The Girl He Used to Know(41)

On Christmas Eve, after our extended family members had gathered up their gifts, said their good-byes, and gone home, I sat down next to the tree to open Jonathan’s gift. My mom joined me. “I think I’m more excited than you are, Annika.”

I was more curious than excited, because I’d been playing a game with myself where I had to come up with a different guess every night before I went to sleep for what was inside the box. I wrote them all down in an old notebook I found in my room. What if it was full of tiny white seashells from Tahiti? Or forest-green sea glass from the Atlantic Ocean? My favorite guess was that he’d bought me a fossilized flower in burnt-orange amber.

I tore off the wrapping paper, but it was not a fossilized flower in amber, or seashells, or sea glass.

It was a bottle of Dune perfume by Christian Dior, and though Janice squealed when I told her about it later, the brand meant nothing to me, because I would never wear it. Perfume felt like a cloud of poison when it settled on my skin. One day at the mall, when I was twelve, a woman had squirted me with perfume as I walked by with my mother. It had sent me into a tailspin of whimpering tears, and once my mother got me out of the mall and into her car, I ripped off most of my clothing. At home, I threw myself into the shower and didn’t come out for almost forty-five minutes.

“What a pretty bottle,” my mom said. It was light pink with a shiny cap. I ran my fingers over the smooth glass but did not uncap it or spritz a tiny bit into the air to see what it smelled like. “It’s the thought that counts,” she said. “Make sure you tell Jonathan thank you.”

“I will,” I said.

Although the gift was something I would never use, I loved the ribbon he’d used to wrap around the gift, and I spent the rest of the evening absently running my fingers across the curling strands. My mom was right, though. The bottle really was pretty, and the perfume ended up in a special spot on my dresser where it would remain, capped and unused, for the entirety of the winter break.





22


Annika


THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

1991



Jonathan arrived the day after Christmas. My mom spent the morning in the kitchen making a whole new meal even though my dad wanted to know why we couldn’t just eat the leftovers from the day before. It sounded like a logical plan to me, but my mom insisted that it would be wrong to do that even though we could barely get the refrigerator door shut because there was so much food in there already.

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.”