Gabrielle Zevin - In the Age of Love and Chocolate

“Is that coffee I smell?”

Indeed, Win had taken me to a coffee speakeasy. On the back counter, an antique espresso machine steamed and chirped, blithely unaware that it was in the process of manufacturing a drug. The top of the machine was a dented copper dome that reminded me of a Russian cathedral. Win ordered me a cup, and then he introduced me to the owner.

“Anya Balanchine?” the owner said. “Naw, you’re too young to be Anya Balanchine. You’re a bona fide folk hero. When are you going to do for coffee what you did for chocolate?”

“Well, I—”

“I’d like to stop running my coffee shop from a barn someday. Free coffee for Anya Balanchine. Hey Win, how’s your dad?”

“He’s running for mayor.”

“Give him my regards, would you?”

Win said he would, and the owner led us over to a wrought-iron table for two by the window.

“People are impressed with you in these parts,” Win said.

“Listen, Win, I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your vacation. I didn’t know you’d be here. Your dad said you’d only be staying for a couple of days in August.”

Win shook his head, then stirred cream into his espresso. “I’m glad to see you,” he said. “I hope I’m a little helpful to you.”

“You are helpful to me,” I said after a while. “You have always been helpful to me.”

“If you wanted more, all you would have to do is ask.”

I changed the subject. “You are a senior next year, and then medical school?”

“Yes.”

“So you must have taken premed. What’s my prognosis?”

“I’m not a doctor yet, Anya.”

“But looking at me, what do you think? I would like an honest opinion of what a person sees when he or she looks at me.”

“I think you look as if you’ve been through something unimaginably terrible,” he said finally. “However, I suspect if I met you today, if I were walking into this coffee shop, having never seen you before, I’d walk across this room and if no one was sitting across from you and maybe even if someone was, I’d take off my hat and I’d offer to buy you a cup of coffee.”

“And then you’d meet me, and you’d find out bad things about me, and you’d probably walk right out the door.”

“What things could I possibly find out?”

I looked at him. “ You know. Stuff that sends a nice boy in a hat careening off in the opposite direction.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’m still stupid when it comes to dark-haired, green-eyed girls.”

On the way back, it began to rain. It was difficult to maneuver my cane on the moist and loamy ground. “Lean into me,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”

The next day, I went back out to the deck. I had found an old copy of Sense and Sensibility on the bookshelf in the office, and I had decided to read it.

“You read a lot these days,” Win said.

“I’ve taken it up now that I’m a shut-in.”

“Well, I won’t interrupt you,” he said.

He lay down on the chair next to mine and picked up his book.

His presence distracted me from my reading. “How is school?” I said.

“You always ask that. We spoke of it yesterday.”

“I’m interested. I didn’t get to go to college.”

“You could still go.” He put his hand over my face to shield it from the sun. “You should get a sun hat, by the way.”

“It seems too late for that.”

“Which? College or sun hats?”

“Both. I meant college, though I’ve never been a hat person,” I said.

He took off his own hat and set it on my head. “I’ve never known a girl who needed a hat more. Why wouldn’t you want an added layer of protection from the sun and everything else? By the way, you’re only twenty.”

“Twenty-one next month.”

“People go to college at different times,” Win said. “You have the money.”

I looked at Win. “I’m a shadow crime boss. I run nightclubs. I don’t see college in my future.”

“As you like, Anya.” He set down his book. “ No . Do you know what your problem is?”

“I suppose you are going to tell me.”

“You have always been far too fatalistic. I’ve wanted to say that to you for the longest time.”

“Why didn’t you? Get it off your chest. It isn’t good to keep your feelings inside, I should know.”

“When I was your boyfriend, I had an interest in avoiding conflict.”

“So you let me think I was right?” I said. “The whole time we were together?”

“Not the whole time. Sometimes.”

“Until that last time, and then you were out the door.” I tried to make this a joke. “For a couple of days, I thought you might come back.”

“So did I. But I was so angry with you. Besides, wouldn’t you have hated me if I had come back? That’s what I told myself. If I relent, she won’t love me anyway. So better to have some dignity.”

“High school relationships aren’t meant to last forever,” I said. “It seems like we’re talking about other people. I don’t even feel sad anymore when I think of it.”

“Aren’t you the most fantastically evolved young adult on this deck?” He picked up his old paperback book.

“What are you reading anyway?” I asked.

He held up the book.

“ The Godfather ,” I read.

“Yes, it’s about an organized-crime family. I should have read it years ago.”

“Are you learning about me?”

“Indeed,” he said with mirth in his voice. “I finally understand you.”

“So?”

“You had to open that club and you had to do everything you could to make it succeed. All that had been decided long before I ever met you.”

In August, the weather turned miserable. I could not wear my long dresses and sweaters anymore, which meant showing more of my skin than I was comfortable with. Win’s mother suggested that we go swimming in the river. She insisted that swimming would be good for my recovery. She was probably right, but I didn’t know how to swim. I had been born in New York City in 2066, the summer the pools had been drained to conserve water. “Win could teach you,” Ms. Rothschild said. “He’s an excellent swimmer.”

Win gave his mother a look that was a pretty close approximation to what I was feeling about the idea of him teaching me to swim.

“Jane, I would rather not,” he said.

Ms. Rothschild shook her head at her son. “I don’t like it when you call me Jane. I’m not clueless, Win. I know the two of you were romantic once, but what difference does that make? Anya should learn to swim while she is here. It will be good for her.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t even have a swimsuit.” I had never needed one.

“You’ll borrow one of mine,” she said.

In my room, I put on her swimsuit, which hung on me. The swimsuit was pretty modest in cut, though I still felt incredibly exposed. I threw on a T-shirt, but you could still see a bit of the scar that was below my collarbone.

If Win noticed it, he did not say.

Not that he would have. The boy had always had manners.

When I got into the water, he didn’t say much actually. He told me to get on my stomach. He held me up. He demonstrated how to kick and how to move my arms. It took me no time to catch on. I was good at swimming, which was easy compared to walking.

“It’s too bad they didn’t have a swim team at Trinity,” I said. “Maybe I should say it’s too bad there weren’t any pools in New York City.”

“Maybe your whole life would have been different.”

“I would have been a jock,” I said.

“I can see that. The famous Balanchine aggression would have been useful in athletic competition.”