The Remedy (27 page)

“I don’t know,” I say quietly. “But the hope is he’ll be able to move on. That he’ll eventually be happy.”

“He’s happy now,” Nando says. “I wasn’t sure he’d make it through this. So thank you.” I turn to him, but he’s staring straight ahead. The bleachers all belong to us now. “But after you’re gone . . .” Nando looks at me. “Isn’t he going to mourn
you
?”

“No,” I say automatically. But I doubt my own words. In regular role play, families get to say good-bye to their loved ones. They move on without ever seeing me as a person. This assignment has been different. I’m a part of this life now. I can’t even begin to think about saying good-bye to Isaac. Or to my family. I just want to stop thinking.

“His therapy’s going well,” I tell Nando, standing up and slipping my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. Nando rises to his feet next to me.

“I’m glad,” he says, seeming relieved. “And no offense”—he smiles apologetically—“but I can’t wait until you’re gone. You’ve kind of been making everyone around here a little crazy. I just want things to go back to normal.”

I nod like I understand, but his words pierce my armor.
Normal.
That’s not how they see me—I’m distinctly abnormal to most of them. But not to Isaac. Not anymore. I look at the field just as Isaac disappears into the dugout toward the locker room.

“I have to go,” I tell Nando, moving past him toward the bleacher stairs. I take the steps two at a time, trying to disappear from sight as quickly as possible. When I reach the bottom, Nando calls to me from the top step.

“Catalina,” he says. It startles me, and I turn to look at him. He holds up his hand in a wave. “It was nice meeting you,” he says. His eyes glisten with the start of tears, and I can see his grief. He lost a friend; I’m a reminder of that loss. I’m salt in his wound.

“You too,” I tell him. I turn away and walk swiftly toward the parking lot.

*  *  *

Isaac has his duffel bag over his shoulder as he approaches his truck. I’m leaning against the passenger door, and he smiles, looking me up and down. “I gave you that shirt,” he says, nodding to it.

“You did?” I ask, glancing down at it. Isaac drops his bag at his feet and scans my face.

“Yeah,” he says with a slight edge. “Don’t you remember?”

“Uh . . .” I can’t recall reading or seeing anything about this shirt. Truth is, I picked it because it was the most comfortable one I could find in the drawer. “Nope. I forgot,” I say sweetly, stepping in to him and draping my arms over his shoulders. His hair is still wet from the showers, and the smell of soap is thick around him. Isaac doesn’t smile, though. Confusion clouds his face.

“We went to that show,” he explains, talking faster. “You wanted that T-shirt, Catalina. That exact one. You pointed it out on another girl and I bought the fucking shirt straight off her body so that you could have it. I can’t believe you could forget about that.”

I lower my arms and take a step back; dread coils in my stomach. I don’t know how I got this shirt because it didn’t happen to me. He knows this. “Isaac,” I say, keeping my tone steady, “I don’t remember.”

“Yes, you do!” he shouts, making me jump. A couple of people leaving the game look over at the sound of his raised voice.

“Hey!” I snap at Isaac, startled by his frustration. Heat rushes to my face and tears sting my eyes. I understand the unusual circumstances of our relationship, I really do. But I’m not going to stand here in the school parking lot while he yells at me in front of strangers. I won’t let him shatter this illusion.

“I’m going home,” I say, and round the hood of the truck. My mom dropped me off earlier and now I’ll have to call her back for a ride. I need to get out of here. My mind is racing, flipping between my training and the life I’ve been living. The lines have blurred. I need a moment to think, but my heart aches with jealousy and clouds my judgment. I’m sick of competing with a dead girl.

Isaac runs up, stopping a few steps ahead of me and holding out his hands to slow me down. When I pause, he studies my face for a long moment before reaching out to touch my cheek. The touch, the affection, eases the pain in my chest.

“I’m sorry,” he says desperately. His eyes have softened, painting his features in misery at the thought of me leaving him. “I’m just a little off today,” he says, his fingers sliding to the back of my neck as he stares down at me adoringly. I exhale as his thumb strokes over my skin. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, stepping closer.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” I tell him. “You can’t just hurt my feelings whenever you want.”

“I don’t want to,” he says immediately. He wraps his arms around me, and I listen to the fast beating of his heart. “I don’t ever want to hurt you,” Isaac murmurs close to my ear. “You’re the love of my life.”

A shiver runs down my body, and I smile. The idea of him loving me, saying that he loves me, is enough to keep me here—in this present—with him. The rest of me falls away—all of my sense, all of my worry—leaving me completely vulnerable.

We stay wrapped up in each other, and Isaac tells me again how much he loves me. I don’t say it back, content enough with hearing it. And after a while Isaac and I go to his truck to continue our night, gluing the pieces of us back together, ignoring the hairline fractures we can’t quite cover.

ISAAC SUGGESTS WE GO TO
Off Campus to grab a bite to eat. It’s a small café where students go to order fries or smoke cigarettes on the front patio. I spend the drive listening to him recount the game, pitch by pitch, all the way to the final out that snapped their three-game winning streak. When he’s done talking, he intertwines his fingers with mine and pulls my hand to his mouth, where he kisses it sweetly—our earlier fight far from his mind. But not entirely from mine.

A headache has started behind my eyes, a dull thud that keeps me from being completely engaged in our conversation. During dinner, I nod and smile in just the right places, but Isaac’s frustration resonates with me, making the night a bit surreal. I shake it off before we leave, and press my lips into a smile as he puts his arm around me in the parking lot and kisses the top of my head.

On the way home, Isaac gets a call from Jason. I can hear Jason’s booming voice, boisterous and loud, as he asks Isaac to come over for a card game. Isaac hesitates, glancing over at me like he’d rather spend the night just the two of us. I, however, nod emphatically. Hanging out with Jason has been a blast—times that have made me feel completely normal. And I’m craving a moment of that normalcy right now.

Isaac smiles at my excitement and agrees, telling Jason he’s on his way. When he hangs up the phone, I lean in and give Isaac a kiss on the lips, distracting him while he drives. He laughs, trying to keep his eyes on the road as I kiss him again, my hand on his thigh. I’ve missed him, even though he’s been right here.

*  *  *

There are a few cars in front of Jason’s house, and Isaac parks halfway down the street at the curb. The remainder of the light has faded beneath a gray cloud-scattered night sky. We’re reminiscing about the batting cages when Isaac and I climb the porch steps.

Isaac knocks on the front door before opening it partly and calling in our arrival. He pokes his head in and says hey, pushing open the door the rest of the way for me. I’m smiling, comforted by a less crowded version of Jason’s house. There is a round table set up in the living room, three guys sitting around. I recognize at least two of them from the party last week.

“Hey,” I call to Jason, holding up my hand in a wave. There’s only one empty chair at the table, and I glance around at the faces of the other guys. It only takes a second for me to register that something’s wrong. Isaac’s already on his way over to them to slap hands, completely oblivious.

My smile fades quickly. A toilet flushes in another room; my heartbeat booms in my ears. Adrenaline begins to rush through my veins.

Jason hasn’t answered my greeting. His lower jaw is jutted out, his eyes narrowed with disgust. The good-natured teddy bear I spent time with is gone. I glance at the others, finding the same reaction to me.

Isaac’s expression falters when no one immediately acknowledges him. And in that moment, I think we both realize the truth.
They know.
Panic flashes in Isaac’s eyes, and he turns to me just as footsteps echo in the hallway, quickly approaching.

Kyle enters the room and stammers to a stop, stunned that I’m standing in front of her. At first her face flashes an instant of joy at seeing her best friend again. But it twists into grief, and then anger. Hatred.

I turn to Isaac, and he looks up and sees Kyle. He blinks quickly and steps back from the table of guys, shoving his hands nervously in his pockets. “Hey, Kyle,” he says in a quiet, raspy voice.

Kyle stomps past me, banging her shoulder into mine. The force of it knocks me sideways. “Jesus, Isaac,” she says in a worried tone. She goes to pause in front of him, looking him over like she’s trying to determine if he’s been injured. “Are you okay?”

He swallows hard. “Yeah, of course.”

Kyle casts a hateful glare in my direction and then puts her hand on Isaac’s arm. “I’m sorry we had to do it this way,” she says. “But you’re ignoring my calls. Look, I know you’re grieving, believe me I know.” Isaac pulls away from her touch, annoyed at her tone. She reasserts herself, gripping his hands. “That’s not her,” Kyle says, her voice cracking. “You know that’s not Catalina.”

She doesn’t say it like she’s angry. She says it like she misses her best friend. Like she’s worried for Isaac. Behind them, Jason rubs his face as if overcome. Then he bangs his fist on the table, making the glasses rattle.

“I can’t believe you, man,” he says to Isaac. “Why didn’t you tell me? She died! How could you not tell me that your girlfriend died?” He looks over at me, bitterly. “How could you bring one of those things into my house?”

A sickened sound escapes from my throat, a swift pain stealing my breath. I press my lips hard together to keep from crying, but my eyes well up nonetheless.
One of those things.
Jason was my friend. I thought he was my friend.

Isaac moves back from the table, glaring at all of them. But nothing can distract me from the way they hate me. This can’t be happening.

“You’re disgusting,” Jason says to me, tears dripping down his cheeks. “What you’ve done . . .” He holds up his hands like he can’t bear the enormity of my deceit. “He was grieving and you took advantage of that. What are you? What the fuck are you that you could do this to another human being?”

What am I? What am I?
the voice repeats in my head. The headache that started earlier begins to throb, the pressure building behind my eyes.

“Just get out!” Kyle snaps at me, pointing to the door.

I don’t move; I’m not leaving without Isaac. I dart a look at him, but before our eyes can lock, there’s a flurry of movement. Kyle’s across the room and inches from my face.

“Get out of our lives!” she shouts, bits of spit hitting my cheeks. Her expression is wild, angry. All of her grief tightened into a ball of hatred, directed at me. It’s easier if she can blame someone for the loss of her friend. It takes the sharp edges off her ache. She wants me annihilated because maybe if I’m gone, she will stop being reminded of her best friend’s death.

In the moment that I’m lost in my head, I don’t notice her cock back her arm. I register Kyle’s movement at the same time her fist connects with my jaw, sending a vibration through my face and into my head, cracking my carefully constructed reality.

I fall back, off balance, ears ringing. I drop hard onto the wood floor, catching myself to take much of the force with my shoulder. My wrist aches, and I clutch it to my chest with my other hand as I lift my eyes to Kyle’s. She covers her mouth, her knuckles still white from her clenched fist. She looks horrified by her actions.

She hit me,
I think, stunned.
She hates me so much that she hit me.

I’m a pile of rubble on the floor, and when I look at Isaac, the sight of me, pathetic and torn down, makes his face go red with anger. He tries to rush toward me, but Jason jumps up from the table and wraps his large arms around Isaac’s upper body, holding him back.

“Just let her go,” Jason growls into his ear. “You have to let her go, man.”

The room erupts in chaos. I watch, devastated by the scene. Isaac yelling, saying that he needs me. Jason pleading with him to calm down. Kyle’s guilty looks in my direction before she returns to Isaac, begging him to end this. Tonight was an intervention. Isaac’s friends had an intervention to cut the poison out of his life. To cut me out.

Jason lowers his voice, his tight grip turning into a hug. Isaac closes his eyes, listening to whatever Jason is saying. His body starts to shake, going limp. “Stop,” Isaac says, breaking down. “Stop.” Jason turns him around and holds him up. Isaac cries against his shoulder. “Make it stop,” he murmurs.

My tears are warm as they rush down my face, over my aching jaw. Kyle drops into a seat at the table, burying her face in her hands. Isaac’s sobs get louder, racked with pain.

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.