My mom answered him. “I think it looks very unique and if you don’t like it, you can come home earlier next year and help Dad and Annika trim it.” Then she offered him a frosted sugar cookie and a beer, and he stopped complaining. I nearly gagged thinking about what that combination would taste like.
On Christmas Eve, after our extended family members had gathered up their gifts, said their good-byes, and gone home, I sat down next to the tree to open Jonathan’s gift. My mom joined me. “I think I’m more excited than you are, Annika.”
I was more curious than excited, because I’d been playing a game with myself where I had to come up with a different guess every night before I went to sleep for what was inside the box. I wrote them all down in an old notebook I found in my room. What if it was full of tiny white seashells from Tahiti? Or forest-green sea glass from the Atlantic Ocean? My favorite guess was that he’d bought me a fossilized flower in burnt-orange amber.
I tore off the wrapping paper, but it was not a fossilized flower in amber, or seashells, or sea glass.
It was a bottle of Dune perfume by Christian Dior, and though Janice squealed when I told her about it later, the brand meant nothing to me, because I would never wear it. Perfume felt like a cloud of poison when it settled on my skin. One day at the mall, when I was twelve, a woman had squirted me with perfume as I walked by with my mother. It had sent me into a tailspin of whimpering tears, and once my mother got me out of the mall and into her car, I ripped off most of my clothing. At home, I threw myself into the shower and didn’t come out for almost forty-five minutes.
“What a pretty bottle,” my mom said. It was light pink with a shiny cap. I ran my fingers over the smooth glass but did not uncap it or spritz a tiny bit into the air to see what it smelled like. “It’s the thought that counts,” she said. “Make sure you tell Jonathan thank you.”
“I will,” I said.
Although the gift was something I would never use, I loved the ribbon he’d used to wrap around the gift, and I spent the rest of the evening absently running my fingers across the curling strands. My mom was right, though. The bottle really was pretty, and the perfume ended up in a special spot on my dresser where it would remain, capped and unused, for the entirety of the winter break.
22
Annika
THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
1991
Jonathan arrived the day after Christmas. My mom spent the morning in the kitchen making a whole new meal even though my dad wanted to know why we couldn’t just eat the leftovers from the day before. It sounded like a logical plan to me, but my mom insisted that it would be wrong to do that even though we could barely get the refrigerator door shut because there was so much food in there already.
The five of us sat down to an early lunch of roasted chicken and scalloped potatoes. “Is the team ready for the competition?” my mom asked.
“I think so,” Jonathan said. “We’re really strong this year. Lots of good players, including Annika.”
“What’s your major, Jonathan?” Will asked.
“Business.”
“I graduated with a business degree from Illinois in 1985. Got my master’s two years later. Night school at NYU.”
“I hope to follow in the exact same path.”
“Really?” Will scowled in my direction. “Why didn’t you tell me that, Annika?”
“You never asked,” I said. “Plus, I haven’t talked to you since last summer.”
“Maybe I could put in a good word for you when you start interviewing,” Will said.
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”
“How’s the chicken?” my mom asked.
“It’s really good,” Jonathan said.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Mom,” Will said.
My dad and I kept silent. We’d eaten my mom’s chicken a thousand times, and she already knew we liked it.
As I was helping my mom clear the table, Will came up to me and said, “I like this guy. You should really hold on to him.”
“I will try to hold on to him,” I said. I wasn’t sure exactly how to do that, but Will was being nice for once and the last thing I wanted was to lose the only boyfriend I’d ever had. It would have been an easier promise to keep if I’d known how I managed to get one in the first place.
Jonathan came upstairs with me when I went up to grab my things. “Thank you for the perfume,” I said, pointing to its place of honor on my dresser. “It was a very thoughtful gift, and I love it.” The words came out smoothly, because my mom had made me practice what I would say to Jonathan until I got it right.
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
I threw a few more things into my suitcase and zipped it up.
“Is that it?” Jonathan asked.
“Yep.”
“You don’t need anything else?”
“Nope. That’s everything.” He picked up my suitcase and headed for the door.
I followed him, but on the way out of my bedroom, I grabbed the gold ribbon lying next to the perfume on my dresser and shoved it into my purse.
* * *
Jonathan lived in a small ranch-style home at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was neat and stark inside, unlike my parents’ ramshackle split-level with its abundance of knickknacks, cat toys, and books. His mother was waiting for us, and after she hugged Jonathan and kissed his cheek, she turned to me and said, “You must be Katherine. I’m Cheryl.”
“Mom, this is Annika. I’ve said her name like a thousand times.”
“Oh. Of course, Annika. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
She shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Jonathan talks about you all the time.”
“Mom,” Jonathan said.
“Sorry.” His mother smiled and winked at me. I had no idea what it meant, but I smiled back. His mom seemed nice, and for some reason, I felt instantly comfortable around her. There was something very unthreatening about her demeanor. Sometimes it was like that when I met new people. Maybe it was their vibe or some kind of aura, but whatever the reason, it always made me happy when I encountered them.
“When are you heading out?” she asked.
“In about twenty minutes. I just need to grab the rest of my things upstairs.”
“I’m sorry my mom called you by the wrong name,” Jonathan said after we went into his bedroom. “Katherine was my high school girlfriend. Maybe she got confused for a second. You both have blond hair.”
“That’s okay,” I said, because I truly hadn’t minded. I wasn’t that great with faces and names either.
Jonathan’s room looked a lot like mine, although much less cluttered. He had a lot of high school memorabilia, mostly swimming trophies and team pictures of him standing next to a pool. A stack of yearbooks sat on the floor next to the dresser, and on the wall hung a Waukegan High School banner with a picture of a bulldog. I felt like an archaeologist unearthing relics of a place I’d never visited. I found it fascinating.
“You have so many things from high school.”
“Well, yeah. Doesn’t everyone?”
“I don’t. I was home-schooled.”
“Like, always?”
“I went to a regular school until my parents pulled me out midway through seventh grade.”
“They pulled you out? Why?”
“My mom said it was to keep me safe.”
I sat down on the bed and Jonathan sat down beside me. “What did she mean by that?” he asked.
I had refused to talk about that day with anyone but my parents, and the psychologist the school hastily arranged for me to meet with said it was possible I’d blocked it out. But that wasn’t true at all. I remember the day Maria and three other girls came for me like it was yesterday. I told Jonathan how they’d kicked and punched me, bloodied my nose and pulled my hair. How they’d shoved me into a single-stall bathroom in the locker room, turned off the lights
, and pushed a chair under the doorknob on the outside so I couldn’t leave. I’d cried so hard and yelled for so long that by the time a teacher found me, lip fat and one eye nearly swollen shut, I’d grown so hoarse I couldn’t utter a sound.
“Annika,” Jonathan said quietly.
“Janice is the only person I’ve ever told this to. But I’m glad I told you.”
Telling him seemed right, in much the same way it had when I’d told him about Jake. It was like letting a dark and dusty secret out, and I liked the way I felt afterward. Unburdened. Lighter. I didn’t understand it at the time, but years later I would realize that sharing painful things that had happened to me was one of the ways I strengthened the bond I had with Jonathan.
He hugged me tight. “I don’t know what to say.”
That surprised me, because Jonathan never seemed at a loss for words. “It’s okay.” He must have needed a minute or something, because he squeezed me even tighter. When he finally let go of me, he pulled back a little and studied my face, traced my eyebrow and mouth gently with his thumb as if he needed proof that I’d healed sufficiently. “It was a long time ago,” I said.
He looked into my eyes and nodded. I turned away, and a shiny gold tube of lipstick on his dresser caught my eye. Pointing at it, I asked, “What’s that?”
“It doesn’t belong to another girl.” He answered quickly, although that possibility had not occurred to me until he said it. “The salesgirl must have thrown it in the bag when I bought your perfume. I didn’t realize it until I went to wrap your gift. I didn’t know what to do with it so I brought it home.”
I picked up the lipstick and removed the cap, becoming instantly captivated by the bright red color and especially the shape, curved and smooth and unblemished, like a brand-new crayon. “Do you like it?” he asked, and I nodded my head.
“You left the perfume at home.”
I looked down, embarrassed that I hadn’t realized I should bring the perfume with me after telling him how much I loved it. “Most smells are too strong for me to handle.”
“I should have given you the lipstick instead. I didn’t know. Now I do.” He motioned toward the door. “The bathroom’s across the hall. Go try it out.”
I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I hoped the lipstick wouldn’t feel like the sticky gloss I hated. Was I supposed to color in my lips or trace around them first? This was Janice’s area of expertise, not mine, and I’d feel foolish if I had to admit to Jonathan that I didn’t know what I was doing. I put the cap back on and set down the lipstick on the counter. Maybe I’d wait until I got back to school and could ask Janice to give me a lesson. Jonathan’s face appeared in the mirror next to mine, and I turned around.
“Aren’t you going to put it on?”
“I’ve never worn lipstick before.”
“I’ve never worn it either.” I must have looked confused, because he laughed. “It was a joke, Annika.”
“Oh!”
“Sit up here,” he said, patting the counter. After hoisting myself onto it, Jonathan stood between my legs. “I bet it’s just like a coloring book.”
Using the pointed side, Jonathan traced my lip line with the precision of a surgeon. Then he used short strokes to fill my lips in completely. I closed them, enjoying the subtle popping sound when I opened them wide again. “Check it out,” he said.
I looked over my shoulder, staring in amazement at the girl in the mirror. “Wow,” I said. The bright color heightened my features and made me curious about whether a little mascara would balance the effect and improve it even more. Janice was going to be thrilled when I asked her.
I turned back around and Jonathan took my chin in his hands, moving my face to the right and then slowly to the left, studying my mouth. “I like it.” He looked into my eyes when he said it, and just when it would have been impossible for me to hold his gaze for one more minute, he closed them and pressed his forehead to mine. Maybe other people felt what I was feeling at that moment when they looked deeply into each other’s eyes, but when Jonathan and I were joined in a way I could handle, I knew what it felt like to be deeply connected to someone.
Years later, in therapy, when Tina helped me understand that he’d done it on purpose, the sadness I’d felt at losing him had been profound. At that moment, I missed him more than I’d ever missed anything, and the possibility of seeing him again someday seemed highly unlikely. But that day in his bathroom, at his mother’s house in Waukegan, I knew that Janice had been right when she said I was falling in love with Jonathan, even if I couldn’t completely identify it yet myself.
“I will never let anyone hurt you the way those girls did,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, because I didn’t doubt for one minute that he spoke the truth.
Then Jonathan kissed that lipstick right off me.
* * *
Jonathan wanted to leave by four o’clock so we could get checked into the hotel and meet the rest of the team for a pep talk in Eric’s room.
“Mom, why is your car in the driveway instead of the garage? It’s freezing out, and it’s supposed to snow tonight. Give me your keys, and I’ll move it for you.”
“I seem to have misplaced them.”
“Well, just give me the spare key.”
“That was the spare set. I lost the first set a month ago. I thought they would have turned up by now.”
“When did you last have them?”
“I went to the store yesterday, and when I came home, I thought I put them in that little ceramic bowl on the counter. The one my sister brought back from Paris.”
Jonathan went into the kitchen, and when he returned, he was holding a set of keys. “You did, Mom. They were in the bowl.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh, good lord. I think the holidays have done me in this year. Thank you, honey.” She kissed Jonathan on the cheek and took the keys from his hand. “I’m putting these back in the bowl right now. Still can’t find the other ones,” she said on her way out of the room.
Jonathan’s mother stood in the driveway and waved as we backed out. I waved back enthusiastically.
“That was odd,” Jonathan said. “My mom never loses anything.”
“I lose everything,” I said. “Maybe that’s why I like your mom so much.”
He took his eyes off the road for a second and smiled at me. “You like her?”
“Yeah. She was really nice to me.”
“She told me she liked you, too. She called you Katherine again, but what the hell. She likes you.”
I laughed, too. “Yeah.” She likes me.
23
Annika
THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
1991
The Palmer House Hotel was the venue for the Pan-Am Championship. My mother had insisted on paying for our four-night stay, since Jonathan had been doing all the driving, and she’d given me her credit card and cautioned me not to lose it. I’d told my family about Jonathan’s dad dying and his part-time job and how he was putting himself through school. Will had said that he was probably strapped for cash, which made me feel even worse about the money he’d spent on the perfume. I had some money saved up and decided I would take Jonathan out for a nice dinner to repay him for the Christmas gift. My mom thought that was a great idea. Jonathan didn’t like the idea of me paying, but when he protested I said “I insist!” with the same tone my mother had used with me.
We deposited our luggage in our room and took the elevator two floors down to meet with the rest of the team in Eric’s room. Tournament participants had filled the hotel to capacity, and as we walked down the hall, students milled in and out of the rooms carrying ice buckets, six-packs of pop, and pizza boxes stacked five high. “One Night in Bangkok” from the Chess cast album blared from a boom box in an open doorway. When we arrived in Eric’s room, the rest of the team was lounging on the beds drinking cans of Coke.
“Hey, Jonathan. Annika,�
� Eric said. “Ready for tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” Jonathan said.
“Absolutely,” I parroted. I often formulated the answers to questions mentally before I said them out loud, but it was hard for me to come up with something on the fly, which is why I preferred, if at all possible, not to say anything at all for fear it wasn’t the right thing. No one seemed to be paying much attention to the responses Jonathan and I had given, and I realized later that the question had been mostly rhetorical. Assembled in that hotel room were the best chess players the University of Illinois had to offer. Of course we were ready.
“Do you want some pizza? We have plenty.”
“Sure,” Jonathan said. “Thanks.”
“Thanks,” I said.
We sat down on the only remaining space on one of the beds to eat our pizza. It was pepperoni and I didn’t like toppings on my pizza, only cheese, but I hid the pepperoni in my napkin and when I was done eating, I balled it up and threw it away.
Eric went over the information for the next day’s tournament play. “So let’s meet downstairs first thing in the morning,” Eric said.
“Sounds good,” Jonathan said. He stood up, so I did, too. “See you tomorrow.”
“We’re going down the hall to meet with some guys from Nebraska. Do you and Annika want to come?”
“Thanks, but we’re gonna take off. I’m really tired.” It wasn’t very late, but maybe the driving had tired Jonathan out.
We walked hand in hand back to our room. It felt so strange to be staying in a hotel room with Jonathan, like we were playing some kind of college version of house. I spent a lot of nights at Jonathan’s apartment at school, but this was different. It was our bed and our dresser. We could take a shower together in our bathroom every morning if we wanted to, and I knew from experience that we would.
“I didn’t know you were so tired. Do you need to go to sleep?” I asked as Jonathan stuck the key card in the door.
“I’m not tired.”
The Girl He Used to Know Page 13