The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(72)

I am no longer his girlfriend. I am a pariah.

I’m shaking, cold from the inside out. My soul has finally worn too thin. I climb up from the floor, moaning softly at the pain in my shoulder and wrist. At the blistering headache that’s left me slightly disoriented. I walk soundlessly to the door and slip outside. I close it behind me, looking at the road, the sky, the grassy lawns.

Numbly, I move down the steps and turn in what I think is probably the direction of my house. I’ll have to call for a ride, I guess. I wince, the pressure in my head almost too much to take. I can’t remember who to call, so I keep walking.

* * *

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” a mother asked me once. I can’t remember which one.

It was a terrible question to ask a ten-year-old. I wasn’t sure if she wanted the actual answer or the answer her daughter would have given. I sat there thinking for so long that my head began to hurt.

What did I want to be? A closer—no, never. I only did that because my father asked me to, told me how good I was at helping people. I didn’t want to be a doctor like him and Marie. I wasn’t sure what else there was.

I looked up at the mother, studying her pretty features, her soft cheeks and pink lips. “I want to be you,” I said. I meant her job, even though I didn’t know what it was. But something about my words made her face cloud over. She straightened, backing away from me. She tried to force a smile, but I saw fear instead. I didn’t understand at the time what I’d done wrong. Eventually I finished that assignment and moved on.

Now I know what she was afraid of. People don’t want to be replaced. They don’t want a stranger to come in and seamlessly take over their lives. Because that would mean they didn’t really matter. What was the point of them ever existing if I could come in and wrap it all up in a few days? I’m a walking nightmare.

The lights of a car behind me illuminate the street, and I hug my arms around myself. I try to fade away so I won’t be noticed. Rain has started to fall, and as the vehicle slows next to me, I realize it’s a truck. I turn quickly just as Isaac pulls to the curb.

I’m frozen with fear, with misery. I don’t want to hurt him, but more than anything, I don’t want him to tell me this meant nothing.

Isaac gets out of the truck and rounds the hood, his face lit up by the headlights. Even from here I can see that his eyes are red and swollen. His face is drawn. My guilt overwhelms me.

“I’m sorry,” I call to him, fresh tears springing to my eyes. Isaac continues toward me, and I flinch back just as he reaches out and wraps his arms around me. I take in a breath, waiting, but he’s holding me. His fingers slide into my wet hair, cradling my head; his lips brush my ear.

My fear starts to dissipate, and I close my eyes. Close out the pounding that’s still behind them. Isaac sways me, rocking me gently, and neither of us says a word as the rain soaks us through. After a few moments he pulls back, wipes the mascara from under my eyes with his thumbs. Checks over where my jaw still hurts. He leans in and kisses my lips.

I see in his eyes that his friends’ words haven’t changed the way he feels. Although that should comfort me, it doesn’t. It only leaves me more confused. Isaac cradles my face in his hands, staring down at me as rain runs over us.

“They can’t see you,” he says. “But I do. You’re right here, Catalina. You never left.”

I open my mouth to talk, but no words come out. My thoughts flash back to Jason’s expression tonight—the disgust. I think about my sister, my parents. I think back to the first day I met Isaac, wearing a prom dress. “This isn’t my life,” I mumble, the cold making my voice shake.

Isaac tightens his jaw and gathers me into a hug. “Yes it is,” he whispers. “Things just got screwed up tonight, but we’ll fix it. Everything will be fine tomorrow. I promise. Now let’s go home, okay?” He pulls back to look down at me, checking me over as if daring me to tell him again this isn’t real.

But I don’t know what’s right anymore. I’m weak and cold, beaten down. I nod and let Isaac help me into his truck, the world hazy around me. When Isaac gets in the driver’s seat, he gives me a worried glance. I must look terrible. I almost flip down the mirror, but I can’t stand the idea of seeing my face.

My body continues to shake, and Isaac blasts the heat. It warms my skin, but I can’t get rid of the cold. I lean my head against the passenger window, my thoughts jumbled. My identity is slipping away—but rather than pull it back, I close my eyes and let it go. It hurts too much to pretend anymore. My head just hurts.

“You’re almost home,” Isaac says, sounding concerned.

“Which home?” I murmur. I don’t think he hears me over the sound of the blowing heater, but soon he’s pulling up to a familiar grand house on a tree-lined street. I stare at it a minute, confused, and feel Isaac’s hand touch mine.

I turn to him, study his features. I feel lost. Isaac takes a deep breath, staring down at the center console, deeply troubled.

“I don’t care what they think, you know?” he says, his voice taking on a tremor. “They want to take you away, but they don’t understand. You won’t leave me again, Catalina. You love me.”

Tears wash down Isaac’s face and I watch him, unable to do anything to make this better. His grief settles over me instead, too much to absorb any longer. I place my palm on his tear-soaked cheek. Isaac lifts his eyes to mine, his emotions stripped down and bare. “Don’t cry,” I whisper.