The Girl He Used to Know (Page 6)

“She’d like that,” Janice said.

I had been looking off in the distance and Janice moved into my line of vision so she could look me in the eye, which made me very uncomfortable. “I’ll be back at eight to pick you up. I’ll come right here, to this table, and we’ll walk home together.”

“Okay.” I sat down across from Eric, and the only thing that kept me from bolting in terror was him moving his first piece. Instinct took over as I formulated my strategy, and as we played, I forgot how much I hated college, and how stupid I felt trying to do the things that came naturally to everyone else. I took out all my frustrations on that game, and I played hard. Eric proved to be a worthwhile opponent and by the time I ceded victory to him—but just barely—I felt almost human again. For the first time since I arrived on campus, I did not feel quite so out of place.

“Great game,” Eric said.

“It was,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rob handed me a sheet with some information about the club. “So just come back here next Sunday.”

I took the sheet and nodded, and at eight o’clock on the dot, Janice arrived to walk me back to the dorm. One of my worst days had turned out to be one of my best. For the first time in a long time, strangers had showed me kindness, and I dared to hope that one day, Janice and I might become actual friends. And thanks to the serendipitous discovery of the chess club, I had an outlet, and a reason to stay.

Later that night, when Janice went down the hall to study, I called my parents back and told them not to come.

* * *

My thoughts drifted back to the present when Jonathan and I reached my apartment building. It had been a while since I’d reflected on the events that led me to chess club. If not for Janice and the members of the club, and the kindness they showed me that day, I would not be a senior in college. Though I still had far to go, I’d learned so much about people and life, and that there were very good and very bad things about both.

“Is this where you live?” Jonathan asked as I made my way up the sidewalk toward the front door.

My back was to him, and I didn’t turn around when I responded. “Yes.”

“Okay. Have a good night. I’ll see you next week,” he said.

7

Annika

CHICAGO

AUGUST 2001

“What’s bothering you today, Annika. Can we talk about it?” Tina asks when I arrive for my appointment and we’ve settled into our seats. For the first time since I started therapy, I want to lie and fabricate an excuse for why my hair looks like I combed it with my fingers (because I did), the dark circles under my eyes (not sleeping well), and my unmatched clothes (pink skirt, red T-shirt). But that would honestly take more energy than the embarrassing, humiliating truth, so I spill it, and I spare no detail.

“Jonathan doesn’t want anything to do with me. And that’s exactly what I deserve.”

“I think you’re being incredibly hard on yourself.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t want to see you again?”

“Because,” I say, fully aware that I sound like a petulant teenager yet unable to stifle my frustration because things with Jonathan had not progressed in the way I’d expected. “I thought we could just pick up where we left off.”

“You mean the way he felt when he was waiting for you in New York?”

“Yes. I’m ready now.”

“What about Jonathan? Do you think he’s still ready?”

I barely understood my own thoughts and had no clue about Jonathan’s. “I thought he was until he left me standing on the sidewalk.”

“Do you think he’s punishing you in some way because of the past?”

“Isn’t he?”

“Could there be another reason? Ten years is a long time. I’m sure there have been lots of developments in his life, the way there have been in yours.”

One by one, I pull the Jonathan facts out of my brain where I’ve committed them to memory. “He’s divorced. No kids. I think he works a lot. He lives in an apartment not far from me.”

“Divorce is a major, and often very stressful, life change. Jonathan may have always seemed invincible to you, but he’s human and he feels pain just like anyone else. Could it be that it’s his current situation that’s influencing his decision whether or not to see you again, and not the past?”

Tina and I have spent hours working on the difficulties I have putting myself in other people’s shoes, and after I watched Jonathan walk away, I spent all day trying to figure it out on my own. My frustration grew because for the life of me, I could not put my finger on it no matter how hard I tried. I just assumed he was mad at me for what I’d done. Then I couldn’t relax and therefore couldn’t sleep, and I’ve been at a deficit ever since. Yet in less than fifteen minutes, Tina has effortlessly unraveled it for me, and I finally understand. All these extra steps are exhausting. I remember feeling stunned when Tina explained that most people can draw these conclusions instantaneously, without any extra analysis at all. How amazing but also heartbreaking, because I’ll never be one of them.

“I just … I wanted so badly to have the chance to show him that I’m different now. That I’m not the same girl I was back then.”

“But that’s something you want. He gets to have a say, too.” Tina scribbles something on the legal pad that rests on her lap. “Do you think Jonathan would have wanted you to change?”

“Doesn’t everyone? How could you not want someone to change after they hurt you?”

“Changing how you deal with something is not the same thing as changing who you are as a person. Jonathan isn’t here so I can’t answer for him, but I’ve spoken to a lot of people in my years of providing therapy. The one thing I hear them say the most is that the other person changed. And not one of them has ever said it like it’s a good thing.”

“What do you think I should do?”

Tina shakes her head. “That’s your homework for next time. I want you to tell me.”

8

Annika

THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

1991

Jonathan was walking out of Lincoln Hall when Janice and I passed by on our way to class. He smiled and said hi. I did nothing.

“Who was that?” Janice asked.

“Jonathan. Chess club.”

“The guy you beat?”

“Yes.” I didn’t want to talk about Jonathan. The thought of talking to Janice about any guy stirred up too many unpleasant memories. I could think about Jonathan in my head, but I wasn’t ready to talk about him out loud.

Janice elbowed me. “Is there a reason you didn’t mention how good-looking he was?”

“Are you hungry? Do you want to get some lunch? I’m hungry.”

“Oh, Annika. It’s funny that you think I’m going to let you off so easily.”

“I really wish you would.”

“Not a chance.”

“I can’t do it again. I won’t.”

“Not every guy is bad. A lot of them are very good.”

“Well, we both know I’m not capable of spotting the difference on my own.”

“Don’t worry. This time he’ll have to get past me first.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure he doesn’t think of me like that.”

“Where do you want to eat lunch?”

“Actually, I’m signed up for a shift at the clinic. There’s an opossum with a broken arm I want to check on. Poor thing. He’s so cute. You should see his little splint.”

“Then why did you suggest lunch?”

“I just wanted to change the subject.”

“I’m disappointed in myself. I can’t believe I fell for it.”

* * *

The University of Illinois Wildlife Medical Clinic accepted native wild animals in need of care due to illness and injury, or because they’d been orphaned. The goal was to rehabilitate them and release them back into the wild. Veterinary students made up the bulk of the volunteers, but there were a few—like me—whose undying love for animals, and not our future vocations, had led us to the clinic behind the veterinary medicine building on the south side of campus. I had a tendency to gravitate toward the smaller animals, but I also felt a special affinity for the birds. They were majestic creatures, and there was nothing more satisfying than releasing one and watching it soar off high in the sky.

The small animal I cradled in my gloved hands—the aforementioned opossum, who I’d decided should be called Charlie—had a long road ahead of him, but with the right care and attention, he had a good shot at returning to his natural habitat.

Sue, a senior who’d been volunteering at the clinic almost as long as I had, and whom I felt very comfortable with, walked into the room. “Hey, Annika. Ah, look at that little guy.”

“Isn’t he adorable? I just want to take him home with me. Do you know opossums don’t actually hang by their tails? People always think they do, but they don’t. They have Mickey Mouse–shaped ears and fifty teeth, but they’re not dangerous.” The other day when I was at the library studying I got sidetracked by a book on opossums, and I learned so many fascinating things. It took almost ten minutes to get through them all, but I shared every last one of those facts with Sue because I was certain she’d want to know.