Daisy Gogol put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you copacetic, Anya?”
I nodded and told her I was ready to go.
Fats grabbed my arm. “I remember the day you were born. Your daddy bringing the pictures to the Pool for us to see. I would never have done anything to put you or your brother and sister in harm’s way. You have to know that.”
The only thing I knew for certain was that I didn’t know anything.
XIV
I ENCOUNTER AN OLD FOE; ANOTHER PROPOSAL; WIN LOOKS UNDER THE WRAPPER
FOR WIN’S EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY, his parents hosted a party at their apartment. And by Win’s parents, I mean his mother. Win’s father was still “depressed,” and according to Win, hadn’t done anything to help plan the festivities.
Scarlet came over to my apartment so that we could all get dressed together. Natty and Daisy Gogol were also going.
Scarlet was about six months pregnant at this point and definitely showing. She wore an enormous black tulle skirt and a tiny pink velvet jacket she couldn’t button. Her blond hair had grown almost to her bottom and was glossy. I found her as comely as ever and I told her so.
She kissed me on the cheek. “Why can’t I marry you, Annie? You’d be the perfect husband to me.” After seven years in a Catholic school, Gable Arsley was hell-bent on marrying Scarlet and making an “honest woman” of her.
Scarlet had been too exhausted to procure outfits for us, as she might have done in years past. She did approve our choices. Natty wore that red dress of mine (and my mother’s), the one Win had always liked me in. I wore black pants—I was in a pants phase of my life—and a corset that Scarlet had worn to Little Egypt all those years ago. I was slutty on top and conservative on the bottom. But the thing was, I liked my arms and back after all that farming. As Daisy Gogol was coming with us, I resisted the urge to accessorize with my machete. Daisy was too large to borrow any of our clothes, but as it turned out, she had plenty of her own. She wore a crazy milkmaid dress and a helmet with horns. “Old opera costume,” she said. “This is going to be so much fun!” She clapped her hands.
We rode the bus to Win’s parents’ apartment. The funny thing was, I had only been there two other times as, for an obvious reason—i.e., Charles Delacroix—Win and I had avoided the place.
Jane Delacroix was one of those people who could make everything beautiful. For decorations, she’d strung fruit from the ceiling. And there were candles everywhere to provide illumination. And of course a bar and a band. The truth was, I doubted Win even noticed all the pains she’d taken for him. He was a boy, and he’d never been without a mother.
Nearly everyone from what should have been my graduating class was there, with the exception of Gable Arsley—thank you, Win’s mother. Most of these people I hadn’t seen since the night of my ill-fated welcome-back-to-Trinity party. Chai Pinter came right up to me and started babbling. “Oh, Anya, you look fantastic! I’m so happy to see you!” She hugged me like we were best friends. “I was so worried for you all these months. Where were you?”
Like I was really going to tell the class gossip where I’d been. “Here and there,” was my stock reply.
“Well, aren’t you the cagey one! So, what are you going to do next year?”
Possibly arrange hits on some relatives of mine, I thought. “Stay here,” I said.
“That’s cool. I’ve already gotten into NYU so I’ll be in the city, too! We should totally hang out.”
NYU? My mother had gone to NYU. And the thought of stupid Chai Pinter going to NYU filled me with an inexplicable disgust. I knew I should be happy for her. Why wasn’t I happy for her? Chai Pinter was a gossip, but she was a nice enough girl and a hard worker and …
“So, do you think you’ll even bother finishing high school?” Chai asked me.
“I’ve got a tutor. I’m studying for my GED right now.”
“Good for you! You’ll probably ace it. You were always so smart.”
I told Chai I needed to get a drink. I walked across the room and was immediately accosted by Alison Wheeler. “Annie,” she said. “So, I guess you know that I wasn’t the rebound girl after all.” Alison Wheeler was wearing a skintight black dress and yellow spike heels. It was a new look for her.
I laughed. “You two had me fooled.”
She leaned in to my ear. “I mean, I like Win, but he isn’t really my type. You’re much more my type.”
“Oh!”
“Generally, yes. But specifically, I like your friend Scarlet. But Trinity’s so boring and Catholic. I can’t wait to be in college. Anyway, I was just trying to help the Charles Delacroix campaign. That Bertha Sinclair is a monster.”
At least I wasn’t passing my days at Liberty.
“She is, Annie. She’s going to let the water run out, and she’s in the pocket of all the big companies and she lets them pollute and not pay taxes, and she’s totally corrupt. Charles Delacroix isn’t perfect, but … he’s good.” She pointed across the room to Win, who was talking to an elderly woman. “He raised that, didn’t he?”
“I suppose.”
Alison started talking about college because apparently there was nothing else in the world worth talking about. She had gotten into Yale early admission and was planning to study political science and environmental engineering. I felt the same seething jealousy as I had with Chai—yes, that’s what it was—rise up in me. I had to excuse myself again.
I was tired of hearing about all my classmates’ plans for next year. I thought about going up to Win’s room to lie down but when I got there I found it in use. The same with Win’s parents’ bedroom—gross. I went back downstairs. I knew that Win’s father’s office was supposedly off-limits. But I also knew that Charles Delacroix was out for the night, so that’s where I decided to go. I removed the gold cord that had been tied around the door handles and let myself in.
I sat down on one of the leather couches. And then I took off my shoes and lay down. I had just about dozed off when someone came in.
“Anya Balanchine,” Charles Delacroix said. “So we meet again.”
I struggled to sit up. “Sir.”
He was wearing a red plaid flannel bathrobe, and he had, indeed, grown a beard. The combination made him look a bit like a homeless person. I wondered if he was going to throw me out of his office, but he didn’t.
“My wife insisted on throwing this blasted party,” Charles Delacroix said. “Now that I am unemployed, my opinions carry less weight than I would like. It is my hope that this infernal affair doesn’t last long.”
“You’re being ridiculous. It’s a birthday party. It’s only one night.”
“True. Little things do seem to weigh more heavily on me these days,” Charles Delacroix admitted. “Look what a wonderful time you appear to be having.”
“I like having your son to myself.”
“That’s the reason you broke into my office?”
“Moving a cord is not breaking in!”
“You would think that. You’ve always had—how to put this?—a flexible attitude toward the law.” I was reasonably sure that Charles Delacroix was teasing me.
I told him the truth—that I was tired of hearing my peers talk about their plans for next year. “You see, I am plan-less, Mr. Delacroix. And you must admit that you had some part in my current situation.”
Charles Delacroix shrugged. “A resourceful girl like you? I bet you have a move or two up your sleeve. Avenging your brother’s death and such. Taking the reins of your chocolate empire from the incompetents who currently run it.”