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WE SEE OUR NEW CHARGE, a thirty-five-year-old man named Isaiah Fox. His blonde hair is so fair, you can barely see the stubble on his pale skin. I would swear his green eyes glance in my direction when we appear, but it's probably my imagination. He looks skinny, but his arms are the biggest part of him. I can see his biceps bulging under his maroon t-shirt.
“So, what's the deal with this guy?” Ben asks. “He's in a wheelchair?”
Isaiah's disability is the first thing Ben notices. Why am I not surprised?
I always study my charges beforehand, so I already have a speech prepared, “Thirty-five-year-old Isaiah Fox is a freelance writer from Annapolis, Maryland. He is unmarried, has no children, and has lived alone for the last six years.”
“How?” Ben asks. “The dude's in a wheelchair. Wouldn't it be hard to live alone if you're disabled?”
Clearing my throat, I continue, “I'm sure it is difficult, but he prefers his independence. Modifications were made to his house some time ago, and I believe that's made the transition a bit easier for him. He does have a sister who visits every now and then, but his social interactions are sadly limited.”
“Why's he in a wheelchair?” asks Ben. Every time he speaks, he says something about the wheelchair. It's like he's fixated on it.
“You can read this information on the LightTab, if you'd like, but since you asked... I'll tell you. Isaiah was in an accident several years ago. Though he suffered severe injuries, he can move around on crutches a bit as well. Anyway, why don't you try listening to his thoughts, Ben? We can't proceed with our mission until we know what he wants.”
“Yeah... I was never any good at that.”
Ben flops down on the nearby sofa and manifests a beer. I immediately yank it from his hand and make it disappear.
“That's what practice is for,” I reply, grabbing one of Ben's hands.
Before I drop the quartz crystal into his palm, Ben teases, “Gee... if you wanted to hold hands, you could've asked.”
“I'm not holding your hand. I'm giving you this,” I say, pointing at the crystal. “You do know what it is, right?”
“Of course. I'm not that stupid.” Ben clutches the crystal, leans back, parts his legs, and hangs his arms across the back of the sofa. His relaxed posture isn't optimal for mind-reading, but I'm not going to lecture him—yet. “So... what do you want me to do?”
“Try to listen to Isaiah's thoughts. We need to figure out what he wants.”
“He probably wants a miracle to get him walking again,” Ben says. “Either that, or he wants sex. It's what all men want. You don't have to be a mind reader to know that.”
“Ben,” I say his name as sternly as I can. “I'm your instructor, and I'm telling you to use the crystal. Use it.”
“You sound like you walked off the set of a bad sci-fi movie,” Ben says, then he mocks me in a booming voice, “Use the crystal, Ben. The power is in your hand. Use it.”
“Will you please just use it?” I beg. “I need you to take this seriously. You don't want a zero rating forever, do you?”
“Honestly? I don't really care,” Ben says. “But I still think you're cute, and I can tell you're getting irritated with me, so I'll give it a shot.”
Ben has his eyes closed for so long, I start to wonder if he's zoning out. A minute passes. Two minutes pass. He's not trying to read Isaiah's mind this whole time, is he?
To my surprise, he is. “Isaiah's thinking about something called FoodGo,” Ben reports. “Also, I think he's expecting a visitor.”
A few seconds later, a ringing doorbell confirms my student's statement. Isaiah propels his wheelchair to the door and greets his guest: a pretty young girl with pale, dip dyed hair. Waist-length and shiny, her hair is blonde on the top and turquoise on the bottom. When she raises a bag, I see the word FoodGo stitched on the fabric.
“I've got your groceries!” the girl exclaims. “Do you want me to help you put them away again?”
“Yeah. I'd really appreciate that,” Isaiah says, moving away from the door. His guest has several bags, and she carries them two at a time. She has a permanent smile on her face, as if she enjoys every second of her work.
“Damn, this is girl is hot,” Ben says. “Like I said, I don't have to read Isaiah's mind to know what he wants.”
I ignore my student and research “FoodGo” on my LightTab. Apparently, it's an internet-based service that delivers groceries directly to a consumer's door.
Isaiah follows the delivery girl into his kitchen, where she unpacks his groceries and identifies his refrigerated and frozen items. “You don't have to put away all the yogurts,” Isaiah says.
The girl asks, “Why? Are you going to eat one right now?”
“No, I just... I don't want to inconvenience you. I can put away most of this myself.”
The girl insists it's no problem, and that she enjoys doing it. Unbeknownst to her, my student is circling her. Ben rakes his gaze over her body, stares at her butt, nods approvingly, and grins. He's disgusting.
“Ben, can you not?” I ask. If he wasn't distracting me, I would have already had this mission figured out. “Stop staring at that girl and come stand next to me.”
“Why? Are you getting jealous?”
I roll my eyes at his ludicrous question. It's so dumb, it doesn't deserve a response. I hold up my LightTab, using it to identify the delivery girl with the doll-like face.
Angelica Green, 25.
I doubt I could get Ben to do anything helpful, so I take the lead and listen to our charge's thoughts.
“Angelica's so beautiful. I wish I could get her to stay a bit longer. Would it be weird to ask her if she'd like a coffee? She's probably got more work to do. I wonder if she has a boyfriend? If I was a braver man, I'd ask her out.”
I tell Ben, “I think we have our mission. Isaiah seems to have a crush on Angelica. He wants to ask her out. He—”
Ben interrupts me with a bark of laughter. “This guy wants to go out with this girl? Are you for real?”
“Yes.” I remain calm, even though I hate his attitude. “Why is that so outlandish to you?”
“Do I really have to spell it out?” Ben asks. “To begin with, she's miles out of Isaiah's league. She's a ten and he's a five. Also, she's too young for him.”
“Not really,” I object. “When my mom married my dad, he was twelve years older than her. They didn't have a problem with it.”
“Still, just looking at them together, I can't help but think... nope,” Ben says. “If you accept this as our mission, you're setting us up for a fail.”
I wholeheartedly disagree with him. They may seem like an unlikely couple, but I enjoy unlikely couples. Before I can do anything, I need to know if Angelica has a boyfriend. The easiest way to do that is to contact her current spirit guide. I could check the LightTab, but spirit guides usually have the most up-to-date information.
I send a text to Angelica's guide, asking if she's single or available. Less than a minute later, I get a promising reply.
“Angelica is currently single. I believe she would like to have a boyfriend.”
If I was a better instructor, I would probably tell Ben what I'm doing, but I don't care to get him involved. I can't stand him. I really can't.
Before I can act on this newfound information, Angelica and Isaiah are saying goodbye, and he's escorting her to the door. They seem familiar with each other, so I assume this isn't the first time she's delivered his groceries—and now that I'm on the job, it won't be the last time.
“That's really going to be our mission?” Ben asks. “We're getting this goofy-looking guy to hit on one of the hottest chicks I've ever seen?”
I ignore Ben again, because I'm too busy listening to Angelica's thoughts as she heads down the driveway.
“Isaiah is so nice. I wish every guy would treat me like that.”
Her thoughts are platonic, but at least they're positive.
Laying a hand on Isaiah's shoulder, I say, “I've got your back, buddy. We're gonna make this happen.”