In the Age of Love and Chocolate Page 9

  IX

  I EXPAND; RECONSIDER MY BROTHER; LISTEN TO THEO EXPOUND ON THE DIFFICULTIES OF A LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIP WITH … CACAO

  FOR THE FIRST SIX MONTHS of 2085, Mr. Delacroix courted new investors, and Theo and I traveled across the United States in pursuit of perfect locations for the Dark Room. When we were on the road, Noriko and Leo managed the New York club. Though I’d traveled abroad, I had never been anywhere in America except Manhattan and seventy-five square miles around Manhattan, and it interested me to see how people lived in other places. In an error particular to youth, I had the impression that everyone lived as I did: they dwelled in apartments, rode buses, and traded at the market on Saturday. In fact, this was not the case. In Illinois, there were still grocery stores. In California, fruit and flowers grew everywhere. (My nana would have loved it.) In Texas, everything smelled like fire. In Pennsylvania, Theo and I visited a ghost town with the motto “the sweetest place on earth.” Hershey, Pennsylvania, once had a chocolate factory and a chocolate-themed amusement park, too. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen firsthand the ancient statue of an anthropomorphized milk chocolate bar. He was googly-eyed, grinned maniacally, and wore white gloves and saddle shoes. I suppose he was meant to appeal to children, but I found him terrifying. Still, a chocolate amusement park! Reader, can you imagine?

  By July, Mr. Delacroix and I had raised enough money for the club to expand to five more locations: San Francisco, Seattle, Brooklyn, Chicago, and Philadelphia. “Congratulations, Anya,” Mr. Delacroix said after the last set of contracts had been executed. “You are officially a chain, coming soon to five locations across this great country of ours. Is it everything you hoped? Are you an entirely new woman?”

  “I’m the same,” I said. “I wish it was ten locations, though.”

  “You would say that. I wonder what makes Anya Balanchine keep running so hard?” he asked.

  “The usual,” I said lightly. “Trying to shake off that huge chip on my shoulder caused by the death of my parents. Never feeling like there was enough love for me. Wanting to prove wrong everyone who tried to take me down or who got in my way. I think of the teachers, the boyfriends, the semya, the cops, the DAs. So many people to thank.”

  “Acting DA,” he said. “Try to be a little happy, would you? Try to enjoy this moment.”

  “That’s not my nature, colleague,” I said with a smile.

  * * *

  The night after the last deal closed, Noriko and Leo threw a small dinner party to celebrate the expansion of the business. I don’t know if it was his stint in the psychiatric prison or Noriko’s influence, but Leo was a new man since he’d been released. For one, he suddenly had skills: he knew how to open a wine bottle, how to sear a fish, how to hang curtains, how to fix our sink. He made friends with the other people who lived in our building—perhaps I’m antisocial, but aside from a grunt of greeting, I had never even spoken to any of our neighbors in the eighteen and a half years I had resided there. Leo seemed more capable to me (more capable than me in certain ways) and less a child who needed my care and watch. When he got frustrated, which was rarely, Noriko would put her hand on his back, and in a moment, he would be calm again. (Natty joked that Noriko was the Leo-whisperer.) There had always been conflict between my brother and me, but for the first time in my life, I felt like I could appreciate him as a person.

  One other thing: Noriko and Leo loved home improvement. I’d come back to find that they had painted the walls a dusky purple, or reupholstered our old sofa in gray wool. Our apartment became, for the first time since my parents had died, a home.

  At the dinner party, the guests included Lucy, Scarlet, Felix, Theo, Mr. Delacroix, and Mr. Delacroix’s new girlfriend, Penelope, who had a shrill voice that made everything she said come off as annoying. Penelope ran her own very successful public relations firm, as she would tell me no fewer than ten times that night. She was nothing like Win’s mother, the pretty dark-haired farmer.

  Everyone assumed that Theo and I were a couple, but I never called him my boyfriend. Aside from that one time with Scarlet, he didn’t refer to himself that way either. I liked his company, liked his teasing, liked that he smelled of cinnamon. I liked him and I liked myself when I was with him. By my nature, I was reserved, and by his nature, Theo was the opposite. People seemed to like me better when they met the two of us together; his warmth and good cheer buoyed me. However, I didn’t want to possess him; I didn’t even expect him to stop dating other people (I knew that he had). My heart did not break when we were apart, though I was always glad to see him when we were reunited.

  However, I understood why people could have come to the conclusion that Theo was my boyfriend. We were together for work, and we even—Nana would be horrified—lived together. I had not meant to live in sin and I didn’t really like the idea of it. But, well, Theo had come to New York in the middle of an emergency, and he had never moved out.

  (NB: Looking back, I probably should have made him.)

  * * *

  After the dinner party, I told Noriko and Leo to go to bed, that I would clean up. Noriko went, but Leo stayed behind to help me. “Annie,” Leo said when we were almost through drying the dishes, “what would you think about Noriko and me going to San Francisco to start up the new club?”

  “Are you unhappy in New York?” I asked.

  “Of course not, Annie. I love it here. New York is my home. But I really, truly want to do this.”

  “Why?” I carefully hung the kitchen towel over the back of the chair.

  “I guess I want to leave my mark the way you have in New York. I can do it in San Francisco, if you’ll let me. I know I’ve made huge mistakes in the past and that you had to fix them for me. But I’m smarter now, Annie. I don’t make as many mistakes.”

  “What about Noriko?” I asked. “How does she feel about this plan?”

  “She’s excited, Annie. She’s so smart and she has great ideas. She makes me feel smarter, too.” I am embarrassed to admit this, but I truly had worried that once Noriko’s English improved, she would lose interest in and possibly even leave my brother.

  I looked at Leo. His face, which I knew so well, was a little boy’s and a grown man’s at the same time. I knew it cost him every time he had to ask me for anything. “If I agree to this, I’ll have to treat you as I would any employee. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll fire you and Noriko both.”

  “I know, Annie! I wouldn’t expect any different. But nothing will go wrong.”

  “Well,” I said, “I guess the only problem is how much I’m going to miss you.” I had liked coming home to the apartment to find him and Noriko there.

  Leo hugged me ferociously. “Thank you for trusting me! I won’t let you down. I swear I won’t.” Leo hugged me again. “Wait, I had one other thought. What would you think about us taking Simon Green to San Francisco with us? We need a lawyer, and I know Simon could use the job.”

  Leo was clearly a better person than I. Frankly, it didn’t seem like the worst idea I’d ever heard, and it would, at the very least, separate Simon Green and me by the width of a continent. “It’s up to you, Leo,” I said. “San Francisco is your show, and you and Noriko should hire who you want.”

  The three of them left about a week after my nineteenth birthday. I cried at the airport, I don’t know why. I had not known that I was going to, but then the sight of my brother and his wife, who I’d grown very fond of, filled me with unexpected emotion. Leo reminded me so much of my father. Everything I’d sacrificed to try to keep him safe suddenly seemed worth it.

  “I’ll be fine, Annie,” Leo said.

  “I know,” I said.

  “You’ll never stop worrying about me, will you?”

  “That’s the thing, Leo. I have. That’s why I’m crying. I’m relieved. I really do believe you’ll be fine.”

  * * *

  With Leo and Noriko gone, Theo and I could not be out of town at the same time—I had to oversee the
New York club, which was the headquarters for the business, and Theo was busy setting up the kitchens of the other locations. Consequently, I saw less of Theo in the second half of 2085 than I had in the first. He called me one October night from a hotel room in Chicago. “Anya, I miss you. Say you miss me.”

  “I miss you,” I said with a yawn.

  “You do not sound like you miss me one bit,” he said.

  “I’m just tired, Theo. Of course I miss you.”

  “Good, then you must come home with me for Christmas,” he said.

  “I don’t know. Natty and I always spend the holidays in New York.”

  “She will come, too.”

  “Airfare is expensive.”

  “You’re a rich lady. You and I fly all the time for work now anyway.”

  “Doesn’t everyone in your family hate me for stealing their beloved Theo away?”

  “No. They will rejoice to see you. You have not been to Chiapas in almost two years. Besides, the mole we have at Dali’s is good, but it is not up to the standard of the abuelas’.”

  “You’re relentless,” I said.

  “That’s how you have to be when you farm cacao. Cacao is a demanding plant, as you well know. Too much water, there is mold. Too little water, she dries out and dies. You cannot simply shower her with affection either. She needs to be left alone sometimes to grow. If you make it too easy for her, she won’t produce a strong crop. Sometimes, you do everything right and she still is not satisfied. You remind yourself not to have hurt feelings—for that is just how she is. But she is worth the effort—I tell you, Anya, she is. Get everything right and you are rewarded with an uncommon sweetness, a rich flavor that you can’t find anywhere else. Growing cacao has made me relentless, as you say, but also patient and deliberate. Everything worth loving is difficult. But I get off the subject. You will go with me to Chiapas for Christmas, yes? My bisabuela is not getting any younger, and you have often said you wanted to show Natty my farm.”

  X

  I RETURN TO CHIAPAS; CHRISTMAS AT GRANJA MAÑANA; A PROPOSAL AKA THE SECOND-WORST THING EVER TO HAPPEN TO ME IN A CACAO FIELD

  THE YEAR HAD PASSED QUICKLY, painlessly, and without the tears, blood, and tragedy I had come to expect from this life. The worst I was willing to say about 2085 was that it had left me weary from work. (The worst I was unwilling to admit about my actions that year was that it might have been a mistake to date Theo.) The last week of December, I left my club in the capable hands of my staff, and along with Theo and Natty, boarded a plane to Chiapas.

  The first time I had gone to Mexico, it was under an assumed name as a mustachioed passenger on a cargo ship. Needless to say, travel was smoother this time. For years, I had dreamed of having Natty in Chiapas, and it was a joy to see it through her eyes. She remarked upon the pure air and cerulean skies, the flowers in their surreal shapes and colors, the chocolate shops right out in the open. I loved introducing her to Theo’s family: his mother, Luz; his sister Luna; his brother, Castillo, the Priest; and of course, his two abuelas. (His other sister, Isabelle, was spending the holidays in Mexico City.) The only sadness was that the older of the two abuelas, his bisabuela, was unable to leave her room. She was ninety-seven years old, and they did not think she had much longer to live.

  When I arrived, Luna walked right past her brother to embrace me. “Why have you waited so long to visit?” she asked. “We have missed you terribly.”

  “Hey, Luna,” Theo said. “Your loving brother is here, too.”

  Luna ignored him. “And this must be Natty. The smart one, yes?”

  “Most of the time,” Natty said.

  Luna whispered conspiratorially to my sister, “I am the smart one in my family, too. It is a terrible burden, no?” Luna turned to her brother and me. “Nice of you both to show up after the big cacao harvest. I could have used your help a week ago.”

  Natty and I had just set our bags in our room when I was told that Bisabuela wanted to see me. I changed into a dress and went up to her room, where Theo was already by her side.

  “Ahn-juh,” she said in a scratchy voice. Then she said something in Spanish, which I could not understand. My Spanish had become rusty. She wagged a knotted finger at me, and I looked to Theo for help.

  “She says she is happy to see you,” Theo translated. “That you look very well, neither too plump nor too slim. She is sad it has taken you so long to come back to the farm. She wants to say again that she is sorry about what happened with Sophia Bitter. She—Nana, I am not going to say that!”

  “What?” I asked.

  Words were exchanged between Theo and his great-grandmother. “Fine. She says we are both nice Catholic kids, and she doesn’t like us living in sin. And God doesn’t like it either.” Theo’s checks turned as red as an overripe strawberry.

  “Tell her that she misunderstands,” I said. “That you and I are only friends. Tell her that it’s a very large apartment.”

  Theo shook his head and left the room. I took Bisabuela’s hand. “He is only my friend. It’s not a sin.” I knew this was not quite true, but I felt fine about a lie that would make a sweet old lady feel better.

  Bisabuela shook her head. “El te ama, Ahn-juh. El te ama.” She clapped a hand to her heart, then pointed to the door by which Theo had just exited.

  I kissed her wrinkled cheek and pretended I had no idea what she was saying.

  * * *

  I had been too worried to truly appreciate my last Christmas at Granja. I had been on the lam and torn from everyone I loved. But this Christmas, with Natty there and my worries at a record low, I allowed myself to drink in Theo’s family.

  We exchanged presents in the morning. Natty and I had brought silk scarves for the Marquez women. For Theo, I had purchased a new leather suitcase, which I had already given him before we’d left. He traveled so much for the Dark Room that I thought he would find it useful. My present from Theo was a sheath for my machete, with ANYA BARNUM, my onetime alias, burned into the side. “Every time I see you pull that machete out of your backpack, I laugh,” he said.

  Christmas dinner was turkey mole and tres leches. Natty ate so much she fell asleep—siesta was a sacred tradition at Granja. While my sister napped, Theo asked if I wanted to take a walk around the cacao orchard.

  The last time Theo and I had walked these fields, we’d been attacked by an assassin come to kill me. (As absurd as it sounds to report such an incident, this had been my life.) Theo had been gravely injured, and I’d cut off someone’s hand. Two years later, I could still remember the sensation of swinging a blade through flesh and bone.

  Still, the field did not have only bad associations for me. It was where Theo had taught me about cacao, and if I hadn’t come here, I never would have opened the Dark Room.

  I saw a cacao pod with signs of rot. Out of habit, I drew my machete and sliced it off.

  “You have not lost your touch,” Theo said.

  “Guess not.” I resheathed my machete.

  “I’ll sharpen it for you before we leave,” Theo said. He slipped his fingers through mine, and we walked in silence for a while. It was almost sunset, but I was glad to be outside with the last rays of warm Mexican sun on my skin.

  “Are you glad you came?” Theo asked me.

  “I am. Thanks for making me. I needed to get out of the city.”

  “I know you, Anya,” he said. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

  We walked a bit farther, stopping every now and then to tend the cacao. When we came to the end of the field, Theo stopped.

  “We should turn around,” I said.

  “I cannot,” he said. “I must speak.” But then he did not speak.

  “What is it, Theo? Out with it already. I’m getting cold.” In December, the weather in Mexico abruptly turned from pleasant to frigid. He grabbed me by the leather belt that strapped my new machete sheath to my waist. He undid the buckle.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

&nbs
p; He took my machete out of the sheath. “Get your hands off my machete,” I said, giving him a playful smack on the wrist.

  “Hold out your hand,” he said.

  He turned the sheath over and a small ring—a silver band with a white pearl—fell out of the case and into the palm of my hand. “You did not look close enough,” he said.

  I stood there, dumbfounded. I sincerely hoped it was not what it looked like. “Theo, what is this?”

  He grabbed my hand and forced the band over my knuckle. “I love you, Anya.”

  “No, you don’t! You think I’m ugly. We fight all the time. You don’t love me.”

  “I tease, I tease. You know this is my way. I do love you. I have never met a person I love as much as you.”

  I began to back away from him.

  “I think we should be married. We are the same, and Bisabuela is right. It is wrong for us to spend our lives together, as we have been for the past year, and not be married.”

  “Theo, we can’t get married just because we’ve offended your great-grandmother.”

  “That is not the only reason, and you know it. I love you. My family loves you. And no one will ever have more in common with you than me.”

  “But Theo, I don’t love you, and I never claimed that I did.”

  “What does that matter? You lie to yourself about love. I know you, Anya. You are afraid of being hurt or of being controlled, so you tell yourself you are not in love. You are afraid of happiness, so you destroy and vex her whenever she arrives.” He took my hand. “Have we not been happy this year?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “And is there anyone you prefer to me?”

  “No, Theo, there’s no one I prefer.”

  “Of course there is not. So marry me, Anya. Give yourself over to the happiness.” He put his arms around me.