In the Age of Love and Chocolate (Birthright #3)(52)

The police came to see me. As Sophia had attacked me, the case appeared fairly cut-and-dried to them. We were both foreigners, gaijin, and so no one much cared what her, or for that matter, my reasons had been.

* * *

After a week or so of being tended to, I no longer had much in the way of self-consciousness. Who cared if my breasts were exposed when they re-dressed the stitches on my chest? Who cared if my hospital gown fell open when the bedpan was slipped below me? Who cared if I could not do anything without the assistance of at least one other person? I gave myself over to it. I did not fight with anyone like my nana had. I smiled sweetly and let myself be attended to. I was like a broken doll. I believe the nurses liked me very much.

Although I had stopped caring about most everything, my one concern was Natty. She had been a superb advocate in those first days. Though I was broken, I was no longer in danger of dying. I wanted her to return to college.

“I have a nurse and I don’t like you to be away from school,” I managed to say in as cheerful a voice as I could muster.

“But you’ll be so lonely,” Natty said.

“I am not lonely, Natty. I am never alone.”

“That’s not the same thing, Argon, and you know it. You almost died. The doctors say you have months of recovery ahead of you. You can’t travel, and I won’t leave you here.”

I tried to sit up in bed but couldn’t. “Natty, I don’t find it relaxing to have you here. I find it relaxing to know you are at college, learning important things.”

“This is ridiculous, Annie. I will not leave you!”

From the darkest corner of the room, Mr. Delacroix spoke: “I will stay with her.”

“What?” Natty said.

“I will stay with her, and then she will not be alone.”

Natty stood very tall. Her particular facial expression, a daunting combination of queen and gangster, was one I had seen many times before—on my nana. “With all due respect, Mr. Delacroix, I’m not going to leave my sister with you. I don’t even know you that well, and what I do know, I am not sure I much like.”

“Trust me, Natty,” Mr. Delacroix said. “This is for the best. I will stay with her. I am already seeing to business in Japan.” He took off his jacket and set it on the chair, as if to indicate that he was planning to stay awhile. “Do you remember the year she went to Liberty?”

“Yes, that is precisely what makes me not like you,” Natty said.

“Essentially, she traded her freedom so that you could go to genius camp in Amherst, and I was able to strike that deal with Anya because of the great love she had for you. And what she wanted that year is not dissimilar from what she wants right now. Respect her wishes and leave. You may call me as much as you like, and I will bring her home to you when she is safe to travel in the summer.”

Natty turned to me. “You would rather him stay with you than me? You would prefer Win’s awful father, who we used to hate? I mean, even his son, who is the nicest boy in the world and who gets along with everyone, hates him.”

Of course I would rather have had Natty, but more than that, I wanted her back at school. “Yes,” I said. “Besides, shouldn’t he have to do something for me for once in his life?”

Natty turned to Mr. Delacroix. “If she takes even the slightest turn for the worse, you need to contact me immediately. You need to come see her at least once a day and make sure she is being taken care of. And I expect reports, too.” She left the room in a huff, and three days later, she was back at MIT.

“Thank you,” I told him later that day, or maybe it was the next. I slept a lot, and the days often blended together. “But you don’t have to check on me so often. I do have nurses. I’ll be fine, and I can’t very well get myself in any trouble in the condition I’m in.”

“I promised your sister,” Mr. Delacroix said. “And I am a man of my word.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Anya,” Mr. Delacroix said, “would you like to go over some business details with me? The Light Bar in Hiroshima is—”

“I don’t care. I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine.”

“You have to try.”

“Try to do what? I don’t have to do anything except lie here, Mr. Delacroix.”

They were weaning me off morphine that week, and this turned out to be the kind of adventure best experienced in solitude.

XXI

I AM WEAK; REFLECT ON THE TRANSFORMATIVE NATURE OF PAIN; DETERMINE THAT MY CHARACTER IS BUILT

MR. DELACROIX CAME EVERY DAY and usually for several hours. I am certain I was terrible company. One day in late October, he brought a chess set with him.

“What is this?” I asked. “Do you think I want anything to do with games?”

“Well, I am bored with you,” he said. “You don’t wish to discuss the business and you say nothing even slightly amusing, so I thought at least we could play chess.”

“I don’t know how to play,” I said.

“Grand. That gives us something to do then.”

“If you’re so bored with me, perhaps you should go back to America? You must have business there.”

“I promised your sister,” he said.

“No one expects you to honor your promises, Mr. Delacroix. Everyone knows what you are like.”