The Girl He Used to Know(30)

“And how did he seem after that?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say anything for a while, I guess. I didn’t mind, though. Sometimes it’s nice to sit quietly with someone.”

“Sometimes it’s important to let the people we care about know that a single incident doesn’t have to define them. He shouldn’t have cheated, I’m not saying that was okay. But it sounds like he made an error in judgment based on his circumstances. It happens. And then we learn from our mistakes and we don’t make them again.”

“I did it all wrong, didn’t I? I said the wrong thing and he’ll probably never want to see me again. Do you think I hurt his feelings?” The thought of that made me want to cry, because Jonathan had always been so careful with mine.

“I think he probably just wanted to be understood. You told him about Jake, which was a very personal thing for you to share. He probably felt like he could tell you something personal too, and he mentioned the cheating because that was a difficult situation for him.”

“How do you know these things? You weren’t even there!”

“I just do. And I’ll help you so that the next time you see him, you’ll say all the right things.”

But would I? Now I’d be constantly worrying about the next dumb thing that might fly out of my mouth. “The thing I don’t understand is why Jonathan would like me? And don’t say it’s because I’m pretty.”

“I think you have a lot of wonderful things to offer people if they’ll just give you a chance. I learned that our freshman year. Others can, too.”

“I like him. I really, really do.”

It was the first time in my life I’d ever felt this way about anyone.





16


Annika


THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

1991



Jonathan had told me on the phone that he’d come by after lunch to walk me to class. He’d called almost every night since our date, and twice we’d gone to lunch together. I’d felt an incredible thrill when he grabbed my hand as we walked to class afterward, because no one had ever done that. Whenever I walked alone on campus, I would stare at the couples walking hand in hand, wondering what it would feel like, and now I knew.

“Annika?” Janice said, knocking on my door. “Jonathan is here.”

My bed was in the corner of the room and I’d been lying on my side facing the wall, because that was my favorite position for reading. I was in the middle of a chapter and didn’t really want to stop. My back was to Jonathan, so I couldn’t see him as he approached the bed, but I knew he was there, because I could smell chlorine.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I’m not going to class.”

“Are you sick?”

“No. But I’m very tired.”

“Did you stay up late studying?”

“I was up late reading. I never finished my assignment.”

“Do you need help?” I could hear Jonathan shuffling through the pile of papers strewn across the bed.

“I knew how do to it, but I didn’t feel like working on it. It’s boring.”

More shuffling of papers. “Is this … is this in Italian?”

“Yes.” I’d spent an hour the night before translating an old essay I’d written last year, the synapses in my brain firing in absolute joy at the task. So much more enjoyable than my unfinished homework.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I don’t know. Save it, probably.” I was still reading my book while I answered his questions.

“Can you turn around so I can see your face?”

“Sure.”

I put down the book and rolled onto my other side. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi!”

I remained lying on my side, so Jonathan stretched out on the bed in the same position, facing me. Looking directly into his eyes—or anyone’s, really—made me uncomfortable, so I stared at his nose. “Do you want to kiss me?” For so long, I’d envied the affection other people seemed to acquire effortlessly. Holding hands and kissing someone felt like finally being able to nibble at a buffet that had delicacies I had yet to fully sample, and I was eager to try every one of them. After years of loneliness and isolation, receiving attention and affection from another person boosted my spirits unbelievably. It was an infinitely preferable way to go about life.

“I wanted to kiss you the minute I walked into your room.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I couldn’t comprehend why he would wait when he clearly wanted to do it. There were probably a whole bunch of rules about kissing I didn’t understand and would have to muddle my way through, and that took a little bit of the joy out of it, replacing it with anxiety, my constant emotional companion.

“Because it might have seemed rude not to at least talk to you for a while first. And I want you to know that I’m not like Jake.”

“I never think you’re like Jake. I like you, and I liked kissing you the other night. As soon as it was over, I wanted to do it again as soon as possible.”

“I liked kissing you, too.”

“I need to tell you something. I wasn’t very understanding about the cheating. Sometimes I don’t say the right things, but you’ve been so nice to me, and I know you’re a good person. Everyone does something at least once in their lives that they regret later. I’m sorry you had to transfer here.”