The Girl He Used to Know(19)

Our fellow teammates gathered around us, celebrating their wins and lamenting their losses. We lingered for a while until Eric suggested we leave the hotel and go to dinner at a nearby diner. The team enthusiastically agreed.

“What do you think, Annika?” Jonathan asked. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” I said. It was almost six o’clock by then, and my opponents had probably been able to hear my stomach growling while we played. “I need to use the restroom and then I’ll be ready to go.”

When I was washing my hands, I looked in the mirror. My cheeks were pink and my eyes had a brightness I’d never seen in them before. Maybe this was what it felt like to be happy, I thought. In the hallway, after I left the bathroom but before I walked to where Jonathan was waiting for me, I quickly slipped off my shoes and tucked them into my bag. Janice had convinced me to swap my usual tennis shoes for a pair of her flats, and I hated the way my feet felt inside them. No one would be able to see my bare feet under my long skirt.

He was standing by the door, and he held it open and followed me outside. The late-fall grass had gone mostly dormant and there was a texture to it, a slight crispness that felt incredible under my feet as we cut across the hotel’s lawn on the way to Jonathan’s truck so we could catch up to the others, who’d already begun pulling out of the parking lot. I wanted to sit down on the grass and curl my toes in it. I would never be able to explain how much satisfaction that would give me, or how effective it would be in helping me disperse the stress from the crowded room and a full day of competition.

Jonathan started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. “How is it that you’ve been a member of the chess club for over three years, and no one but Eric and I know how good you are?” he asked. Only seven of us had won all of our brackets, and Jonathan and I were two of them.

“When Eric can’t play with me, I usually go home.”

“Why?”

How could I make him understand that I was mostly invisible to others? Most of my fellow club members had written me off a long time ago as the weird, shy girl, and they would have been right. For most of them, the club provided a social outlet and the chess part was a way to add a pleasurable activity they also enjoyed. It was so much more for me. Concentrating on the game eliminated a lot of the anxious clutter that constantly took up real estate inside my brain. “I don’t know. I just do.”

At the restaurant, Jonathan parked the truck and we went inside to join the others. As we waited in line, I slipped my hands into the pockets of my skirt and swished the fabric back and forth. There was something about the movement that soothed me, and I liked the sound it made.

“Miss, you can’t come in here like that,” a voice said. I didn’t realize it was directed at me until Jonathan said, “Annika, where are your shoes?” It felt like one of those moments when you’re talking too loud because you’re in a noisy place but then the noise stops suddenly and everyone looks to see who’s shouting. Except I wasn’t shouting. I was standing in line at a diner in my bare feet, and everyone was looking down at my hot pink painted toenails. I hadn’t done it intentionally; I’d just forgotten to slip my shoes back on before we got out of the truck.

My face flamed, and I turned toward the door, panicking when I tried to pull it open instead of pushing. It rattled as I shook it and when I finally comprehended how it worked, I burst through it and fled to the parking lot. Jonathan caught up to me as I jerked on the door handle of his truck. “Hold on, it’s locked,” he said. He put in the key and opened the door for me. “Don’t worry about it. Just put on your shoes and we’ll go back in.”

I climbed into the truck and wiped the tears that spilled from my eyes with the back of my hand. Jonathan stood patiently next to the door, waiting.

“I can’t go back in there.”

“Why not?”

“You go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

“Annika, it’s no big deal.”

“Please don’t make me go in,” I cried.

He placed his hands, palm side down, on my legs, and his touch comforted me in a way I’d never felt before. He made me feel protected, as if he’d never let anything bad happen to me. “Stay here. Lock the door, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

He closed the door, and I pushed down on the lock as he walked back into the diner. Through the glass, I watched him talk to the team and then make his way to the counter. He returned to the truck five minutes later carrying a white paper bag.

I reached over and unlocked his door. “I told them you were tired and that the competition really took it out of you so we decided we’d head back. They were totally cool. Wanted me to tell you again how great you did today. I got sandwiches and pie. Do you like pie?”

I no longer had any doubt about the kind of guy Jonathan was.

“I love pie.”

“The sandwich is ham. The pie’s apple.” He handed me a foil-wrapped sandwich and a Styrofoam container of pie, along with a fork and napkin.

It was something that Janice would do, and I wondered if I would always need someone to take care of me. “Thank you.” I was never intentionally impolite, but I often forgot to say thank you, and I would have been so embarrassed if I hadn’t remembered until after he dropped me off at home.

Jonathan unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite. “You don’t strike me as someone who’d have hot pink toenails.”