9

THEN

Maxie's eyes shot open. She inhaled sharply, glanced at her clock. Five AM. Her stomach wrenched. She jumped off the couch and darted for her room, barely making it to her bathroom before she was choking on her own vomit. Goddamn wine, she thought as she hovered over the toilet. Sharp pain shot through her ribs with every heave.

She was hot, her stomach ached, her throat burned, her head throbbed. She groaned and lay down against the cool tile, weak and exhausted. Her stomach settled a bit, but her legs felt like elastic, and she didn't have nearly enough energy to move. Folding herself into a ball, she fell back to sleep right there on the bathroom floor.

 

She woke slowly, with much difficulty. She felt as if someone were bouncing a tennis ball off the walls of her skull. When she opened her eyes, the morning sun pouring in from the small bathroom window made her cringe and grab for the floor mat to cover her face. For a while, Maxie lay there, still nauseous, still aching, still without energy.

Is this what everyone else did on their twenty-first birthday? She could have lived a hundred more years without ever experiencing it. She moaned, pulled herself into a sitting position, and moaned again. She felt as if the floor were spinning under her. Shutting her eyes tight, she placed her hands over her temples to slow the frantic movement of her brain. Then she leaned over the toilet and vomited until there was nothing left but bile, and then she dry heaved until she thought she would choke to death—just keel over, right there on her bathroom floor.

The loud bang of knocking on the door made her groan and grab her head. "Max?" Van called. She knocked again. "Are you in there?" Before Maxie could reply, the door opened. "What are you...?" Van looked from Maxie, to the toilet, and back at Maxie. "Are you sick?" she cried, rushing to her side. Maxie nodded and lowered herself back down to the floor. Van gathered her friend into her lap and pushed damp strands of hair off of her face. "What's wrong? Did you eat something bad?"

"No, I drank too much," Maxie admitted.

Van jerked Maxie's head back to look at her face. "You drank too much?"

Before Maxie could reply, Isaac appeared in the doorway. Maxie opened her eyes just in time to see his face pale. "Shit, Max."

"She was drinking last night! Who were you drinking with?"

She opened her mouth to reply but shut it again. She couldn't very well just tell Van who she drank wine with. The kick of guilt that somehow overpowered her nausea made her grimace. And then the nausea struck back and Maxie jumped up to heave. Isaac watched, brows furrowed, mouth drawn down. If she weren't in so much pain, she might have been embarrassed.

"Gross," Van said, holding her hair and rubbing her back. After a few minutes, Maxie stopped throwing up and lay back down. "What did you drink, Max?"

"Red wine," Isaac replied, and when Van raised an eyebrow that said how do you know? he quickly added, "it looks like."

"You should lie down in bed," Van suggested, rubbing Maxie's cheek.

"I can't move."

"C'mon. I'll get you some breakfast."

"I can't eat."

With a sigh, Van said, "Well, I have a shoot in a couple hours, so I need to start getting ready. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Maxie replied, though she wasn't so sure.

"Okay. I'm getting in the shower. Isaac's here, though, if you need anything." Maxie glanced up at him. He looked as if he were in as much pain as her. "He's taking me to my shoot," Van said. Had she asked?

Without replying, she shut her eyes again. Van stood, patting her friend gently on the shoulder. "Feel better. I'll bring you home some soup or something. And a sports drink, for your electrolytes."

A moment later, she was gone and Maxie and Isaac were alone. "Ugh," Maxie said, pulling the floor mat back over her head. "Don't look at me."

He kneeled down beside her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "You told me you're not a drinker. I shouldn't have let you finish off the bottle like that."

"It was my fault," she said.

"Do you remember anything?"

Lowering the mat, she looked at him. "I remember everything."

His eyes softened and the corners of his lips curled up into a small smile. With no effort at all, he scooped her up into his arms. The sudden movement made her stomach turn, but the sensation of so much of his body against so much of hers quickly comforted her. With a small sigh, she rested her head against his chest. "Why wouldn't I look at you?" he whispered to her. "You look pretty."

"Ugh."

He carried her to her bed and set her down gently. "There's a garbage can here," he said, pulling the blankets over her. "And I'll bring you water, too. When you're feeling well enough to walk around, eat, okay?" She gazed up at him as he cared for her, studied the movement of his lips as his spoke. She wanted to look at him all day. He gazed back at her. His eyes flickered over her face, he pulled a strand of her hair forward. "Okay?"

"I couldn't tell her," she whispered.

His brows furrowed. "Tell who what?"

"Van asked me who I drank with last night."

He lowered his eyes. "We were just having dinner. Harmless," he said.

"Well, then, I think we should tell her."

With a shrug, he straightened so that he towered over her. "Fine. I'll go tell her now." He pivoted and started toward the door.

"Isaac, wait!"

"What is it you want me to tell her exactly? That we had dinner and wine last night?"

"Isaac—"

"Or that we had dinner and wine last night and dinner the night before that? And what about everything else? I think I should tell her everything else, too."

"What else is there?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't matter. I'm not telling her anything."

 

NOW

Van stood on the coffee table by the large window of the apartment, hanging streamers. Streamers lined the whole room, balloons practically covered the ceiling. A large banner hung just above the kitchen entrance that read, Welcome Home Isaac! Van had it specially made.

Bea was there, too. She'd been recruited to apply her artistic talents to the decoration process and sat at the kitchen table working on a scrapbook for Isaac. Van gathered a collection of photographs, letters, old movie tickets, and mementos, anything that would jog his memory, and assigned Bea the task of putting it all together. Van wanted everything to be perfect, as she'd reminded the girls over and over. She wanted Isaac to love it.

Maxie knew that that no matter how perfect the decorations were, he wasn't going to love it.

He hated crowds, he hated parties, he hated being the center of attention. A surprise party? Hours of socializing with people he didn't even know anymore, or barely knew, or barely spoke to? She knew it wasn't his idea of a good time. She only wondered how Van didn't know it wasn't his idea of a good time. She tried to tell Van, to gently suggest that maybe a surprise party first thing out of the hospital wasn't the best idea. But her friend was intent on it, and so it was.

"How does it look so far?" Van asked, coming down off of the table. She admired her work proudly. "You think he'll like it? Maxie?"

"I'm sure he will, Van," she said, uncommitted. She was on kitchen duty, preparing the feast for the following night.

"How's the food coming along?"

"Fine, Van."

"And the scrapbook?"

"Fine, Van."

"Good, good. I just want everything to be perfect," she said for the umpteenth time. "You know, he still doesn't know if he's going to move in. This could be the deciding factor."

Maxie hoped it would be the deciding factor. She still wasn't sure if she wanted him to move in.

"I don't even know why he's still debating over it. It just makes sense," Van said.

"Maybe because he doesn't know you anymore," Bea said, not looking up from the scrapbook.

Van glared at her. "He does know me. Believe it or not, I think we're even closer now than we were the first time around. This just proves how strong our love is. He can't remember it, but he can feel it."

Bea scoffed. Maxie tried not to sigh miserably. If only that were true. If only he could feel it.

"You know, Max, I was thinking," Van said, plopping down at the table across from Bea. "You and Isaac have always been pretty close. Maybe you can get through to him. You know, connect with him the way I can't. Like a friend, not a girlfriend."

Maxie wanted to scream. She wanted to close her eyes, open her mouth, throw back her head, and scream until her throat was raw. But instead, she replied calmly. "Yeah. I'll try."

"He always listens to you."

"Does he?"

"You can just back up what I said. Tell him it'll be good for him to be around people who have been here for him. Tell him he'll never have to worry about us taking advantage of his memory loss. Remind him that he practically lives here anyway. I mean, how often did he really sleep at his own apartment?"

"Don't know."

She finally turned away from the sink to face her friends. Bea looked up at her with silent pity. Van wasn't even paying attention.

 

The doorbell rang just as Maxie settled down on the couch beside Bea. Food preparations were done. Decorations were up. The scrapbook was complete. And the girls were exhausted. None of them even moved to get the door until the bell sounded again. With a sigh, Van stood. "Fine. I'll get it. Who is it?" she called.

"Daniel Gnar," the voice behind the door replied.

Maxie's eyes widened and she glanced at Bea, who was looking back at her. Gnar? she mouthed.

"Oh!" Van cried, rushing to the door. "I forgot he was coming."

Bea's eyes bulged when Van pulled the door open and Gnar appeared. He looked incredibly handsome, dressed in stripes and a cardigan. He grinned lightly at Van, and then his eyes went to Maxie and his grin swelled into a full smile.

"His teeth are perfect," Bea whispered. Maxie nudged her.

"Thanks for coming," Van said, stepping aside so he could enter. Gnar wasn't as tall as Isaac, but he was just about as muscular, nearly as striking, and equally dazzling. Those two must have been a sight to see, walking down the street together, both so big and strong and intimidating and gorgeous.

"No, problem," he said, tearing his eyes away from Maxie for but a moment. "Here, I brought everything I could think of. There isn't much."

"Great, I'm sure this'll be fine," Van said, peering inside the bag. She turned to Bea and Maxie. "Stuff for the scrapbook," she said.

"I also let everyone I could think of know about the party, like you asked. And I told them all to bring something that could possibly jog his memory, if they have anything."

Van smiled widely. "Thank you, Gnar. You've been such a big help. I'm so excited. I think he'll love this." Gnar smiled tightly, clearly thinking the same thing Maxie had been thinking: He's going to hate it. "Are you still going to pick him up from the hospital tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Great. I told everyone to get here at six, which means they won't start showing up until around seven, so how about getting him here around eight? Is that good? Can you stall him that long?"

Gnar nodded. "Anything you need."

"Thank you," she repeated, clasping her hands together at her chest. "Seriously, you have no idea what this means to me."

"No problem," he replied. "Just let me know if you need anything else."

"Are you hungry? Do you want to stay for dinner? Maxie, you're going to cook, right?"

"Actually I wasn't—"

"You can stay for dinner, if you'd like," Van went on.

Maxie rolled her eyes, and Gnar smiled. "No, thanks. I should get going. You girls should get some sleep, anyway. You have a long day ahead." He turned to leave and then turned back to Maxie. "Hey, Maxie, you're going to be here tomorrow night, right?"

"Yes," she replied.

Nodding, he said, "Good. See you then."

When he left, both Bea and Van turned to Maxie. "What was that?" Van demanded.

"He was flirting with you," Bea cried.

She stood. "They all flirt with me," she joked.

"No. He was interested. He was looking at you the entire time I was speaking to him," said Van.

"Yeah, and...? So what if he's interested. I'm not interested."

"Why not?" Van probed, following her to the kitchen. "Max, he's gorgeous. And he seems like a nice enough guy. I mean, I can even check with Isaac if you want—"

"No!" Maxie snapped sharply. "I just broke up with Alex a month ago, Van."

"Yeah. Out with the old, in with the new."

"You can date him," Maxie snapped.

Shaking her head, Van started toward her bedroom. "Suit yourself. Bea can date him."

When she was gone, Bea looked at Maxie. "She's right, you know. You could date him."

"Isaac's best friend?"

Bea shrugged.

Maxie was on her hands and knees, reaching for the small wooden box hidden under her bed when her bedroom door opened. She jumped in surprised, banging her head violently against the nightstand beside her. "Ow!" she cried, grabbing her head where she'd hit it.

"Ooh! I'm so sorry," Bea said, rushing to her. "Are you alright? Shit, that looked like it hurt."

"I'm fine," she said, massaging her scalp. "Just close my door, please."

Bea obliged, and came back to sit near Maxie who opened the wooden box. Inside sat a small bag full of marijuana, a pack of rolling paper, and a carton of cigarettes. "Wow," Bea said. "You're fully stocked."

"Care to join me?" Maxie asked, holding up a joint she'd rolled earlier that day.

"I'd love to, really," she said. "But Van put me on camera duty. She wants me to go around and record everyone telling Isaac their last happy memory with him. I don't know how I got suckered into playing hostess."

Maxie scoffed. "Because I didn't, for once." She nodded toward her door. "How many people are out there, anyway?"

"Twenty," she replied. "Maybe more."

Shaking her head, Maxie said, "This is a joke."

Obnoxious knocks on her door made her jump. "Bea!" Van called from the other side. "He's on his way up! Come out with the camera!"

Rolling her eyes, Bea stood. Maxie gave her a once over. She'd always thought Bea looked as much like a model as Van. Despite her tattoos, she was just as tall and toned and beautiful as any girl in any magazine Maxie had every come across. With her green eyes and striking red hair, maybe she was even more so. "You look great, Bea," she said.

"You think so? Maybe I'll snag myself a Gnar tonight."

"Bea!" Van yelled again.

With a sigh, Bea asked, "Ready to get this over with?"

Chuckling, Maxie stood and followed her out. The lights were off and everyone was quiet. While Bea went to stand by the front door, Maxie remained in the back corner, out of the way but with a perfect view. As much as she'd been dreading the stupid party, she couldn't wait to see Isaac's face again. She couldn't wait to see him outside of that hospital bed, dressed in his own clothes, walking around, socializing again.

Maybe he would like the party. Maybe he would appreciate all the people who showed up for him, even if he didn't know them. Maybe Maxie was wrong, and maybe the party would turn out to be a good thing for him.

She heard Gnar's voice outside the door, and then Isaac's laughter. She shuddered with warmth, bit down on her bottom lip, and held her breath as the door opened and Isaac entered behind Gnar. Van flipped on the lights and Gnar stepped aside as everyone in the room yelled, "Surprise!"

Isaac jumped back, wide-eyed, and looked about the room, aghast. When realization struck him, his features softened and he shot a subtle glare at Gnar, who smirked and shrugged. Van came through the crowd and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him square on the mouth. Isaac didn't even close his eyes, he didn't even put his hands on her. He still looked around at the crowd before him in shock and confusion.

"Welcome home, babe," Van said, lacing her arm through his and pulling him further into the room.

Isaac hovered close to Van as Bea approached, toting the camera. He forced an awkward smile and nodded at it before looking away uncomfortably. His guests greeted him from every direction, and he clung to Van, the safest thing around him, as they made their way through the room.

Not that Van had much of a problem with it. She loved every second of the attention, every second of Isaac's arms tightly around her, every second of hugs, and kisses, and compliments. Maxie could barely stand it. Shaking her head, she turned to go to her room but ran into another body instead.

"Oh!" Gnar cried, quickly reaching out to steady her as his solid body knocked her back. "Pardon me."

"Sorry," she said, straightening herself.

Gnar stepped back to look at her. He bit down on his bottom lip as his eyes feasted upon her. "You look stunning," he said evenly.

She ran her fingers through her hair, which lay pin straight over her shoulders, and looked down at her dress. It fit her loose and short, making her tone legs look long and flawless down to her T-strap pumps.

Before he could utter a reply, Van and Isaac reached them. Van threw her arms around Maxie and pulled her close. "He's finally home!" she gushed into her hair. "Thank, God. We can start putting all of this behind us."

Can we? Maxie wondered.

Pulling away, Van went to Gnar next, leaving Isaac next to Maxie. Her heart jumped, she sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly she felt woozy. Having him so close again, so close she could smell him—he no longer smelled like hospital, but like himself, of soap and cologne and fresh laundry and mint gum—and reach out and touch him. His eyes brightened as he looked down at her, and before she could even prepare herself, he took her in his arms and pulled her against him.

She nearly crumbled. She couldn't concentrate, submerged in the smell of him, the feel of him, the warmth of him. She thought she would melt in his arms. Melt into him. "You look beautiful," he said.

"Thank you," she choked out.

"Come on, babe," Van said, tugging at the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He let go of Maxie and grabbed Van again, clung to her again, and they continued to move throughout the room.

Bea appeared next, holding the camera. "Okay, tell Isaac the last good memory you guys have of him," she said. Maxie and Gnar exchanged glances.

"Isaac remembers everything that counts," Gnar said.

Maxie averted her eyes. More like Isaac didn't remember what counted.

"What about you, Max? Give us a fond memory."

A fond memory? Just one? She sighed and thought back to just months prior. The two had lain in his living room, his back flat against the floor, Maxie's back flat against his chest. Her arms were outstretched at her sides, Isaac's fingers trailed up and down them.

'I hope our kids have skin like yours,' he says.

Her eyes shoot open. Suddenly, she doesn't feel as sleepy.

'Our kids?'

'Mm hmm,' he says. 'You want kids, don't you?'

Warmth overcomes her and for a moment she simply smiles into the darkness. Finally, she replies, 'Of course I do.'

'How many?' he asks.

She thinks a moment and answers, 'Two? Maybe three?'

He kisses the crown of her head. 'I want five.'

'Five?'

'Yeah,' he says. 'I'm an only child. It got lonely growing up. You understand. You grew up an only child.'

She nods. 'Yeah. It did get lonely.'

'It still does,' he goes on. 'After Jenny's gone, I'll have no blood relatives left at all. My side of the church at our wedding is going to be empty.'

Maxie gasps and raises her face toward his. 'Our wedding?'

'Mm hmm,' he says. 'You want to get married, don't you?'

Maxie dropped her eyes and smiled to herself.

"Hey!" Bea snapped, jerking her out of her daze. "What's so funny? Share the joke with us."

Shaking her head, Maxie replied, "You had to be there," and then turned and retreated to her room. Shutting the door tightly behind her, she retrieved the contents of the wooden box and climbed out onto the fire escape to smoke.

 

"It's so good to see you're doing better," said a girl with clear braces. She was smiling impossibly wide.

He nodded. "Thank you."

A man shook his hand, wished him well.

"Thank you."

Another girl apologized for not making it to the hospital.

"It's okay," he assured her, just as another man told him he was looking better.

"That's Liz, from the bar," Van whispered to him. "And that's Michael, we've double dated with him and his girlfriend a couple times... Oh, that's Nancy, she works at the bar, too. Look, there's Amber, Michael's girlfriend." But none of their names stuck to their faces, and once they were out of his sight, their faces were gone, too. He felt as if he only recognized every tenth person who said hello to him. And how awkward it must have been for them, saying hello to someone who didn't know who they were.

He stuck close by Van, holding onto her hand, her waist, her arm, her anything, seeking comfort in anything the least bit familiar to him. When she broke away from him, he felt vulnerable, as if everyone else were in on some secret that he knew nothing about. He didn't like it.

As soon as Van turned her back, he excused himself from the trio of her coworkers and retreated to the hallway. He wasn't sure which door was the bathroom. Frankly, he didn't care. He'd sit in the closet if it meant getting away from the stupid party.

He chose the door at the end of the hallway and pushed it open. It was a bedroom, dimly lit and peacefully empty. He took a deep breath, relieved to be alone, and stepped further into the room. There was a bed, a side table, a dresser, no television, but a bookshelf that occupied an entire wall. They were all romance novels. Romance novels and cookbooks.

Suddenly the window beside the bed opened and a long, toned leg appeared. He stepped back as Maxie climbed through and reached for something on the nightstand. She didn't notice him standing there. Not at first, anyway. When she finally looked up, she nearly jumped out of her pumps.

"Holy shit!" she cried, stumbling back and catching herself on the bed. "Isaac!

What are you doing in here? You scared me!"

"Sorry. I didn't realize anyone was in here. I just picked a room. I needed to get away."

She blinked. "Oh."

"Sorry I scared you. I don't mean to intrude."

"No, no," she said. "It's fine. I just wasn't expecting you. Have a seat." She motioned toward the chair in the corner. He hadn't even noticed it against the backdrop of all the books.

"Thank you," he said, setting down. She also sat, across the room from him, on the bed. "Why aren't you out in the party?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'll go back. In a little while. I just wanted to have a quick smoke." She held up her lighter. "I forgot this."

"Smoke?"

"Yes. As in get high. And before you lecture me, let me just say there's no need. You already have, a hundred times." She stood and went to the window again. "As a matter of fact, how about you join me for a change of pace?"

"No, thanks. I don't smoke." He sat up straight, narrowed his eyes. "Or do I?"

She laughed. "No, you don't. You tried it once, though. In Ohio."

"I smoked?" he said, disbelieving. "Weed?"

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," she said, and with a chuckle added, "Again."

"I wouldn't smoke."

"I think you enjoyed it."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't think I've seen you laugh as much since then."

"I wouldn't get high."

She shrugged and pushed the window open. "Well, then, I guess that's something you and Van have in common. I'm going to smoke. You can sit here and wait until I'm done if you want. Or you can go back to the party and join her. I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk about once I go out there high. God knows she'll have something to say." She began to climb out the window.

"Wait," Isaac said, standing. He looked from Maxie, to the door, and then back at Maxie, contemplating. "What the hell?" he said at last, and followed her out onto the fire escape.

 

"I think..." He paused, his eyes darted back and forth across the sky. "I think I'm high."

Maxie giggled and gently bumped him with her shoulder. "Yeah, I think you are."

He looked at her, his eyes narrow and glossy, his brows raised with surprise. "Shit..." Maxie laughed more. Her eyes danced across his face: his smile, his jaw line, his cheekbones, his glassy, sparkling eyes. She wanted to kiss him. She looked away instead.

"I started smoking a lot after my mom died," she told him. "I would get high and just... think about her. But then Van's dad found out and..." She paused. "Well, I stopped after that. Pretty much, anyway. He was the only person who knew about my habit, though. For five years." She grinned and met his gaze. "Until you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I had a glass of wine too many one night and told you all of my secrets." She chuckled.

"So I have some dirt on you, huh? If only I could remember."

"Hey, you told me all of your secrets, too."

"All of them?"

She nodded. "Not all at once, but yes, all of them."

"I doubt it."

"Why's that?"

"Because I know my secrets. And they're not things I like to share."

Lowering her eyes, she murmured, "Not with other people, maybe. But with me..."

For a moment, he simply gazed at her. She kept her eyes in her lap, her hair blew lightly in the breeze. She was so pretty. So mysterious. What was it he was missing? What was it that she was showing him, waving around in front of his face, as clear as day, that he was somehow missing?

"Whose idea was it to have this party?" he asked after a while. "Van's?"

"Of course."

He exhaled heavily. "Why? Am I into this kind of shit now? Surprise parties and strangers and people in my face all night? Is this who I am now?"

Maxie laughed and shook her head. "No. It's not who you are at all. But it's who Van is."

"Can I tell you something? Something between me and you?"

Maxie nodded.

"I'm still trying to figure out what it is that makes me so crazy about her. She's gorgeous and she's smart and she's a sweet girl, but I just don't... She just doesn't seem like my..." He shook his head. "I don't know. Gnar tells me how... how consumed with her I was, how much she's changed me. And I keep reminding myself of that. Obviously there's something about her that's kept me around for so long. Right?"

"Right," Maxie choked out, unable to keep the tears from welling in her eyes and unable to look away from him. She tried not to blink.

"But then," he went on. "I think, if I'm as in love with her as everyone says, how come I never introduced her to anyone? No one even knew her name. They kept referring to her as 'the girl.' 'Oh,'" he said mockingly. " 'So this is the girl...'"

Maxie's mouth fell agape, words lingered on the tip of her tongue. I'm the girl. She said nothing.

Isaac chuckled. "I guess I have changed. I guess I am the type of guy who celebrates nine-month anniversaries and—"

"What?"

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "She said for our nine-month anniversary, I surprised her with flowers and we drove to Jones Beach and had a picnic or something." Maxie stared at him, dumfounded. "What? She didn't tell you?"

"No," Maxie said. "She didn't."

"Hm." He shrugged. "I took her for the kiss and tell type."

"She is," Maxie replied. She paused to think. Flowers and a picnic? The beach? Nine-month anniversary? She couldn't imagine Van forgot to mention it. It was impossible. Would Van choose not to mention it? No. That was equally impossible.

She glanced at Isaac. Maybe he'd told her not to mention it.

Isaac leaned back against the window. "Tell me, Maxie," he said in a low, solemn voice. "Who am I? Better yet, who does Van think I am? Tell me about the man I've led her to believe I am."

Maxie swallowed hard. Her breathing was quick and shallow. Her heart was pounding. "Whatever man," she said slowly, "you are on the outside. That's the Isaac Van knows." Not the man who likes surprise parties. Not the man who celebrates nine-month anniversaries. That man didn't exist.

"And what about you? What Isaac do you know?"

With trembling lips and an aching heart, she replied, "The real one."

 

"Hey," Maxie whispered, nudging him as they stepped into the hallway. "Stop laughing."

"Was I laughing?"

"Yes."

"At what?"

This time Maxie laughed. "I don't know. Just stop. If Van realizes you're high, she's going to kill me."

"She doesn't care that you're high?"

Maxie shrugged. "She probably expects me to be high. Anyway, stop laughing. Act natural."

He followed her to the kitchen, where they found seats on the island. She couldn't help but stare at him and wait. Wait for him to remember what had happened the last time they'd been in that kitchen together. Not even a hint of recognition passed over his features.

He leaned in close to her and whispered, "Don't judge me for what I'm about to say but, God. I've turned into the biggest loser ever if these are the people I've spent the last year and a half hanging out with."

Maxie threw back her head and laughed. "You don't hang out with these people. They're mostly Van's friends. I don't even know most of them." She nodded toward a girl sitting on the couch wearing a modest, floral dress and cardigan. "See that girl?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"I bet she's a dominatrix."

Isaac's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "You bet what?"

"Look at those heels." He looked at the girl's heels. Contrary to her dress, the platform, pointy-heeled stilettos were daring and sexy. "And her nails." Her fingernails were painted blood red and filed to a point.

"She's wearing a crucifix around her neck," he said.

Maxie scoffed. "Maybe she's amused by the irony of it."

Isaac bowed his head to giggle. "You think she has a dungeon?"

Maxie studied her a moment. "Nah, I don't think so. Look at her hair. Bad extensions. If she can't afford nice hair, she can't afford a dungeon."

"She probably has a sex room, though."

"Yeah, where she keeps her chains, whips, bibles, and holy water."

Isaac laughed loudly. The girl glanced at them, and Maxie quickly looked away.

"You think she knows we were talking about her?" he asked.

"I don't think so."

"I feel like everyone knows we're high."

She giggled. "That's just because you're high."

"You don't think anyone knows?"

"They probably all know that I'm high."

"But I was with you, so don't you think—"

"Babe! Here you are," Van said, stepping in between Isaac's legs and wrapping her arms around his waist. "Where've you been?"

He shot a nervous glance at Maxie and quickly averted his eyes. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. "Hey. I've been around. You know."

"Do you recognize anyone?"

"Yeah, sure," he said.

"Anyone new?"

"Oh. No."

She sighed and looked at Maxie. "Hey, can you do me a favor? I need—" She paused and leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "Are you high?"

"C'mon, Van. You didn't expect me to endure this night without a buffer, did you?"

Van lowered her voice. "You've been smoking a lot lately. Every once in a while was one thing, but now..."

"I guess almost being raped, watching someone die, and watching someone you care about almost die will do it you," Maxie replied dryly.

"You weren't the only one who suffered, Maxie. We all suffered."

"Well, then you should all smoke a joint. Take it from me, it helps."

Van glared at her friend. "It's just a temporary fix. Eventually, you'll have to face whatever's bothering you. Look at what Isaac's dealing with, you don't see him getting high."

Maxie grinned and Isaac looked away. Glancing from him, to her, and then back to him, Van's eyes widened. "Are you high?" she cried, nudging him with her fingers.

He frowned guiltily. "I may have taken a puff or two."

Van gasped and stepped out of his embrace. "Oh, my God!" she cried. Everyone standing by glanced in their direction. "I worked so hard on this party! The least you can do is be lucid for it!" Without waiting for a reply, she pivoted and stalked off. With a sigh, Isaac dropped his head in his hands. "I'm not in the right mind to deal with this right now," he groaned.

"Really?" she said. "Because my high is blown."

Grinning, Isaac stood. "I guess I should go after her." Or you could just stay. "Thank you for making this night halfway bearable," he said, playfully punching her knee. She glanced down at his impersonal display of affection and couldn't hide her disdain. "Wish me luck."

She watched in agony as he left her to attend to Van. She felt as if she were literally splitting down the middle, falling apart a little more with every step he took toward her friend. And then, when she knew she was about to break and shatter into a million pieces, he paused just in front of Van's door and turned to look at her.

The gaze was brief, but when his eyes met hers she saw that familiar sparkle that made her gasp for breath. It lasted but a moment, but she would keep it with her the rest of the night.

 

Isaac pushed the door open to find Van sitting on the bed, taking off her shoes. She glared up at him as he came in and shut the door behind him, but then she quickly dropped her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"This party is for you."

"Yeah," he said with a scoff. "And in what parallel fucking universe do I like parties? Surprise parties with a bunch of strangers?"

Van recoiled as if she'd just been slapped, then jumped to her feet. "They aren't strangers!" she shot back.

"They are to me!"

"Well, excuse me for trying to do something nice for you!"

Isaac raised his palms to her. "I don't want to fight, okay? I just... I don't know who I've been this past year and half. All I know is who I am right now. And the person I am right now is not a fan of mingling with a room full of people I don't recognize. I didn't plan on getting high. Maxie said I'd tried it before so I said what the hell—"

"You have?"

"According to Maxie."

She rolled her eyes, turning away and shaking her head. "Right, according to Maxie. She would know. Just like she knows everything else about your life that I don't. Your friends, your family, your extracurricular activities."

"Van—"

"I always knew you're not the opening up type, but I'm your girlfriend. And as it turns out, I'm the only one you don't open up to!"

Isaac shrugged weakly. "I don't know what to say. I don't know how to defend myself. I don't know who I opened up to."

Plopping down on the bed, Van dropped her head in her hands. She looked like she wanted to give in, but her brows were still furrowed and her jaw was still tight as if she was fighting the urge. "I'm sorry," she said at last. The words came out constricted. "I shouldn't be yelling at you right now. This isn't your fault. I just... I don't understand."

He went to the bed and sat beside her. "I'm sorry I can't explain it to you."

"I really just wanted to do something nice for you. I thought maybe if I brought you around your friends and people who care about you, it would strike a memory or something." She shrugged. "I just wanted to help you."

He draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. "Thank you."

"Yeah, right."

He chuckled. "Maybe we should go back out there?"

"No. We don't have to."

More genuinely, Isaac repeated, "Thank you."