The Girl He Used to Know (Page 24)

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.