The Girl He Used to Know (Page 18)

“Are you still going to class?” I asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, because I’d rather keep doing this.”

“Me too!”

Jonathan let out a short laugh, but I wasn’t trying to be funny. He kissed me again and I could study his face because his eyes were closed. His eyelashes were as long as mine, but it was the angles and planes of his face that intrigued me. Such perfect symmetry and balance. I extended the tip of my index finger toward his smooth unblemished skin and lightly traced his cheek. He opened his eyes a little, and I had to go back to looking at his nose. But it was straight and perfectly proportioned so I didn’t mind at all. “I’m tired too,” he said. “Let’s take a nap.”

“Okay,” I whispered. How strange it felt to want to fall asleep next to someone. Normally it would bother me to have someone in my bed, because I had a very specific way I liked to sleep, which didn’t include another person sharing the space. But I wanted Jonathan to stay, and it gave me a special kind of thrill to realize he wanted to fall asleep with me. It seemed even more intimate than the kissing. More grown-up, somehow. Janice often had someone sharing her bed, but this was yet another first for me. I reveled in the sensations washing over me and tried not to dwell on how much I’d miss them if he were to decide I wasn’t worth the trouble.

It would be a real shame if that happened, because Jonathan made me feel comfortable and safe in a way that no one else had ever bothered to, not that many had tried.

17

Jonathan

CHICAGO

AUGUST 2001

Annika looks incredible when she opens the door. My department is celebrating the addition of a new client and, more specifically, the client’s very large investment portfolio. We will spare no expense to welcome them, and tonight’s event includes a cocktail hour followed by a formal sit-down dinner in the party room of a trendy, overpriced restaurant. It’s the kind of event where not having a plus-one would seem out of place. As a star player on the team, I’m expected to look the part at all times, and though no one has ever said it outright, a beautiful woman on my arm is certainly part of the persona. I tried to come up with a good reason why I shouldn’t bring Annika, but I couldn’t.

The burgundy dress she’s wearing stops just above her knees, showing the perfect amount of leg, but the sleeves are long and covered by some kind of lace overlay. It is the ideal attire for a corporate dinner party. Annika has the kind of body that isn’t overtly noticeable. Her breasts never feel like they’re in your face, but they make you wonder what they look like under her clothes. Her legs are only slightly longer than average, but they’re toned. She is the most perfectly proportioned woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing naked, and has the softest skin I’ve ever run my hands across. Tonight, she looks both sexy and conservative, and I look forward to introducing her to my fellow team members. I’d brought two other women to work functions after Liz and I split up. They were attractive, but they were also smart and successful. Unfortunately, I hadn’t felt a spark with either one of them.

I hadn’t felt much of anything at all.

In the cab on the way over, I give Annika the rundown on who I’ll be introducing her to.

“Bradford is my boss. I know someone who went to college with him back when he was just Brad. He’s married to the company but also has an actual wife who I gather spends most of her time raising their children alone. He’s very tall.” Brad seemed to enjoy having conversations where he was standing but his employees were seated and he could tower over them even more. “He works more hours than everyone, and he never passes up the opportunity to let us know it. He also doesn’t understand why this would bother anyone.”

We walk into the restaurant, and I lead Annika toward a pair of open French doors where my teammates are gathering, drinks in hand. Brad is standing alone just inside the room.

I watch as he notices Annika. She’s wearing her hair up, which draws my attention to her neck. I want to kiss it. Actually, I want to suck it the way I used to in that old, lumpy bed in my college apartment. Maybe Brad does, too, because he’s looking at the exposed skin a little longer than he should. It’s subtle, but I’ve seen him do it a hundred times with my coworkers’ wives and girlfriends. Brad knows that no man who reports to him will ever call him on it, which is why he’ll never stop doing it. It bothers me to see him do it to Annika, and because of it my greeting is clipped and my handshake short and perfunctory. If Brad notices, he doesn’t show it.

Let it go, Jon.

“This is Annika,” I say.

“What an exotic name,” Brad says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. Jonathan said you were very tall.” I tense because of the other things I’d said, and sometimes when Annika repeats what I tell her, she doesn’t always apply the appropriate edits. I needn’t have worried, as I watch Brad puff himself up another half inch as he shakes Annika’s hand and holds it a beat longer than necessary. He studies her, checking things off an imaginary list, and smiles when she passes the test. She meets his smile with one of her own, and holds his gaze for a few seconds before smoothly looking away.

I take Annika’s arm and lead her to a group of my peers standing next to the makeshift bar that has been set up in the room. Annika handles the introductions like a champ, repeating each man’s name as she clasps their hands, smiles, exchanges small talk about her occupation.

“What can I get you to drink, miss?” the bartender asks.

For a minute, I expect her to ask if they serve Italian sodas, but Annika smiles and says, “Club soda with lime, please.” It’s not that Annika can’t or won’t drink, but she doesn’t really enjoy the way it makes her feel. Now she can sip on the virgin drink and no one will question it.

When the cocktail hour ends, we make our way to our seats at a table for ten. Several of my coworkers and their significant others join us, and Annika handles the introductions with the same ease she demonstrated with Brad.

There’s a subtle stiffness to her posture, and I’m probably the only one who notices the slight pause she takes before she answers their questions, or how diligently she observes the other women and patterns her behavior after theirs. I also notice that a few of the glances thrown her way by the women are meant to scrutinize. The smiles are just a little too wide and calculating, and the first time I’d ever seen one in a corporate setting, it had been on the face of my ex-wife. My coworkers notice her, too, for reasons that are different from their wives. Annika appears confident, as if she attends these kinds of functions regularly and is no longer impressed by them. It gives her a sophisticated edge even though I know that Annika isn’t impressed by this kind of thing and never will be, and therefore isn’t pretending at all.

“I love your dress,” Jim’s wife says, leaning toward Annika to briefly touch the lace.

“Thank you. The lace is very comfortable on my arms because of the fabric underneath. Otherwise I’d never be able to wear it.” Annika says it very matter-of-factly and takes another sip of her club soda and lime.

“Oh, I know what you mean. I had a lace dress once that didn’t, and it was so uncomfortable. I ended up giving it away.” Jim’s wife, Claudia, who is rather quiet and is routinely cold-shouldered by the other, more boisterous wives, has finally found some common ground, and she studies Annika with quiet reverence. Annika’s cool aloofness, which is entirely unintentional, has afforded her the upper hand slightly, and I don’t think she even realizes it. But even if she did, Annika would never capitalize on it to make herself seem more important. It simply would never occur to her.

“You should try silk,” Annika says. “I have a blouse that feels absolutely wonderful against my skin.”

“I will,” Claudia says. “Thanks for the tip.”

The waiters serve two different wine pairings with the meal, and I’m surprised when I see Annika sipping the white. She only drinks half, but she’s eaten a full meal and it doesn’t seem to have affected her. Everyone at the table has consumed enough that I doubt they’re paying attention anyway.

Brad catches me on my way back from the restroom. “I like her,” he says, as if I should care about his opinion on any aspect of my personal life. I don’t, and I haven’t forgotten what he said to me when I told him Liz and I were splitting.

“Just remember, there’s no need to bring your personal life to work with you,” he told me, despite the fact that in an attempt to avoid going home to my depressing and empty bachelor apartment, I’d been working more hours than I ever had.

Thanks for being sympathetic to my personal, life-changing event, Brad.

You asshole.

“I like her too,” I say to Brad, hating myself for playing the game. “She’s got so many great qualities.”

* * *

“You were wonderful tonight,” I tell Annika as we leave the hotel and walk hand in hand into the warm, late-August night. She smiles and squeezes my hand.

“I’m glad I didn’t mess anything up for you.”