The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(85)

Angie lowers her head, thinking that over. After a second she turns to me, her eyes slightly narrowed. “But you liked him, didn’t you?” she asks, turning the subject back to Isaac.

“I liked the way he loved your sister.”

She closes her eyes, overcome by the statement, but when she opens them again, she flashes me a watery smile. “They were sickening together,” she says. “So gross.”

We both laugh, and I can only imagine how happy Isaac and Catalina had been once. Before Virginia came into Catalina’s life. “What happened?” I ask. “What changed?”

Angie rests her arms over the steering wheel and leans forward, staring outside once again. “I don’t really know,” she says. “They were inseparable, but then Catalina wanted to be around him less and less. One time Isaac came to me for advice, and when I told Catalina, she got pissed. Called me a traitor. Said she couldn’t trust anyone.”

“Do you think she stopped loving him?” I ask, unable to figure out why she was trying to cut Isaac out of her life.

“No,” Angie says easily. “In fact”—her expression clouds over—“the day she died, she came to my room and gave me a set of pages. Asked me to hide them for her. When I asked her why, she said she couldn’t bear to destroy them. She didn’t want to lose the memories. I ended up stuffing them into her mattress. Stupid place, I know, but what else was I going to do with them. I read the entries and they were basically about how much she loved Isaac.” Angie pauses. “And then . . . those damn spirals. She’d draw them everywhere those last few weeks. Just absently draw them. I asked her once what they meant, and she told me they represented her soul lost in a deep, dark nothing.”

“Did you know that she was going to kill herself?” I ask gently. Angie scrunches up her face like she’s about to cry, but she fights and keeps her composure.

“No,” she says, her voice thick. “But I should have. She was my sister. And I should have.”

She lowers her head, and I reach to put my hand on her arm. I tell her it wasn’t her fault, tell her all the things she needs to hear. I give her closure, even though I wasn’t hired to do so. When we finish talking, Angie wipes the sleeve of her jacket over her lips to wipe away the tears that have settled there. She sniffles hard, and looks over at me.

“You’re not horrible, you know,” she says, her pretty brown eyes rimmed in purplish red skin, raw from crying.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry for being a total bitch to you,” she adds. “It’s just that what you do is sort of . . .”

“Creepy?” I suggest.

“Yeah. But you’re a counselor, too, right?” she asks.

I tip my hand from side to side. “Kind of. I mean, I’ve been trained, but mostly I’m a mimic, a representation of loss. Think of me as an empty vessel for your emotions.”

Angie widens her eyes. “Sounds like the worst job ever.”

“It is sometimes.” I pause. “But it’s not all bad. Like now, here with you. Meeting your family and Isaac.” Now my own emotions threaten to boil over. “It was the best assignment I ever had,” I say, trying to oversimplify it. Before I can embarrass myself, I pat her leg and tell her I have to go. She looks stricken for a moment, but then she nods. Again she surprises me by reaching over to give me a hug.

“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for helping my parents.”

“It was my pleasure,” I say, staring out the window over her shoulder. Wishing I could have stayed a little longer. I move to get out of the car, but then pause and look back at her.

“Angie, have you ever met your sister’s friend Virginia?” I ask.

“No,” she says with the shake of her head. “Catalina mentioned her a few times, but she never came over or anything. Why?”

“Just tying up all the loose ends,” I say. The truth about Virginia is still a mystery—one Angie doesn’t need to be involved in. She has a chance to rebuild with her family now. I won’t leave her with any lingering doubts.

My resolve to find Virginia is strengthened by my want to set things right. Learn her part. I tell Angie good-bye, holding up my hand in a wave, and then I close the door just as the first drops of rain start to fall.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ISAAC MUST HAVE KNOWN SOMETHING was wrong, I think as I drive toward his house, the windshield wipers on my car streaking against the glass. He must have been worried if he went to Angie, upsetting Catalina even more. During this assignment I thought I was learning about Isaac and Catalina’s relationship, but really, I was seeing his idealized version of it. Maybe even my idealized version of it.

Isaac’s house is on the other side of town. I’ve never been inside, but we’ve stopped there a few times so he could grab his baseball gear. When I pull up, his truck is the only vehicle in the driveway. I’m glad his mother isn’t here, because even though I’ve successfully avoided her during my time, the woman terrifies me. I flip up my hood and jog to the door. I freeze there, afraid to knock.

How do I tell him good-bye? How can I give him closure when I’m not even sure he’ll talk to me again? I close my eyes, trying to imagine a way to set him at peace, but all I can see is the way he’d smile when we were together. How happy it made him. How heavy his grief was last night when he told me to get out of his truck.