The Girl He Used to Know(10)

“It’s so hot out. I was thinking of walking to the union for a lemonade. Why don’t you come with me?”

I didn’t want to. My parents had promised they’d be there in the morning to take me away from this nightmare, and I wanted to dive back under the covers and count down the minutes. But there was a part of my brain that understood what she’d done for me, so I said, “Okay.”

As we walked to the union, Janice pointed out the Wildlife Medical Clinic. “I’ve heard they need volunteers there. You should go talk to them. They probably want people who would be kind to animals.” I nodded but didn’t have the courage to tell her I’d be gone in the morning.

While we were standing in line waiting to order our lemonade, I noticed the chessboards. There were at least fifteen of them sitting on the nearby tables, pieces set up, waiting for play. Students sat in front of them, talking and laughing.

I must have been staring because Janice said, “Do you play?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go check it out.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Come on.”

She handed me my lemonade, and I followed her over to an older student standing next to one of the chessboards. “What is this? My friend plays chess and she’d like to know.”

“This is where the chess club meets,” he said, looking at me. “I’m Rob. We’re here every Sunday from six until eight. What’s your name?”

Janice nudged me, and I said, “Annika.”

He turned to the boy on his right. “This is Eric. He’s new, too. If you stay, we’ll have an even number and everyone can play.”

“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.”