The Girl He Used to Know(39)

It was the only time in four years that I flaked on one of my shifts.



* * *



“Annika?” Janice said. “Jonathan’s here. I called him. Is it okay if he comes in?”

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. I was lying on my side facing the wall, but I was under the covers, and I’d pulled them partially over my head.

The bed dipped a little, and I knew he’d sat down next to me. I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Hey. Is there anything I can do?”

I wanted to answer him, but I’d shut down and could already feel the pull of sleep and wanted nothing more than for it to take me away. My mom told me that the day she and my dad yanked me out of school midway through seventh grade I slept for almost seventeen hours straight. Sleep was my self-preservation tactic in response to pain. Jonathan said my name again and so did Janice, but I didn’t say anything at all, and sleep took me.



* * *



It was pitch-dark in my room when I woke up, and the clock said five thirty. Desperately thirsty after sleeping all the way through until morning, I walked to the kitchen and filled a glass at the sink after making a quick stop in the bathroom. My stomach growled, and I reached into the cupboard for some crackers. Then I remembered that Charlie had died and the crackers got stuck in my throat when I tried to swallow.

I headed back to my room intending to read until it was time to get ready for class and stopped short as I passed through the living room. Jonathan was asleep on the couch, fully dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and though I had no idea why he was there, I was happy to see him.

I stretched out alongside his body, and he stirred. “You’re still here,” I said.

“I could tell you wanted to be alone, but I wanted to make sure you were okay when you woke up.” He wrapped me sleepily in his arms, and I pressed my face to his chest.

“I don’t like it when tiny living things die. It hurts my heart.”

He stroked my hair. That was another thing I’d discovered about Jonathan. There wasn’t any kind of touch from him that I didn’t like, and it was as calming to me as I hoped mine had been to Charlie. We lay on the couch and he held me as the sun rose and filled the room with light.

“I miss Charlie.”

Jonathan kissed the top of my head. “I know.”





21


Annika


THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

1991



I was from a town called Downers Grove and Jonathan lived in Waukegan, about fifty miles to the north. Jonathan drove us home for winter break the day after we took our last finals. We had celebrated the end of the semester the night before by going out for pizza and beer with Janice and Joe. It had gone better than I thought it would. The pizza place Janice suggested was off campus and catered mostly to families with young children, and I found it to be a huge improvement compared to the noisy, student-filled choices closer to campus. Jonathan and Joe got along really well, which Janice said was likely due to Jonathan’s ability to blend in with just about anyone and also the number of beers Joe drank.

“Come over here,” Jonathan said as he merged onto I-57 to begin the two-hour drive to my house. The pickup truck had a bench seat, and it was just like the movies I’d watched where the guy wanted his girl to scoot over to the middle so he could put his arm around her, which is exactly what Jonathan did after he told me to fasten the center seat belt. I laid my head on his shoulder and every now and then he would give me a little squeeze. I didn’t know why he liked me, what he saw in me that others had not. But I was grateful and happy that he did.

When he pulled into the driveway of my parents’ house, they were standing there bundled up in their coats waiting for us. When I saw them, I clapped my hands together excitedly and jumped from Jonathan’s truck the second he put it in park.

“Annika!” my mom said. She wrapped me in her arms, and I felt the way I always did when she was near: peaceful, secure, safe. Also like I couldn’t breathe because she squeezed me so tight.

My dad and I shared a stiff hug. He wasn’t big on physical affection, but I never doubted his love for me. From the time I was old enough to understand what the word meant, my mom had been telling me how much my dad loved me. He was a systems engineer and when he wasn’t at work, he was either reading or building something for Will or me in the garage. He spent one whole summer building us that tree house in the towering oak in the backyard. Will eventually grew tired of it and ran off to ride bicycles with his neighborhood friends, but my dad and I used to stretch out on the smooth pine floor and read for hours. The two of us were kindred spirits; at least, that’s what people had been saying about us all my life.

“Hello,” my mom said, extending her hand to Jonathan. “I’m Linda.”

I’d completely forgotten Jonathan was there. My dad must not have noticed him either, but when my mom said, “Ron, aren’t you going to say hello to Annika’s friend?” my dad stuck out his hand. “Hello.” He shuffled off into the house after that.

“I hope you can spend some time with us before the two of you have to head back for the tournament,” my mother said. The chess team had earned a spot in the Pan-American Intercollegiate Team Chess Championship, which would be held in downtown Chicago and begin a couple of days after Christmas. The Pan-Am was a six-round fixed roster with teams of four players and two alternates. I would be filling one of the alternate roles, which meant there was a good chance I would not see any playtime, barring something disastrous happening to one of the other four.