The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(59)

Isaac licks his lips in that slow way he does before he talks. “You’re beautiful,” he says, sounding a bit lost. I smile at the compliment, but he lowers his eyes like he’s ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m afraid I’m being selfish.”

“What?” I ask. “Why?”

“Because I want this so badly.” He looks up at me again, his expression clouded by his confusion. “And I don’t care if it’s real. I . . . I want to believe. Does that make me awful?”

I shake my head. “No,” I say, hiding my disappointment. “You’re wonderful.”

This time, I’m the person who didn’t want the reminder of our situation. I wanted to be the one to make him forget, to take away his loneliness. To make him happy. But maybe this wasn’t the way. “Isaac,” I say, drawing his attention again, “I’m here for your recovery. Just tell me what you need. If this is too much, then we can—”

“I need you,” he says immediately. “I need her. I don’t want to think or talk about it. I just want it to be true.” His words are desperate, and I wonder if he’s been beating himself up since he saw me this afternoon. Feeling guilty. I press my lips into a smile.

“Then tonight I’m her,” I say, my voice thick with compassion but not pity. Earnest resolve to help him through this. Isaac exhales, putting aside the pain and rational thoughts. We sit in the cab of the truck a little longer, and I gaze out the window at the stars.

“It didn’t rain,” I say, feeling him turn to me. “It hasn’t rained all day, just like they promised.”

I look at him, and he nods, shifting the truck into gear. He leans forward to check the sky through the windshield, and when he turns to me, I think he’s more handsome than I’ve ever seen him. “Looks like it’s going to be a perfect day after all,” he says in that quiet, raspy voice.

By the time we’re down the road, headlights on, we’re both smiling, putting aside the truth in favor of now.

* * *

Cars line the street in front of the house, but there are no people gathered outside or spilling onto the lawn. Instead a blue glow emits from the blinds, silhouettes of people behind it. I tug self-consciously at the wisps of my hair as if I could wrap them around me like a security blanket. I like parties just fine—I’ve never gone to one as someone else, though.

“It’s okay,” Isaac says, looking sideways at me as we get out of the truck. “They don’t know you here. And we won’t stay long. I . . .” He pauses, smiling in that shy way that is all flirtation, even if he doesn’t realize it. “I’m glad you said yes.”

I’m so charmed. “Me too,” I say, falling into step next to him. We cut across the soft lawn and climb the front steps. Isaac rings the doorbell before burying his hands nervously in his pockets.

I look from him to the door, my heart beating quickly. Although he assured me that no one at this party would know that I’m a closer, I worry that they’ll figure it out. My death wasn’t on the news—the story was buried because the family was seeking closure. But there’s still a chance they heard. I don’t want to be verbally attacked.

The door swings open, and I gasp, having been lost in my thoughts. The guy at the door is slightly older, with a thick beard and a checkered sweater. He smiles at me but then reaches out to do a hand slap/side hug with Isaac.

“Glad you made it, man,” he tells him. “Few more months and you’ll be out of here for good. One last hurrah, right?”

Isaac grins, proud that he got into UCLA, even if it hasn’t been his top priority since my death. The guy in the door turns to me, and leans in to kiss my cheek. “You must be Catalina,” he says warmly. I notice Isaac flinch next to me. “Jason,” the guy says, poking himself in the chest. “Your boyfriend and I go way back to summer camp and shit. But I’ve been in Alaska the last few years on a fishing boat.” He looks at Isaac. “But he e-mailed me about you. Total f*cking sap.”

He and Isaac laugh, and I smile along, both saddened and heartened that Isaac took the time to e-mail his old friend about our relationship. I’ve seen Isaac with other people, and although they like him, he doesn’t let them this close. I’m honored that he brought me here. When Isaac looks sideways at me, I smile. It makes him pause—I think the similarity overwhelms him—and he reaches to take my hand. I let him, but my stomach tightens; I wasn’t expecting the physical contact. I don’t let it show.

“All right, let’s get inside,” Jason says. “People are starting to dance, but Romy brought over his videos from Belize. Me and the guys are watching him save the world and shit.” He turns and walks through the door, leaving Isaac and me on the porch. His hand is warm in mine, and he slowly pulls away, his finger gliding against mine, causing a flutter in my chest.

“After you,” he says quietly, motioning me forward. I nod, my hand still tingling, and walk inside the house.

The entryway is dark, but there are more people than I could read from outside. There’s wood paneling on the living room wall, lit up by neon signs of various beer brands, and a large-screen TV with a blue ocean scene and a guy narrating, even though you can barely make out what he’s saying above the music. A girl walking by accidentally bumps my shoulder, and I stumble sideways into Isaac. He catches my elbow, and we pause, wrapped up in each other. I lift my eyes slowly to his, and I think both of us blush, slowly untangling ourselves.