The Program

by Suzanne Young

  “Sounds like a terrible plan.”

  “Got a better one?”

  James laughs. “Sloane, I never have a plan. Tell you what, how about you sneak out of your house tonight and meet me on the corner of Barron and Elm. I’ll drive you to your boyfriend’s house.”

  Realm’s not my boyfriend, but I decide not to deny or acknowledge it. I agree to meet James at the corner at six, but I can see the uncertainty in his eyes, as if he’s still trying to figure out who Realm is to me. And I leave him like that, glad to let him wonder about me for once.

  • • •

  The house is set back from the street, hidden down a long gravel driveway behind large trees. As we pull up, the rocks crunch under the tires, and I take in how isolated it looks. A small wood-shingled house surrounded by a forest, a few dead flowers in the beds.

  “You sure you know this guy?” James asks. “This looks like a place where unsuspecting teenagers come to have sex and get murdered.”

  I laugh and look sideways at him. “Don’t embarrass me in front of my friend. Realm’s a good guy.”

  “Was he more than a friend? Not that it’s any of my business.” He lowers his eyes. A sudden rush of guilt spreads over me.

  “No, it’s okay to ask. He, um . . . It was complicated, I guess.”

  James doesn’t say anything but I can feel a heavy silence fill the car. Not sure what else to do, I open the door and get out, waiting for James to follow me up to the house. On the front porch, I’m overwhelmed with nervousness and excitement. I’m about to see Realm again. It’s been over a month. Will he look different? I know I do.

  The door opens just a crack as he peers out, reminding me of how he would do that in The Program when we were sneaking around. My smile spreads, and then the door flies open and Realm steps forward, swinging me into a big hug before I can even get a look at him.

  “Hey, sweetness,” he says, crushing me against him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Realm smells good, not like detergent and soap, but of clean skin. A hint of cologne. I pull back to look at him. His hair is shorter, his complexion less ghostly. It’s then that he notices James leaning against the porch railing.

  “Oh, hi,” Realm says, sounding surprised. He offers his hand and James takes it. “Michael Realm,” Realm says.

  “James Murphy.”

  The smile abruptly falls from Realm’s face, and I see the color that was just there drain away. “Nice to meet you,” he practically whispers, and takes a step back. He shoots a dark look at me.

  “Come in.” He pushes the door open and motions for us to enter. James thanks him, and I can’t help but see the small bit of satisfaction in his expression at Realm’s discomfort.

  We stand around the entry as Realm follows us in and then bolts the door. The house is more like a cabin with exposed wooden beams and a rustic decor. It doesn’t strike me as something Realm would be into, but then I don’t really know what he was like before The Program. Neither does he.

  “So how’ve you been, Sloane?” he asks, checking me over.

  “Weird,” I say. “Everything has been a little weird for me. You?”

  “Oh, I’m just peachy.”

  Realm leads us into the living room, and I sit on the couch while James takes a chair near the fireplace. Realm collapses next to me, wrapping me in a hug once again. “God, I’ve missed you,” he says. “And I like the hair.”

  “You said not to change it.”

  “Well, I was wrong. You look great. Healthy, too.” He glances at James, who is pretending to be fascinated by a painting of eagles on the wall. “So,” Realm says, dropping his arms in front of him and settling into the cushions. “How do you two know each other?”

  “We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re really asking,” James says evenly.

  Realm smiles. “I’m not asking that.”

  James nods. “Fair enough.”

  There’s a small sting to my self-esteem as James quickly dismisses our relationship, but I ignore it and touch Realm’s arm to draw his attention. “We’re here because I need your help,” I say.

  “I’d do anything for you.”

  At that second, an odd sensation comes over me and I pause, trying to place it. It’s not romantic, almost cautious . . . But it’s gone before I can finish the thought. Like an emotional déjà vu.

  I reach into my back pocket and take out the picture, giving it to Realm. When he sees it he sucks in a harsh breath. “Where did you get this?” he asks immediately.

  “I found it. It was strange. I was home, and then all of a sudden I had this flash of a memory, a memory from before. I saw myself putting this picture into a slit in my mattress. That’s my brother,” I say, pointing to Brady’s face. “And that’s him.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder and hear James chuckle.

  Realm’s jaw is tightly clenched, and he hands me back the photo. “And what are you asking me?” His voice is cold.

  “I don’t remember her brother,” James interrupts. “I want to know how to get my memories back.”

  Realm eyes him. “You can’t.”

  “I don’t believe you,” James says, as if sensing something in Realm’s voice. James had said that he didn’t think we could get our memories back, but he must have changed his mind.

  “Realm,” I say, trying to diffuse the tension building between him and James. “You told me in The Program that if I needed you, you’d help me. What did you mean? How did I have that memory?”

  Realm intertwines his fingers with mine as he stares down at them, his hand cool. “Remember Roger?”

  My stomach twists at the name. Although it’s foggy, I do remember the creepy handler. “Yeah.”

  “The purple pill?”

  I pause. There’s the hint of a memory, an overpowering taste of peppermint. I shiver, my thoughts jumbled as if they’ve been manipulated somehow. But there had been a pill, and I took it. “He said I could save a memory,” I murmur.

  “Wait,” James speaks up. “You got to save a memory? How did that work?”

  “Later,” I tell him. He scoffs, looking like he’s about to walk out.

  “I told you then, Sloane.” Realm takes his hand from mine. “The memory would show up out of context, confusing you more. You shouldn’t have taken it.”

  “Well, I did. Now how do I get more?”

  Realm’s brown eyes look at me sadly. “You really can’t. The memories are gone. Permanently.”

  “But I want to know who I was,” I say. “I want to know what happened to Brady. What happened to me.”

  “You should just move on. Start over. It’s the best—”

  “What is your deal?” James calls out. “Do you work for The Program or something? Who would tell someone to forget their past? We want to know, shithead. I want to know how I knew her brother.”

  Realm shakes his head but doesn’t lose his cool. Instead he gets up and walks to the fridge to grab a beer. He doesn’t offer us one. After a long sip, he stares at James. “You’re kind of a dick,” Realms says.

  James shrugs. “Tell me something I don’t know. And besides, you’re really not all that different from us, are you? You’ve got a real pretty scar on your neck. Do you remember how you got it?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Wouldn’t you want to know so that you don’t make the same mistakes again?”

  Realm laughs, sounding bitter. “That’s the great thing, James Murphy. Some mistakes are destined to repeat themselves.” He looks at me then, and then takes another long sip of beer. “Right, Sloane?”

  I’m completely thrown off by Realm’s behavior. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say. “I’m here to find out about my brother, about my past. And I don’t know why you’re acting like this. You sent Kevin to watch over me. You offered to help.”

  “To help you move on,” he says softly, his eyes weak. “Not . . . this.”

  “Ah,” James says from the fireplace.
“Now it makes sense. Sloane, let’s go. He’s not interested in helping. He just wanted to get in your pants.”

  “Why don’t you just leave?” Realm snaps. “I don’t recall inviting you.”

  James grins. “Maybe you did and don’t remember.”

  Realm seems to tire of the back and forth with James, and finishes his beer before leaning against the counter and rubbing hard at his face. I can see that something is tearing him up. Something beyond James and me.

  “You know, don’t you?” I say, suddenly sure. I cross the room to stop in front of him. “You know something about my past.”

  He grabs another beer out of the fridge, starting in on it before leveling his stare on mine. “Maybe. But I wish I didn’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Dude,” James says likes he’s ready to fight. “I swear—”

  Realm reaches out then, running his fingers lovingly through my hair. His look is far away, and I’m suddenly embarrassed, like we’re sharing an intimate moment. Realm and I were never together. Not like that. But the familiarity of his movement shuts James up.

  “You talked in The Program,” Realm says. “We would talk about our lives sometimes when we were in bed.”

  It’s like a slap in the face, the way Realm makes it sound like there was something going on between us. The coldness with which he says it.

  “And you said I’m a dick?” James asks, laughing. “Not really an appropriate topic for company, do you think, Michael?”

  “It’s Realm.”

  “Yeah, well. I’ll call you what I want. And I think you should apologize because Sloane doesn’t strike me as the kiss-and-tell type.” He straightens. “Or maybe I should just beat your ass right now.”

  “No,” I say, swallowing hard. “I don’t want any fighting.” I look at James. “It’s fine. I promise it’s fine.”

  James nods and sits back down, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I didn’t mean that,” Realm says. “And we weren’t sleeping together,” he tosses to James, although it’s obvious that he doesn’t want to clear that part up. “We were . . . just friends.”

  “Who share a bed,” James mutters. “I’m sure.”

  “Realm,” I say, ignoring James’s comment. “What did I tell you? And how do you remember? I don’t recall anything personal about anybody.”

  Realm leans against the counter and drains at least half of his beer as I wait. “You have to understand something, sweetness. Your head”—he taps lightly at my temple—“is a very delicate place right now. The pieces were fit back together like fine china. One crack, like that picture, can shatter the whole thing. I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t. If we just give it some time . . .”

  I lean into him, putting my hands on his chest as I stare up at him. “Please.”

  Realm looks defeated, and finally nods. “Your brother didn’t die in a rafting accident, Sloane. That was something The Program made up. Brady killed himself. And you—both you and his best friend, James—were there when he did.”

  I gasp, Brady’s image filling my mind. “No,” I say, staggering back. “My brother didn’t . . . My parents said it was an accident. Why would they lie? Why would . . . ?” I feel like I might hyperventilate, and then there’s an arm over my shoulder. James walks me to the couch, helping me sit down. “No,” I say again.

  The room is quiet for a while as I try to gather myself. I search my memory, looking for anything about Brady that could have led to this. But all I can see is my brother happy and smiling. What could have happened to him?

  James uses his thumbs to swipe under my eyes. “It’s going to be okay, Sloane,” he says firmly. And the way he says it, so absolute, fills me with a sort of security. I turn back to Realm.

  “You shouldn’t have kept that from me,” I tell him, feeling betrayed.

  Realm sets his empty bottle on the counter, looking at the fridge like he means to get another. “This can make you sick again. I’m risking your life telling you this and . . . God. What am I doing? It’s too soon. Please, Sloane, this doesn’t change anything. You have to move on. You’re safe. I need you to be safe.”

  I feel James tense next to me.

  “What else?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. “What else do you know, Realm? You have to tell me.”

  Realm stares at me, his face pained. And then he shakes his head. “That’s all I have. I’m sorry.”

  “Realm—”

  “I think you should go now.” He pushes away from the counter and strides over to the door. He unlocks it and pulls it open, not looking back at us.

  “What?” I say. “No, you—”

  “Sloane.” His tone is final as he glances at me. “I want you to leave.”

  “This is bullshit,” James says, getting up. He takes my hand. I watch Realm’s eyes flash as James holds my fingers in his, but he looks away.

  Knowing I can’t leave like this, I pull my hand from James’s. “I’ll meet you outside in a sec,” I say. James narrows his blue gaze on mine, a look so full of suspicion that I almost step away from it. Then he nods and leaves, shoulder-bumping Realm on the way.

  Realm laughs bitterly. “Lovely meeting you, Mr. Murphy.”

  When we’re alone, I walk over to Realm. He stares at me, his jaw set in a challenge, but his eyes are almost desperate. And suddenly, I hug him. He chokes out what sounds like a cry as he holds me tight to him.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. “I’ve tried to keep you safe, Sloane. And then I’m the one who hurt you. I shouldn’t have told you about Brady.”

  I pull back. “I want to know all of it,” I say. “You have to tell me everything. I don’t understand why my brother would kill himself.” The tears threaten to come again, and Realm puts his palm on my cheek.

  “He was just sick. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Then why did they take the memory?”

  Realm closes his eyes. “I can’t talk about this right now, sweetness. I’ve messed up huge. I need . . . I need to think. You shouldn’t have found that picture.”

  “Yes,” I tell him. “I should have.”

  “I want you to be happy,” he says. “I swear it’s all I want.” He throws a cautious glance toward the car where James has his head against the steering wheel as if he’s tired of waiting. Realm exhales. “You should go for now, okay?” Then he leans forward and kisses my cheek, pausing there for a long moment.

  “What if I don’t want to go?” I ask, hoping he’ll tell me more about my brother, my past.

  Realm seems to consider my question. “There are so many things you can’t understand right now,” he says. “But I need you to know that all I’ve ever wanted was for you to get better. Do you believe that?”

  I nod. “I do.”

  “I just . . . I love you,” he whispers, not able to look at me.

  “I know.” And I don’t have anything else to say back. Right now I’m completely grief-stricken, feeling like I’ve just lost Brady, even though he’s been gone for years. But here’s Realm, so ready to love me. Take care of me. Fill up the empty spaces in my heart.

  I get on my tiptoes and press my lips firmly to his. Realm responds immediately, surprising me by backing me against the wall, his tongue eagerly finding mine as if he’s been waiting to do this since I got here.

  My heart pounds, but the emotion is guilt, as if I’m being completely unfair. To him. To myself. I turn away then, breaking the kiss to hug him instead. Realm lets out a soft laugh, clinging to me tightly.

  “You don’t love me back,” he says.

  “Not like that. But maybe—”

  “Maybe someday?” he finishes for me. Realm looks tired. Maybe a little buzzed. “You should go,” he says again, and walks me onto the porch, keeping his eyes trained on the floorboards there. Then, without another word, he goes back into the house and bolts his door shut.

  I stand there, still stunned by the revelation about my brother. I look at the car, a
nd James is watching me. He nods his chin as if asking if I’m okay, but I don’t respond. I’m not okay.

  I’m so not okay.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WE’RE HALFWAY BACK TO TOWN, PASSING DARKENED fields, when James looks sideways at me. “That was some kiss,” he says.

  A blush rises on my cheeks. “I was saying good-bye.”

  “With your tongue.”

  “What do you care?” I ask, ashamed that he saw, even though I’m not entirely sure why. “You couldn’t even stand to hug me in my room that day.”

  “I took that hug like a trooper,” he says with a smirk. “And I don’t care who you make out with. I just think he’s hiding something, so I’m surprised you’d be so naive. Thought you were smarter than that.”

  “And I thought you weren’t going to be obnoxious.”

  “Never said I wouldn’t be obnoxious,” James says. “I try not to make promises I can’t keep.”

  We’re silent for a few miles, and I start thinking again about my brother. Brady had an accident—that’s what my mother told me. She said he’d been rafting, but she never said I was there. She never said he killed himself.

  I sniffle, and it’s then that I realize I’m crying. “Hey,” James says softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be—”

  “It’s not you,” I say, waving off his concern. James glides the car to the side of the road and parks. “I’m thinking about my brother,” I tell him. “I don’t remember him dying. But we were there, James. Me and you. What if we helped him kill himself ?”

  “Maybe we did.” His voice is empty. Sad. He looks away, as if he’s searching his own memories. When he lowers his head, I know he’s found nothing. We have nothing.

  “What if he said good-bye?” I whisper. “What if he said good-bye and I don’t remember it?” Something inside of me breaks then, and I start to sob, picturing Brady’s smile, hearing his laugh. We were so close. How long had he been sick? And how could I not have noticed?

  James puts his hand on my shoulder, and I lean into him. He’s stiff at first but then rearranges himself in the seat to let me rest against his chest.