“So...,” Realm starts. “Maybe don’t make any more appointments with Dr. Warren.”
“Yeah, pretty much got that part,” I say. “Who else do you think she’s working with?”
“Couldn’t say,” Realm responds, his eyes trailing a person crossing the parking lot with a few grocery bags. I like how observant Realm is, and I assume he’s been this way the entire time. Has noticed things I haven’t. He might be a good person to have in my corner.
“From what I can tell,” he continues, looking at me, “we’ve got three groups fighting for control: the Adjustment—the latest cure; Dr. Wyatt, the monitor at the school—who claims to have the moral high ground; and The Program—who wants to burn it all down and control what’s left.”
“And which group do you fit into?” I ask.
Realm smiles at me. “The rebels, obviously.”
I laugh and nod along like that’s the right place to be. We fall quiet for a few moments, and I decide that although I don’t know him well enough to fully trust him, I don’t think he’s trying to hurt me either.
“Now that you’re no longer in therapy,” Realm says, “I can try to help. You know”—he smiles—“the whole consultant thing.”
I decide I can tell him all the same stuff I told Dr. Warren, because if heisworking with her, he’ll find out anyway. But I don’t think he is; I think he actually wants to help. He coughs, turning his head away, and when he turns back to me, I start talking.
“I’m in love with Weston Ambrose,” I say. “And today I boldly lied to him. I told him we were never more than friends. I kind of hate it, even though I’m doing it for him.”
Realm seems troubled by the statement. “Why would you do that?” he asks.
“Because I’m trying to be a better person.” I furrow my brow. “Dr. McKee told me that if I told Wes about our past, it might kill him. Do you think that?” I ask. “Do you think the truth could kill Wes?”
“Honestly?” he says in a hushed voice. “No. No, I don’t think the truth will kill him. But I do think it might confuse him. It might change who he’ll become.”
It wasn’t an answer I expected. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, that’s the thing about our past—it shapes our future. And right now, Wes has the luxury of a clean slate. For years, we all wanted our memories back, right? We fought so hard. And for what? Believe me,” Realm continues, “remembering doesn’t always make it easier.”
“Were you in The Program?” I ask, the question suddenly occurring to me.
“Yes. But I...” He pauses like maybe he doesn’t think he should tell me what he’s about to. The struggle plays across his face, until finally, Michael Realm looks at me like he’s known me his whole life. But even then, I can tell he’s holding back.
“I once knew a guy,” he says, his voice drifting off dreamily, “who could never forget anything. He was stuck remembering every word, every place, every emotion. And although that might not seem terrible on the surface, think about how that plays out over time. Think if you had to relive the entire years of The Program scare. Everyone you lost, still right there. Grief is a painful emotion, Tatum, but the gift of it is that it gets better over time. It fades just enough to take the edge off.
“Now imagine if your grief stayed sharp,” he continues. “A razor against a fragile heart.” He rubs his hand absently over the scar on his neck. “Imagine remembering everything. And what a fucking curse that would be.”
“What about you?” I ask. “Would you want to remember?”
Realm lowers his arm to his side, dejected. He takes a moment, and then looks at me and smiles. “I was in The Program,” he says. “I wish I didn’t know that. There are a lot of things I wish I didn’t know.”
He’s devastation, sitting in the front seat of my Jeep. I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone so tortured. So raw. I look past him and see the grocery store has an attached café.
“Do you want to grab a coffee?” I ask suddenly. Realm studies me like he doesn’t trust my offer, but then his expression softens.
“I would love to,” he says.
CHAPTER FIVE
REALM AND I GRAB Atable in the designated café area. There are six tables in this corner of the grocery store, and except for an old man eating a pastry, the place is deserted. Even the barista hangs near the back, where she’s cleaning a machine.
Coffees in hand, Realm and I sit across from each other, half-hidden behind a wood beam. Realm leans forward, elbows on the table, and wraps both hands around his coffee cup.
“So you went to Dr. Warren to get guidance on Wes,” he starts. “Or did you really want her to tell you that you shouldn’t lie to him? That you should get back together with him?”
“I think I wanted validation,” I say, staring down at the lip of my cup, running my finger along it. “I wanted her to acknowledge how difficult it was, and yeah...” I smile. “Maybe part of me hoped she’d tell me it was unnecessary. I don’t want to walk away from him, Realm. I love him. But after seeing how deeply hurt I was in the past, how... damaged, I’m scared to go back there. I’m scared for him to end up there.”
“But you still love him,” Realm says sympathetically, like he’s finishing the thought for me.
