In the Age of Love and Chocolate (Birthright #3)(51)

I had always thought I’d die young. I thought I’d die because of something to do with crime and chocolate, but it was Sophia’s love (and my own poor choices) that had done me in.

Sweet Jesus, I thought just before my heart stopped, Sophia Bitter had really loved Yuji Ono. It almost made me laugh: some people never got over their high school boyfriends.

THE AGE OF LOVE

XX

HAVING VOWED TO BE ALONE, I AM NEVER ALONE

WHEN I AWOKE, I was in a hospital bed. Without knowing why, I could tell that this was different from any other time I had been injured. I was not in pain, but my body had a peculiar, ominous numbness to it.

The miniature nurse said something encouraging in Japanese. It seemed like she was saying, “Yay, you are not dead!” But I couldn’t tell. She scurried out of the room.

Moments later, a doctor came in, and with him were Mr. Delacroix and my sister.

I knew whatever was wrong with me must be serious if Natty had been summoned to Japan. She took my hand. “Anya, you’re awake, thank God.” Her eyes filled with tears. Mr. Delacroix stayed in the corner, as if he were being punished. It did not strike me as particularly odd that he had come, as there was business to attend to in Japan. With me indisposed, either he or Theo would have needed to make the trip.

I tried to speak, but there were tubes in my throat. I pulled at them, and the nurse grabbed my hand.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” the doctor asked. It was a relief that he spoke English.

I nodded because that was the only response I could make.

“You were attacked and stabbed.” He showed me a diagram: I was represented by a one-dimensional cartoon girl with an intimidating series of red Xs to indicate areas of trauma. The girl looked as if she had made many mistakes.

“The first wound went from under your shoulder blade, penetrating through your chest, to below your collarbone. Along the way, it grazed the wall of your heart. The second wound penetrated your lower back, severing nerves along the left side of your spinal column. That is why you can’t feel your left foot.”

I nodded—same reason as before.

“Luckily, the wound was very low. A bit higher and your entire leg might not work. A bit more central, and you might have been paralyzed entirely. The other good news is that your right foot should work perfectly, and it is likely that you will be able to walk normally again but no one can say how long that will take.”

I nodded though I considered rolling my eyes to mix it up.

“When the wall of your heart was damaged, it set off a series of cardiac incidents. We had to perform heart surgery to repair the wall and to return your heart to normal function.

“You’ve broken your ankle, so you will notice that your foot is in a cast. We suspect you tried to stand at some point after you were stabbed, and you must have twisted your foot.”

I had not noticed, but now I saw that it was. It didn’t seem to make much difference as my foot apparently didn’t work anyway and obviously this was only one of many problems.

“Also, your larynx was badly bruised, but as you are intubated, we can’t yet know the outlook for this injury.

“You are on a morphine drip, and your pain should be manageable for the time being. I don’t want to sugarcoat the situation, Ms. Balanchine. You have a long recovery ahead of you.”

He probably didn’t need to say that last sentence. The fact that it had taken over two minutes to deliver a cursory description of my injuries was a pretty good sign that I would not be up and about for a while.

“I’ll leave you to your friends,” the doctor said, and then he left.

Natty sat down on my bed and immediately began to cry. “Annie, you almost died. Does it hurt?”

I shook my head. It didn’t. That would come later.

“I’ll stay with you until you’re well,” she said.

I shook my head again. I was glad to see her, but even in my current condition, I could think of nothing worse than her staying with me when she was supposed to be at college.

Mr. Delacroix came over to my bedside. He had not spoken once during this scene. “I am, of course, attending to the openings of the Japanese clubs while you are out of commission.”

I wanted to say thank you, but I couldn’t.

He looked at me with eyes that were steady and unemotional. He nodded and then he left.

Natty kissed me, and though I had been awake for less than a half hour, I fell asleep.

* * *

And now a small irony: I, who had only recently vowed to be alone, was never alone. I had never been so humbled. I could do nothing for myself. I could not get to the bathroom without assistance. I could not eat without help. Moving my right hand to the level of my mouth would reopen the stitches in my back and chest, and so I was encouraged to stay very still. I was worse than a baby, because I was so unwieldy and not adorable in the least.

I could not bathe. I could not brush my hair. I could not walk across the room, obviously. My ribs had been broken during the surgery to repair my heart, so those hurt, too. For a while, I was considered too fragile even to be placed in a wheelchair. I did not see the outdoors for weeks. It hurt to talk so I avoided it, but it hurt more to write. So I whispered. But what was there to say? I did not feel clever anymore. I did not care about the news from home. I did not care about the Family or the clubs.

I had been in the hospital before; I had been sick before. But this was not comparable in any way to those other occasions. I could not do anything except lie in bed and stare out the window. There was no revenge to be plotted. I had killed Sophia Bitter and I was tired.