Remembrance

(Note: this story contains strong language, alcohol use, and hints of past violence)

The olive was not only a revolting neon green but a wily bastard, Lena thought as she aimed her toothpick. Holding her hand steady, she geared up for her next shot, the olive wobbling slightly in her cocktail glass. As the olive stilled, Lena seized her opportunity and lunged forward. But before the toothpick could make impact, the olive shot further away from her toothpick, taunting her all the while.

Of course, not even a simple snack would be easy for her today. Lena sighed.

It was day 760. Well day 760, 6 hours, and 27 minutes to be exact since that fateful day she awoke in the hospital. That made it exactly 2 years of this shit, of this half existence Lena called a life. Where there was no what came before, only after. 

Happy fricking anniversary, babe, Lena thought to herself as she took aim at the olive again, missing of course. Lena moved her gaze away from her vegetable nemesis, and brought the glass to her lips feeling the alcohol begin to numb her. She focused back in on what her date was droning on about, his legs splayed wide as he invaded her space - and not in a welcome way. Lena leaned away from a rogue finger as he gesticulated wildly. 

What was his name again? Vod? No. That wasn’t a name. Viktor? Vikrum? Vikrum, yes that was it.  

“And then he had the nerve to say - can you believe this - that I should have patience,” Vikrum threw his head back and laughed crudely. “Patience! Hah!” He slammed his hand on the table. “But fucking parents I tell you, right?”

Lena took aim at her olive again, this time it was no match for her as she speared it easily. She popped it into her mouth and feigned a nod. But Vikrum took no notice so wrapped up in his story as he was.

Vikrum seemed to finally have noticed he had been the only one talking for a while. “What about you? What are your parents like?” 

Lena choked on her olive, the sharp pinch of gin stinging her nose. She swallowed, well it had to come up sometime.

“Dead,” Lena said a little more sharply then she meant it. Now it was her date's turn to choke. Well, that wasn’t exactly the truth now, was it? The truth was that she had no earthly idea. She didn’t know what her parents were like. If they were strict or kind. Tall or short. She didn’t know anything really. Not just about her parents, but about who she was in The Before, as Lena liked to call it. But that was hardly the type of thing you shared on a first date. 

She waited patiently for Vikrum to stop coughing as he frantically took a sip of water. “I never really knew them.” A semi-truth, Lena thought to herself, pleased. 

“I'm so sorry,” he said, but the words felt a bit empty. This was someone who was willing to go to war with his own father over a misplaced drill after all. Lena knew he didn’t mean it, but she appreciated a good performance as that’s all Lena really knew how to do herself.

It’s day 760, her brain helpfully reminded her again. She physically shook her head to clear out the unwanted thought and plastered on a smile. It was no use to think of the past, especially since by all definitions she didn’t have one. Lena downed the rest of her martini. Right now, she was hell bent on keeping things in the now.

“Let’s not talk about our past,” she said, smiling coyly as she ran her fingers over Vikrum’s sweaty forearm. “I’m more interested in what comes next. Want to get out of here?”

Vikrum leaned closer and smiled at her, a gesture that seemed very unfamiliar to his sharp features. “Now you’re talking,” he said, waving for the check in the self-assured way that all Wallstreet Bros somehow had, the server rushing over to greet him as he slipped her a shiny black card. 

“Thank you so much for coming in, Vod,” the server said as she gathered the check. Jesus, his name actually was Vod. Maybe his anger toward his parents was justified after all.

Vod slung an arm around her shoulder as they staggered out the door. The gin was making Vod more tolerable by the second, and she guessed he would have to do as tonight’s distraction. It was her amnesia anniversary after all, and Lena had full intentions of doing something she regretted. 

– –

The doctors told her she would be fine, of course. Fine being a relative term. Fine meaning that physically they couldn’t find anything wrong with her - except the big gaping hole in her memory.  

On that fateful day two years ago, Lena had been dumped at the hospital entrance, naked and without an ounce of belongings on her. It had taken hours to clean the blood off of her, to x-ray every inch of her body, and then many more days of dozens and dozens of nurses poking and prodding Lena in all her squishy spots. 

Or so she had been told. Lena’s memories of the early days at the hospital were a bit fuzzy. Just one big blur of pain and endless questions. Who are you? Where do you live? What happened to you? All seemed like fairly reasonable questions to be asking a hospital patient, but there was nothing normal about Lena’s circumstances. With every basic question she couldn’t answer, the tears pricked the corner of her eyes and sadness quickly morphed into frustration. 

Apparently all they had gotten out of her before she passed out was a name - Lena Marie Shah. However, when the hospital ran the name, they were unable to find any record of her in the system. No attached social security number, no known address, no next of kin. A matter of which they approached her with great suspicion. But, Lena wasn’t any wiser than the doctors and nurses, or the countless police officers that had shown up to question her. 

They had finally stopped grilling her when she started panic screaming and couldn’t stop. That’s when they sent in the hospital social worker.

The social worker smelt like jasmine and had the habit of reflecting everything Lena said back to her in calm hushed tones. ”It sounds like you have no memory of who you are.” “It sounds like you don’t know of any emergency contacts you might have.” “It sounds like this whole process is really stressing you out.”

After weeks of this, Lena eventually convinced the social worker that she really, truly didn’t remember anything at all. That’s when they set her up with her new life, complete with a brand new set of IDs and some starter cash courtesy of the U.S. government. It was all really kind, but Lena couldn’t help but feel like they were just trying to get rid of her, pawning off any future mental distress as her own problem.

In the weeks to come, Lena fancied herself an amateur sleuth. Holed up in her dingy new apartment, she scoured the internet for any signs of her previous life. She only occasionally rose from her spot on the living room floor to yell back at her neighbor who frequently pounded on the door complaining about the scent she claimed was leaking out into the shared hallway. Lena spent months chasing leads on mysterious accidents that lined up with the day she arrived at the hospital, landing herself in many sketchy situations. But one by one, they had all been a bust. 

So, Lena changed tactics. She pulled together what little cash she had left and went on a shopping spree. Her apartment looked like it came straight out of a scene of Hoarders - piled high with an assortment of goods - perfumes, snacks, tiles, fabrics. Lena held, and smelt, and tasted hundreds of items. Hoping with all her might to jog her memory of anything, anything that would paint a story about who she was. 

One day, after taking a bite of her tenth flavor of pudding Lena closing her eyes for the hundredth time and trying to meditate on what the flavor sparked for her.

Nothing, absolutely nothing. Lena thought as she hurled the pudding cup at her wall. As the pudding made its squishy impact, her neighbor started yelling through the thin walls. It was at that moment that Lena finally lost it, screaming back until her vision started to blur and her voice grew hoarse.

It was then, as she stood covered in tapioca pudding, cursing out her neighbor that Lena realized that something had to give. She had hit rock bottom. The apartment stench was latching into her own skin, following her even as she left the house. 

And quite frankly, Lena was running out of money. She really really just needed to get a job.

So, Lena did just that. The next time she ran to the corner shop, instead of buying her usual odd assortment of knick knacks, she purchased dozens of trash bags. She hustled home and threw out her experiments one by one. She talked to the owners of the small Italian restaurant down the block, using her tragic backstory to land herself a job as a waitress, as unqualified for it as she was. 

And that quickly became her days. Lena would crash on the couch after a long shift in front of her television with a bottle of gin in hand, watching reruns of Friends on repeat until she had one thing that she could claim she remembered.

And so slowly, day by day, Lena started her new life. Of where there were no befores, only what came afters.

– –

The next day, Lena awoke to the pain of her throbbing head and the horrible smell of her own breath. Apparently, pounding a half dozen martinis in the matter of hours only delayed one's problems until the next day. 

Lena carefully lifted her head out from under the covers and peered out into her apartment’s abyss. Empty. Thankfully Vod had the decency to sneak out in the early hours of the morning. Lena crawled out of bed and stuck her head directly under the kitchen tap, drinking water from it eagerly. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she opened up the refrigerator door, desperate for something to soak up the alcohol that was still swirling in her system. She was greeted by the disappointing sight of rotten milk and a jar of pickles.

That wouldn’t do at all. Lena needed provisions.

She pulled on something random from the nearest pile of clothes and was out the door in an instant - retracing familiar steps to the bodega next door. Lena’s stomach growled as she surveyed the tasty treats before her. She loaded up on electrolytes and spicy chips and as Lena made her way over to pay, something promising her 'Marshmallow Dreams' caught her eye. Jackpot. She grabbed three of them, fully intending on eating them all for breakfast.

“Oh man, a DreamBar,” proclaimed the lanky man behind the counter. Lena peered at him curiously from under her hoodie. He must have been new. Lena had lived next door so long that the cashiers knew better than to try and make conversation with her the morning after. “I haven’t had one of those in ages. What do you think of them?”

Lena shrugged, the gesture reintroducing a stabbing pain in her temple. “I dunno, dude. I’ve never had one.”

“You’ve NEVER had a DreamBar?” For real??” Much to her chagrin, as he was the only thing standing between her and her snacks, Lanky Man kept talking. “That jingle always got stuck in my head as a kid. When you need a break, when you need an escape, DreamBar DreamBars, they'll be all you ever need. It’s like living in a dream,” he sang at her. He even embellished the last part with a jump step and jazz hands. 

Lena looked on at him blankly, her hand desperately hovering over her candy bar, as she waited for her change. She was ready to crawl back into bed, one step closer to dreaming herself. 

“Really, nothing?" He leveled puppy dog eyes at her for a second, but then immediately brightened. "You’re in for a treat! I’m excited for you to try it.” He smiled at her broadly.

Even through her hangover, Lanky Man’s excitement was starting to become contagious. Feeling slightly warmed, she lifted the candy bars in salute. “I’ll be sure to let you know what I think.” Her mind was already on Googling the jingle when she got home.

It was day 761 of The After. Something told Lena that she'd be starting kicking off year 3 with a brand new memory.