She sees me and stops talking abruptly, walking toward me without saying good-bye to the man. He doesn’t seem to mind and ambles off in another direction.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yes. I just need to grab my things.” She walks off and doesn’t turn around to make sure I’m following, but of course I am.
In her office, I lean against her desk as she shuts off her computer and gathers her things. A stocky, unattractive woman with frizzy black hair stomps into the room. “Did you leave your cart in the reference section, Annika? Someone abandoned theirs and it’s blocking the row.” She stops talking when she realizes there’s someone else in the room.
“No,” Annika says. “Mine is back where it belongs.”
The woman studies me and smooths her hair. “Hi. I’m Audrey. Annika’s superior.” She thrusts out her hand and her chest.
“She’s not my superior,” Annika says. “I don’t report to her.”
Audrey gives an embarrassed smile with a touch of irritation carefully hidden underneath.
But I notice it.
“Jonathan.” I shake her hand quickly.
Audrey shoots Annika a pointed look. “So that’s who you were leaving the message for the other day, Annika.” She turns back to me, coy. “And you are…”
That’s not really any of your business. “Annika’s college boyfriend.”
Audrey’s eyes get big.
I look at Annika, warmly. “I was her first love.”
“He was my first everything,” Annika says matter-of-factly.
“And now you’ve reconnected?” Audrey asks. She can barely contain her curiosity.
I smile cryptically. “Something like that.”
* * *
“I don’t like Audrey,” Annika says as we make our way toward the exit.
“I can’t say I blame you.”
“She isn’t very nice to me, and the more I try to stand up for myself, the worse it gets.”
It makes me sad that Annika still has to deal with this kind of crap after all these years, but I see it every day at my own workplace. The jockeying for power. Behavior more suitable to high school than the business world.
“Do you know how sometimes you think of the perfect rebuttal but by the time you come up with it, it’s hours later?” she asks.
“Sure.”
“That’s how it always is with me and Audrey.”
“I bet you can hold your own,” I say, but she shrugs and looks down at the ground.
We grab a cab outside the library. I’d asked Annika if she liked the food at Trattoria No. 10 and told her I’d booked a table. “But I can change it if you’d rather go someplace else.”
“I love the food there,” she’d said. “Especially the stuffed shells.”
“How was your day?” I ask once I’ve given the cab driver our destination.
“It was good. Busy. I spent most of the day weeding.”
“Weeding?”
“Our collections are like our gardens and we go through them looking for damaged or outdated books. I take my cart and pull off a big section to make sure the selection is something my patrons would like. I would never just leave my cart in the row,” she mutters.
It’s nice to see her so passionate about her job, and even more than that, so comfortable with me. Her demeanor has changed significantly, and for the better, since our coffee date. She’s not the only one who seems more relaxed, because Annika has always had that effect on me. Currently, there are very few people in my life I can be one hundred percent myself around, but she’s always been one of them. I don’t have to put on a show or try to impress her the way I did with Liz. It’s very liberating.
“How was your day?” she blurts a bit loudly and unexpectedly, as if she just realized she should ask and is trying to make up for it with urgency and enthusiasm. It startles me a little.
“Also busy.” I should still be at work, toiling away in my office until midnight so I can complain about it the next morning the way my peers will, for the sole purpose of making sure everyone knows how late we were there. The dog and pony show we all have starring roles in drives me insane, but choosing not to participate really isn’t an option.
The cab pulls up to the curb, and I pay and follow Annika into the restaurant.
The hostess greets us with an unusually big smile and an enthusiastic “Hello!” She comes around from behind the podium and walks toward Annika, arms outstretched. I tense for a second, because Annika doesn’t like it when strangers touch her, but she’s smiling and flapping her hands at the hostess. “Claire! Hi!” They hug.
“It’s so good to see you. It’s been a while.”
Annika nods her head. “I know. It has.”
“We have a reservation for two under the name Hoffman,” I say.
Claire checks my name off the list and leads us to a cozy table for two. “I’ll send Rita over with your drink,” she says to Annika.
Annika sits down, beams like a child at Claire. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
“Still cherry?”
“Yep.”
I’m not entirely sure what Annika’s connection is to this woman, but I’m starting to formulate a few theories.
“For you, sir?” Claire asks.
“Gin and tonic, please.”
“Right away.” She squeezes Annika’s shoulder and heads back toward her podium.
“So,” I say. “Is that a friend of yours or did you forget to mention you’re a VIP-level customer here?” I use a joking tone.
Before she can answer me, a man dressed in chef’s clothing barrels toward our table. Annika lights up. “Nicholas!”
“Annika!” he says. “We weren’t sure you’d be back.”
“Well, I haven’t been since that night. But Jonathan asked me if I liked the food here and you know how much I enjoy the stuffed shells so…” She looks at him like, ta-da!
What is happening here?
“I don’t think he’s been back either.”
“I’m not surprised. He prefers Mexican food.”
“Well, I’m happy to see your beautiful face at one of my tables.” He glances at me and then back to Annika. She completely misses the cue, and after an awkward silence, I extend my hand and he shakes it. “Jonathan.”
“Nicholas.”
Rita, a middle-aged, kind-looking motherly type, arrives with our drinks. “Honey, you sure are a sight for sore eyes,” she says, and sets down our drinks. “I’m so happy to see you here again.”
“Hi, Rita,” Annika says, and takes a long pull on her straw. “This is where I discovered Italian sodas,” she says as Rita moves on to the next table. “They’re so good. I usually get the cherry, but lemon is my second favorite. Do you want a sip?”
“No thanks.” I take a rather large drink from my own glass. “Can you fill me in?”
At first she looks like she doesn’t understand what I’m asking, but then realization dawns on her face. “Oh! My ex-boyfriend and I made quite a scene the last time we ate here. Well, he did. He could be quite loud when he was annoyed. Janice called him high-strung. Well, she called him a lot of things, but that was the nicest.”
“Why didn’t you say something? We could have gone to a different restaurant.”
“You asked if I liked the food here, and I do. It’s probably my favorite menu in the entire city. I like that they don’t change it a lot, but if the owner ever takes one of my favorites away, Nicholas said he’d make it special. All I’d have to do is ask him.”
“You’re not bothered by what happened the last time you were here?”
“That wasn’t the restaurant’s fault.”
“So, you had a fight?” I gesture with my hands as if I’m actually trying to pull the story out of her.
“It started in the cab on the way over. Ryan—that was his name—wanted us to go on vacation with his best friend and the friend
’s wife who I once overheard say I was weird, so I said I didn’t understand why she would want to go on vacation with us in the first place. And I had already told him I didn’t think I could go on a cruise because I get seasick easily.” I nod, because I know Annika has a delicate stomach.
“… Plus you know how much I would hate the feel of sand under my toes.”
I did. Grass was good, but sand and dirt were deal breakers. A cool tile floor on a hot day was her favorite, but soft carpet ran a close second.
“But the thing is, he never listened to me. He would always say things like ‘It’s not that big of a deal’ or ‘You’ll be fine.’ But I knew I would not be fine. We were still arguing about it when Claire seated us. Then he said that he would ask his friend to reconsider the cruise but that the beach part was nonnegotiable because his friend’s wife really loved the water, and I snorted and said she really loved vodka because the last time we went out for dinner with them, she drank so much she passed out right there at the table. I kept poking her, but it was lights out.
“Then Ryan said, ‘Can’t you for once just try?’ and I had no clue what he was talking about because all we were doing is sitting at that table over there”—she points to a small table directly across from us—“eating dinner. Try what?
“I guess I didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear because then he said, ‘Do you know what it’s like to be with someone who looks like you but then opens her mouth and ruins everything?’ and I told him I did not and that I had no idea what that even meant, and then his face turned red. ‘It’s a complete fucking waste,’ he said. ‘I can’t take it anymore.’ Then he stood up and started yelling really loud about how crazy I was, and the restaurant staff made him leave.”
“Annika, that’s horrible. I can’t believe he talked to you that way.” No wonder everyone here is so kind to her.
“Usually, he didn’t. And when we first started dating he was actually very sweet. Tina said our problems were due to the fact that we don’t speak the same language. Janice told me that he probably snapped and that he was an asshole and she had never liked him.”
“Then what happened?”
“Claire came over to make sure I was okay and suggested a big piece of cheesecake. Their desserts are really good here.”
“And after that?”
“I ate the cheesecake and went home. Janice was right. Ryan was a jerk. He was waiting for me in my apartment when I got home because he had a key. He seemed calmer, but he kept bringing up all the times I’d said or done the wrong thing. It made me feel like crying. But then I remembered that no one can make me feel inferior without my consent.”
“Did Janice tell you that?”
“Eleanor Roosevelt did. But Janice is the one who gave me a whole book of her quotes, and I memorized all of them. I also really like the one that says ‘A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong it is until it’s in hot water.’ Then I told Ryan I didn’t like the way he treated me and the only time he was actually nice was when he wanted to have sex.” She says it really loud, and the heads of the couple next to us whip around. I turn my back to them slightly.
“Then I told him it was over and that he had to give me my key back.”
“Jesus.”
“I know. I should have never given it to him in the first place. Anyway, I haven’t seen him since.”
At the end of the evening, I had anticipated pointing out how much better this date had gone than the first time we tried it in college, but I’m not sure that’s true any longer.
“You could have asked me to take you someplace else. I certainly would have.”
“Why?”
“You and your most recent boyfriend experienced a very public and—from what I gathered—extremely loud breakup here.”
“You’re right. It was kind of a disaster.” She looks around at our fellow diners. “I don’t think any of these people were there that night, though. It was almost a year ago.”
“I’m glad you told him it was over.” I must have stared at her a beat too long, because she averts her eyes, but she smiles and her cheeks flush slightly. She puts down her menu. “I don’t even know why I’m looking at this. There’s no way I could order anything but the stuffed shells.”
* * *
We split a piece of the cheesecake for dessert and Annika says good-bye to everyone on our way out the door.
“1333 South Wabash,” I tell the driver when we slide into the backseat of a cab. “Is it okay if I come in for a while?” I ask Annika.
“Yes. I have something I want to show you.” She sounds incredibly excited.
“Consider my curiosity piqued.” Knowing Annika, it could be any number of things.
She lives on the sixth floor and when we enter her apartment, there’s an immediate sense of familiarity. The rooms are in a state of organized chaos that reveals its order only to her. Everything is clean, because Annika doesn’t like her living space to be dirty, but I could not begin to make sense of it. There’s a row of breakfast cereal boxes on the counter in the kitchen. They’re all Cheerios, but every one of them is a different variety. Bright blue bowls are stacked next to the cereal boxes, each one with a spoon already in it. Travel cups for transporting smoothies are lined up in a row next to a blender. There’s a teapot on the stove, and on the counter to the left are mugs with the string of a tea bag hanging over the side. It’s like her own little breakfast assembly line.
In the living room, the couch and chair have several throw pillows and blankets piled on them, and there’s a leaning tower of crossword-puzzle books stacked haphazardly next to an ottoman. I would bet money that every single crossword puzzle has been completed, in ink.
In addition to the overstuffed furniture, covered in soft fabrics, there are several shelves overflowing with hardcover and softcover books. The titles spill out onto the floor. A large rug covers the ceramic tile floor in front of the couch, and there are several plants on tabletops, and one hanging from a hook on the ceiling. A TV sits on a low table across from the couch.
“Come with me,” she says, and grabs my hand, pulling me toward the bedroom, and, once inside it, toward the bed. Now I really am wondering what she wanted to show me, and if I’ve somehow completely misread the situation. But then she kneels in front of the bed and lifts the bed skirt. It’s hard to see at first because it’s dark, but there’s a cardboard box, and in it are a cat and five small kittens. I don’t have any pets, and if I had to choose, I’d probably consider myself a dog person. But I can’t deny how cute the kittens are. The love Annika feels for these tiny animals transforms her face, and I’m reminded of how protective and nurturing she can be.
“How old are they?”
“Three weeks. The cat’s a stray that had been brought into the shelter. They needed someone to foster it until the kittens were born and old enough to be adopted. I’m going to keep the mom. Usually I foster an animal that’s sick or injured and awaiting surgery or whatever. That way I get the chance to help more than one. Lately it’s been harder and harder to give them up so I decided I’d keep the next one. I wouldn’t feel right adopting a dog because I’m gone all day, but I think a cat will make a perfect companion for me.”
“Do you like living alone?”
“I got used to it when I went back to campus after you and Janice graduated. I hated it at first, but eventually I grew to love it.”
“Was it hard for you without Janice there?” I swallow. “Without me?”
Her face falls a little. “There were times when it was very hard. But it was necessary for me. It prepared me. I would never have been able to contemplate moving to the city on my own if I hadn’t tried it on for size first.”
“Was the guy I saw you talking to at the library when I picked you up the other person you were in a relationship with?”
“Yes. That was Monte. I’d been flirting with him for months and I got tired of waiting for him to ask me out, so I invited him to go to the aquarium
one Saturday. He would never say anything unkind to me the way Ryan did, but I just got so frustrated with him while we were dating. He mostly wanted to communicate via email, and when we did speak in person, I had to spell everything out for him all the time and it made me tired.”
I’ve been smiling so hard since she started talking about Monte that my face actually hurts. How could any man ever be unkind to this woman? The affection I once felt for Annika might have gone dormant for a while, but it roars out of hibernation and makes me feel better about life than I have in a long time. There’s something so hopeful about being around her again.
I glance at my watch. It’s almost nine and I can already tell she’s tired by the look in her eyes and the way she’s leaning her head back against the edge of the bed. “I should go. Let you wind down and get some sleep.”
She walks me to the door. “Thanks for dinner. Sorry about the Ryan thing. I guess I just don’t ever think about that relationship anymore.”
For a second, her statement feels like a tiny ice pick to the heart. Is that how it works for her? Is that how she felt after me?
She catches me off guard when she throws her arms around my neck and hugs me. I groan softly when I register the smell of her skin. Liz had been a big believer in pheromones and though her scent hadn’t done much for me, I have a feeling she wasn’t all that drawn to mine either. I don’t know if I buy into that kind of thing, but whatever the cause, catching a whiff of Annika has always had a strong effect on me. I can’t explain what she smells like because it’s indescribable. On the rare occasion when she wasn’t spending the night in my bed at my college apartment, I would switch pillows and lay my head on hers. The odd thing is that Annika couldn’t stand perfume and only used unscented soap, so whatever I detected had to be coming straight from inside her.
This obviously isn’t our first date, and following some sort of protocol seems arbitrary and juvenile. I mean, we’ve seen each other naked. I know the sounds she makes when she’s turned on. There aren’t many places on her body that my fingers and mouth haven’t explored.
The Girl He Used to Know Page 7