In the Age of Love and Chocolate

by Gabrielle Zevin

  “Do you think this will suit?” Yuji asked me.

  “It is very different from New York,” I said.

  “I want a place that will operate in the daylight,” he said. “I am so tired of the darkness.”

  “Originally I wanted to do that, too, but my business partner talked me out of it. He said the club should be sexy.”

  “I see his point. But the Japanese are different from the Americans. I think we will be better in the daylight here.”

  “It can’t be called the Dark Room then.” I paused. “The Light Bar?”

  He considered my suggestion. “I like this.”

  About fifteen minutes later, several members of the media arrived along with Yosh, Yugi’s company’s publicist, who translated for me the parts of the press conference that were in Japanese.

  “Ono-san, it’s been months since anyone has seen you,” one of the interviewers noted. “Rumor has it you are ailing, and you do look very lean.”

  “I am not ailing,” Yuji said. “Nor did I summon you here today to discuss my health. I have two announcements to make. The first is that my company will undergo a dramatic reorganization in the months that follow. The second is to introduce Japan to this woman.” He pointed to me. “Her name is Anya Balanchine. She is the president of the renowned Dark Room cacao club in New York City, and she has done me the great honor of becoming my wife.”

  Flashbulbs went off. I smiled at the reporters.

  The story went global. In certain parts of the world, both my name and my husband’s were notorious, and it was noteworthy, I suppose, that two organized-crime families should have merged. In reality, our families had joined years before, when Leo had married the illegitimate Noriko.

  * * *

  I knew without him having to say it that Yuji wanted to see at least one of the clubs open before he died. And though I was only a bogus wife, I wanted to make him happy. For the rest of the summer, Yuji and I worked to launch the Light Bars. It wasn’t easy—the cultural and linguistic barriers could not be overstated. I worried for Yuji’s health. He was as tireless as a dying man can be.

  About a week after my twentieth birthday, the first Light Bar opened. The mood of the place was more like an upscale teahouse than a nightclub. When you entered, a carpet of rose petals led you to the main room. Tiny Christmas lights hung everywhere in messy strings, and column candles in hammered silver cans lit the wrought iron tables, which were each canopied by diaphanous white fabric. Yuji and I had made it the most romantic place imaginable—the irony being that the two people who had created it had not been in love.

  His heart was incredibly weak by this point and he was not able to stay at the opening long. “Are you happy?” I asked him on the ride back to his estate.

  “I am,” he said. “Tomorrow, we will return to work. Maybe I will live to see Tokyo, too.”

  * * *

  That night, I went down the hall to Yuji’s room. He often couldn’t sleep through the night. I made sure his light was on before I knocked.

  “Yuji,” I said, “I’m going home to help my sister move into her dorm, but I’ll return in two weeks. I’d invite you to come along with me, but in your condition…”

  Yuji nodded. “Of course.”

  “Please don’t die while I’m away.”

  “I won’t. Do you want to know a secret?” he asked.

  “Always from you.”

  “Go to the window and look by the koi pond,” he said.

  I obeyed. Yuji’s gray cat was sitting next to a black cat on the bench. The gray cat licked the black cat’s cheek. “Oh! They’re in love, aren’t they? How do you think they met?”

  “There’s a farm not so far down the road from here. I suppose he might be from there.”

  “Or maybe he’s a city cat,” I said. “Come to the country for the girl of his dreams.”

  “I like your way better.” He was smiling to himself.

  He patted the spot next to him in bed, and I lay down beside him.

  “How do you feel?” He hated the question, but I wanted to know.

  “I feel happy that I have been able to push Ono Sweets into the new era. It’s 2086, Anya. We must be ready for the twenty-second century.”

  “How is your heart?” I specified.

  “It beats. For now, it beats.” I lay my hand on his chest, and he flinched slightly. “Am I hurting you?”

  “It’s fine.” He inhaled. “No, it’s good. The only people who touch me are doctors so I appreciate the change.”

  “Tell me a story about my father,” I said.

  Yuji thought for a moment before he spoke. “When I was introduced to him, it was not long after the kidnapping. I was wary of strangers. I think I have told you this before.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “He was an enormous man, and I was terrified of him. He got down on his knees and held his palm faceup the way you would when approaching a timid animal. ‘I hear you have an interesting battle wound, young man. Would you like to show it to me?’ he asked. I was embarrassed to be missing a finger, but I held out my hand to him anyway. He looked at it for the longest time. ‘That is a scar to be proud of,’ he said.”

  Yuji held out his hand to me, and I kissed it in the broken place. Years earlier, my father’s hand had touched that hand, too.

  “I am glad I will always be your first husband,” he said.

  “And last,” I said. “I don’t think I am built for marriage or for love.”

  “I’m not certain you are right. You’re still so young, and life is usually long.”

  He fell asleep shortly after that. His breathing was labored, and beneath my hand, his heartbeat was so weak that I could barely make it out.

  * * *

  When I awoke the next day, the bed was soaking wet. So as not to embarrass Yuji, I tried to slip away without him seeing me. He awoke shivering and sat straight up.

  “Sumimasen,” he said, bowing his head. He rarely spoke in Japanese to me.

  “It’s fine.” I looked him in the eye. I remembered that Nana had always hated when people didn’t look her in the eye.

  On the sheets, the urine was spotted with blood.

  “Anya, please go.”

  “I want to help you,” I said.

  “This has no dignity. Please leave.”

  But I did not leave.

  His eyes were wide and panicked. “Please leave. I don’t want you here.”

  “Yuji, you are my husband.”

  “It is only a business arrangement.”

  “You are my friend, then.”

  “You do not have to do anything for me. I do not expect this kind of service from you.” He shook his head.

  I went over to him. “This is nothing to be ashamed of,” I said. “This is just life.” I helped him out of bed and to the bathroom, where I drew him a bath. I barely felt his weight.

  “Please leave me,” he whimpered.

  “I won’t,” I said. “Not because of our arrangement, but because of everything you’ve done for me. You saved my brother’s life. You smuggled me out of the country. You told a silly teenage girl to demand more of herself. Even now, you offer me everything you have. Helping you when you are sick hardly makes us even.”

  He bowed his head.

  I helped him out of his damp clothes and into the bath. I ran hot water over a tough, natural sponge and washed his back. He closed his eyes.

  “Many months ago, I was even sicker than I am now. The pain was worse. They were still trying to cure me then, but I knew it was hopeless,” he said. “I asked Kazuo to kill me. I handed him my father’s samurai sword. I said, ‘You must cut off my head so that I can die with some honor.’ Tears in his eyes, he refused. He said, ‘You have time. I will not steal that time from you. Use your time, Ono-san.’ He was right. I began to think of what I wanted to do with the end of my days. Yours was the face that kept coming back to me. And so when I was well enough, I went to America to see if I could convince
you to marry me. I was not sure that you would.”

  “I honor my debts.”

  “But I had another plan for if you hadn’t come. My alternate plan was to track down Sophia and murder her. I hate her for doing this to me.”

  “I hate her, too.” I wrung out the sponge.

  “Promise me you will kill her if you ever see her again.”

  For a moment, I considered his request. “I won’t do that, Yuji. I’m not in the murder business and neither are you.”

  We had been raised like wolves, Yuji and I. He thought it was perfectly fine to ask me to kill for him, but too much of an imposition to ask for help into the bath.

  XVII

  I BRIEFLY TEND TO BUSINESS AT HOME; LIFE GOES ON WITHOUT ME

  AND THEN I WAS BACK IN BOSTON. I was relieved to be among English speakers again and to be with Natty, though nothing I did that weekend felt quite real. It was strange to be among people my age, people who were still in school, people who hadn’t married or run businesses. The resident adviser at her dorm was a goofy, cute, dark-haired boy named Vikram. He shook my hand and promised to take good care of my sister. “How long are you in Boston, Natty’s sister?” he asked. “I could show you some cool places.”

  I showed him my wedding band. “I’m married, and I’ve already seen some places.”

  “You have been so quiet this weekend,” Natty said. We were lying on her bed, which we had just outfitted with fresh white sheets.

  “I’m jet-lagged,” I said.

  “I could have managed myself. You didn’t have to come.”

  “Natty, I would never miss this.” I rolled over and kissed my sister on her smooth, pink cheek.

  Toward the end of the weekend, I turned on my slate. I thought about contacting Win, but I didn’t. It would have seemed disloyal to Yuji, though I’m not sure why I felt that way. Win had not been my boyfriend for over two years now, and I doubted he ever would be again. It would have been pleasant to see him, though.

  * * *

  I stopped in New York and then San Francisco on my way back to Japan. In New York, I found that Theo had moved out of the apartment. When I went into the office, he did not ask about my marriage. He was all business.

  “Anya, Luna says that you require more cacao to supply the five new locations in Japan. At first I didn’t know if we could do it—Granja Mañana is only so big, you know? But then she researched the matter and found that we could buy a derelict coffee farm about fifteen miles away from Granja Mañana. I need to know if you are serious about needing that cacao.”

  “I am serious,” I said.

  “Bueno. We will do this then.” He smiled at me, but it was not a warm smile. It was a professional one. And then Theo left. It was as if we had never meant anything to each other.

  I had wondered if he might quit or go back to Mexico. He hadn’t, and I admired him for it. He had taken an apartment across town. My fallen-woman status wasn’t enough reason for him to leave the Dark Room. He loved our business. He loved what we had built even though he hated me.

  With Theo gone, Scarlet was happy to have my apartment to Felix and herself. “I suppose some year we’ll have to get our own place,” she said as we sat in the living room.

  “Why?”

  “To prove I’m a grownup, something like that. I mean, I can’t be thirty and living in my best friend’s apartment. And I’ve been on the Upper East Side my whole life. It might be nice to see another part of town. Also, I don’t know anyone who lives up here anymore.” She’d been doing more theater, and she reported that most of her friends lived downtown or in the boroughs.

  “Do you hear from”—I lowered my voice in case Felix was listening—“Gable?”

  “He sends some money, not that often, and he sent a football for Felix’s second birthday. An adult football.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I guess he was thinking ahead. Felix’ll be using that in about ten years.”

  “He’ll be using that never.” She scooped the toddler up from the floor where he was playing with blocks and wearing a tiny kimono I’d bought in Japan and said to him, “Mama doesn’t want a big, dumb football spoiling that handsome face.” Felix kissed her and then he kissed me.

  “He kisses everyone,” Scarlet explained. “He’s very into kissing.”

  “So were you.”

  “Shut up,” Scarlet said, laughing. “Anyway, what’s better than kissing? I’m still into kissing.” She sighed. “God, I miss kissing.”

  Felix kissed her again.

  “Thank you, Fee. So, Anya my darling bestest friend, should we discuss the fact that you’re married?” Scarlet asked.

  “There’s not much to report,” I said.

  * * *

  I had lunch with Mouse. As the new locations of the Dark Room had begun to open across the country, we’d managed to convert almost 90 percent of the Balanchines to legal employment. We toasted to our successes and talked about old times.

  “I ran into Rinko,” she said. “Do you remember her?”

  “Of course I remember her.”

  “Well, she didn’t even recognize me. I was introduced to her as Kate Bonham, Balanchine crime boss, and she didn’t even register that I was Mouse, the girl she had tormented for three years at Liberty. I thought surely she’d connect you with me, but she didn’t.”

  “Is she still in coffee?” I asked.

  “She is. The coffee people are having a rough time of it.”

  “Those Rimbaud laws are as stupid on coffee as they are on chocolate.”

  “I know it,” Mouse said.

  “Anything else we should discuss?”

  “Well, the Russians have been silent a while. I don’t necessarily like it or trust it. However, I’ve heard that they’re channeling their excess supply to other families and to other countries. So maybe they’ve made peace with the fact that the Balanchines are out of the chocolate business.” She took a drink. “Maybe knowing that messing with Balanchine means messing with Ono was enough to calm everyone down. Who knows? I doubt it though. We’ll definitely hear from them again.

  “Congratulations on your marriage, by the way,” Mouse said. “I was going to get you a present, but I wasn’t sure what you’d want.”

  “What to buy for the mafiya daughter entering an inevitably tragic marriage of convenience.”

  “It’s hard, right? She’s the girl who has everything.”

  “I guess what I’d like is for no one in this Family to have to take a job dealing illegal chocolate ever again.”

  “I’m trying, Anya.”

  “I know you are.”

  We shook hands. Neither of us were the hugging kind.

  “Anya, wait. Before you go. Thank you.”

  “For what, Mouse?”

  “For recommending me to Fats. For trusting me with so much more than anyone ever had. For never asking me what my crime was. For everything, my whole life really. I don’t think you have any idea how much you’ve saved me.”

  “Loyal friends are hard to come by, Mouse.”

  * * *

  The last person I saw before I left town was Mr. Delacroix. He took me out to dinner to celebrate my marriage. A restaurant had opened across the street from the Dark Room. There had not been a new restaurant on that block for a decade.

  Mr. Delacroix was contemplating a run for mayor. He had gotten quite a bit more popular since helping me open the Dark Room. If he did run, I knew it would mean that he would have to leave the business.

  “I’m not certain married life agrees with you,” he said. “You look very tired.”

  “The travel.” I used my standard excuse.

  “I suspect it is more than that.”

  I gave him my haughtiest look. “We don’t speak of our personal lives, colleague,” I said.

  “Fine, Anya.”

  The waiter offered us dessert. I declined, but Mr. Delacroix ordered the pie. “If you were my daughter—” he said.

  “I am not your dau
ghter.”

  “But let us suspend disbelief and imagine that you are. You remind me of her a bit, you know. If you were my daughter, I would tell you to let go of any guilt you might be feeling. You made a decision. Maybe it was right; maybe it was wrong. But the decision is done. There is nothing you can do now except continue moving ahead.”

  “Have you made decisions you regret?”

  “Anya. Look who you are talking to. I am the king of regrets. But I might very well be mayor in two years. Life is turnabouts, my dear. Look at us. Wasn’t I the worst enemy of your seventeenth year of life? And now I am your friend.”

  “I wouldn’t overstate matters, Mr. Delacroix. It has already been established that we are colleagues, nothing more. I saw your son at Natty’s graduation, by the way.”

  “I know.”

  “You always know everything.”

  “Win told me. He said, ‘I am glad you helped her open the business, Dad,’ or something to that effect. He said that—wait for it—he had been wrong. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. One is never prepared for one’s son to say something so shocking as, ‘Dad, you were right.’”

  “Well, isn’t that good news come too late?” I twisted my wedding band around my finger.

  “My dear, it is never too late. Now won’t you finish this pie of mine? And please get a good night’s sleep. You have a long flight tomorrow.”

  “Mr. Delacroix,” I said. “If you do decide to run for mayor, you will have my complete support.”

  “You have decided you won’t miss me at the Dark Room.”

  “No, it isn’t that. I would miss your counsel more than I can say. However, I’m willing to sacrifice you to the greater good. In these years we have worked together, you have steered me right every time. Whenever I would listen, that is. And having seen the Bertha Sinclairs of this world in action, I would rather back you.”

  “Thank you, Anya. The support and compliments of a colleague are always appreciated.”