—coincidentally, it was the same lasagna I’d poured on his head all those months ago—and the sauce spattered on his pants before landing on his shoes, one of which must have contained a prosthetic foot. Gable yelled a curse word, and I actually heard several people in the cafeteria laugh. The boy—and yes, in that moment, he was restored to that for me—looked at a complete loss as to what he should do next.

  “Enough,” I said. It was starting to feel deeply unchristian to let him sit in the middle of the cafeteria, and I didn’t want my parents, wherever they were, to have to be ashamed of me. “I’m going over.”

  “We’ll come with you,” Win and Scarlet said.

  I stood up from the table. “Arsley, come eat with us!” I called.

  For a moment, Gable looked as if he might say something rude, but then he shook his head and smiled at me. “Promise you won’t try to poison me, Balanchine!” Gable said, sounding like his old self.

  A few people in the cafeteria laughed at his joke.

  “I’ll be your food tester,” Scarlet called out.

  “I’m holding you to that,” Gable said.

  Scarlet walked over to Gable and wheeled him to our table. Win went to the lunch line and got him another tray of food. I went to the bathroom and used all the quarters Scarlet and I had to get Gable enough wet paper towels to clean himself up.

  Once we were seated again, Gable commented, “This is the last place in the world I want to be sitting. With Mobster Daughter, Stupid Fedora, and Lady Drama.”

  I kept my mouth shut.

  “We’re thrilled to have you, too,” Win said.

  Gable struggled to reach his shoes and legs with the paper towels. I had to draw the line at helping clean him up. Luckily, Scarlet volunteered.

  “No,” Gable said. “It’s fine.”

  “I’m happy to,” she said as she bent over to wipe up his shoes.