The Memory Keeper

The Memory Keeper has been around for as long as everyone can remember. He provides relief to those seeking freedom from memories dragging them down. Those who cannot bear any aches of the heart or wish to rid of wishful longings go to him for help. But memories are a terrible thing to waste, and so he guards the discarded memories safely, until one shows up who is willing to bear the burden of the memory. Or for those curious enough for a taste of it.

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A woman in her early 30s is sitting crossed legged on the floor, several boxes and various items strewn around her. Some of the boxes were already packed to the brim and sealed shut with tape. The others still open, waiting for whatever items will be put in them. The woman took a wooden photo frame from the pile on her left side and places in gently in the box in front of her. As she was about to close the box, she breaks down in tears, taking back the photo and hold it close to her heart, not wanting to let go.

She didn’t want to, but her worried family had talked her into it after she almost burned herself while cooking. ‘You need to let go now. It’s been seven months Mia. We’re worried about you.’ At the time, she only remembered thinking, had it really been that long?

In order to forget properly, nothing should mess with the new memory, and so she needed to get rid of all the things associated with the memories. After a while, she places the photo back in the box, and finally sealed it shut.

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A woman in her late 20s, casually strolls down the memory aisle, browsing through the bottled liquid memory as if she was on her Saturday grocery shopping. ‘Hmm, what shall I get...’ She speaks to herself as her eyes survey the ceiling long metal shelves, hundreds of bottled liquids nestled in their spots, each different in color mixture and intensity.  

She stops in front of a particularly vivid reddish liquid, blending together with swirls of grey and black. If you look closely enough, you can almost see tint of pink and yellow coming through the mixture, before disappearing again in the ruby liquid.

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It was well past 8pm when Cara returned home from work. She enters the house and switches on only the lights in her kitchen area. The crisp white apartment with marbled white floor greeted her eyes. The walls clean from any pictures or decorations. She went to her refrigerator and took out a vanilla ice cream carton and a spoon. From there, she can see the city skylights in full view through the floor to ceiling glass window in her living room. It was a quaint apartment, but the window was her favorite part of the house. She takes her ice cream carton and sinks down on the soft steel grey ottoman next to the window, and starts eating it in the dim darkness, admiring the view.

She was not sure how long she had stayed there, transfixed on the thousands of blinking lights blanketing the city like stars in the sky. She kept on staring until the lights start disappearing one by one, wondering if there was anyone like her at the moment, watching the city as it goes into slumber.

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When Mia went home that night, the house seemed bigger than usual. Was it always this big?

She opens up her fridge and starts to gather things for dinner. Chicken thighs, potatoes, onions, garlic, olive oil, some salt and pepper…yup should be enough.

Her expert hands move quickly, chopping and cutting and roasting things. Once done she organizes the plates on the table and starts to place onto them the roasted chicken and potatoes she made. Halfway, she stops when she suddenly realized she had prepared enough food and plates for two people. She stood there for a while, an uncomfortable feeling rumbling in her stomach. Maybe she’s just hungry. She then packs the extra food away, perhaps she’ll have them tomorrow then.

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Cara likes to have her things cold. Cold drinks, cold fruit cuts, even the breads which she occasionally keeps in her fridge for the heck of it. She prefers winter to summer, stays away from the sun, and always had trouble understanding why people choose to sweat it out on the smoldering beach heat just for fun. Ice princess, they used to call her. She didn’t mind the nick name, but sometimes it did make her wonder. So, she takes her coffee hot and black. As the dark liquid flows down her throat, she imagines a fiery lava, burning and melting away all the iciness right down to her cold heart.

Every morning she goes to the same bakery just one block away from her house. She gets her daily caffeine fix from there; the drinks and pastries were decent enough. Only one thing seemed to bug her every time, the very chatty bakery owner. She’s learned to tune it out, the incessant chat, and was skilled enough to just nod and smile at the right moment. “Would you like to have some pie dear? We bake them fresh every day.” The lady always seemed to ask. “No thanks, just the coffee please.” She always answers in return, smiling politely.

As she heads out, an elderly couple walks in, the man guiding his wife slowly through the door. She wonders how people can stay with each other for so long, don’t they get bored? She’s read about it before, the high levels of oxytocin when people are together triggers warm, fuzzy love like feeling. It also causes other reactions like maternal instinct, the desire of parents to protect their child. She thinks of the video she’s seen once about the mother deer who sacrificed herself to the lions to protect her fawn. Ultimately the bonds and attachment people feel is just due to some hormones released in their brain, so is that what they call as love? She was skeptical about it, but she did get curious every once in a while.

Outside, a family of four were strolling the streets, and her thought drifts off to her own family. When she thinks about them, she always remembers them as being loud and boisterous, which made her wonder if she had been switched at birth. When she had collected enough money from her job, she had packed up her things and moved into her own apartment. They had called and messaged her many times since, updating her on the latest family things, asking her to come over for dinner etc. She always gave them some lame reasons of being busy. She knew they probably understood she didn’t want to come, but she didn’t feel any guilt so she could ignore it. Soon enough, they stopped trying.

Looking at the family laughing and chatting with each other on the other side of the street though, makes her wonder, what it feels like to so freely laugh and have close relationships with other people. That night, she went to her ivory cabinet and took out a bottle containing reddish liquid inside.

“Do you have anything like happy? Or excitement?” she asked the memory keeper.

“My dear, people don’t waste good memories like that. Unfortunately, most of the memories discarded here are along the lines of anger, sadness, anxiety and the like.” He answered.

“Fine, just give me something strong then…. How about this one?” She asked, pointing to the bottle in front of her, a reddish liquid with the initial M.D. on the front.

“Are you sure? It’s a pretty strong one... the owner just lost her...” He starts to speak but she cuts him off. “It’s fine, I’ll handle it. I’ll just take this one.” She had said.

“Oh well if you insist. When you finally want to use it, do remember to take it night, right before you go to sleep. We’ll let the unconscious part of your brain sort it out while you sleep.”

She pulls open the cover, and in one gulp cleared out the whole content inside, thankfully it didn’t taste much of anything. Placing the empty bottle back on her bedside table, she goes to sleep, wondering what surprises awaits her tomorrow.

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That morning, Mia was still sluggish with sleep when she turns to her side and feel around the space next to her, only to find it smooth and empty. She gets up quickly, wide eyed and starts panicking, looking at the empty spot on the right side of the bed. Where is… wait, no one should be there.

She sat for a while, trying to calm her racing heart. Perhaps she just needed more sleep. She lies back down on the bed and tries to go back to sleep, hoping for a dreamless slumber.

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Cara woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. Images from last night’s dream flooded her mind in a sickening wave. The laughter… the wedding… the car crash. She grips her chest as sharp pain strikes and her breathing got heavier until a sob escaped her lips, which turned into full-on body jerking cries. Hot tears fall from her eyes uncontrollably, and she wraps her arms around herself tightly, in fear of falling apart. Once the crying subdued, she lies back on the bed, staring at the empty bottle on her bedside table.

She didn’t know which is worse; to feel too much or to feel nothing at all.

At first, the memories hurt, and there were times when she simply stayed on her sofa for hours, cocooning herself in the velvety blanket, willing the pain to go away. But she allows it all to pass. She allows herself to feel through the emotions attached to the mix of memories.

After that, it came to her in bits and pieces.

It came from listening to the lyrics of a favorite song. Was it her favorite song? Through sitting on a bench in front of the streets, watching the cars drove by. It came from the sweet smell of pastries hovering in the air, or the sound of raindrops as it hits the ground. She lets it plays in her mind still, watching the story unfold. The more she allows it to roam freely in her mind, the clearer they got. Soon she was able to sift through the same memories without having to go through the sickening pain from before. 

She found it comforting to sit on the park bench now, simply watching the others living their life. She saw the elderly couple from before, sitting down on the grass, a picnic basket on the side. She wonders what it’s like to love someone so much that you choose to stay with them for all the remaining time that you have. She wonders if she could ever be so lucky. A mother was tickling her child, the son laughing loudly while rolling on the grass when another memory came to her, this time her own.

She was playing on the swing then, when another kid had pushed her out of it and took the spot. Not knowing how to handle her anger at the time, she had thrown a tantrum and started shouting in the middle of the playground. She saw her mother running to her and expected her to be mad when her mother suddenly took her in her arms, rubbing her back continuously. "It’s okay baby, it’s okay." She had kept saying then. It was ironic, but the warmth of her hug seemed to cool down the anger she felt inside, and she broke out crying.

A cold breeze passes her softly, cooling off the tears streaming down her face. She takes out a phone from her pocket and dials a number she hasn’t called in a while but still remembers by heart.

"Hello… what’s wrong?" The woman’s soft voice on the phone answered cautiously, but her voice got louder when Cara didn’t answer. "What is it… are you okay??"

"I’m fine… I just… do you think I can come over tomorrow Mom?" Cara said, and she hears a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the call.

"Of course dear, you’re always welcome here... I... we’ve missed you." Her mom answers after what feels like an eternity, and it took her everything to not start crying again.

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Mia could swear she was losing her mind.

She doesn’t know how to describe it, but things felt like they were out of place. She had started avoiding the busy streets for some reasons, the loud honking of the cars put her at nerves end. Sometimes she spaces out, reaching for things in her house that weren’t there. Looking at the indent made on the plush living room carpet, she swears there used to be a chair there. Once, she browses through her photo book collection, and couldn’t find any photos from the past 5 years, like her life in between that has been wiped clean. Where did her life go? She tries to think about it, but it just made her head spin.

It was laundry night, and she was crouched down on the wooden floor, picking up clothing things from the dryer and putting them in the white basket in front of her. The last item in there was a single white sock, she couldn’t find its pair in the basket, and wonders where it could be. Perhaps it was stuck in the drawer somewhere, perhaps it fell down or got mixed with the other clothes. Or perhaps it was gone for good, and the sock will never get to see its pair again. The thought made her sad somehow, and she suddenly breaks down crying on the floor, clutching the lone sock.

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The next time Cara went to her favorite bakery, she accepted the bakery lady’s offer for a hot chocolate drink and a blueberry pie, which stunned her for a bit. It wasn’t long before she starts chatting again, her already high-pitched voice seemingly higher than usual as she chats about everything and nothing while she packs up the items to give to Cara. Once outside though, Cara decided to stay for a while and sat down on one of the chairs outside the bakery and starts having her breakfast. The lady sees this and decided to join her outside. Cara didn’t mind it, and just listens to her chat away.

"How is the pie dear?" She asks after Cara just had her first bite. "Oh it’s delicious, I don’t know why I never tried it before." Cara answered.

"It’s a lovely thing isn’t it! My son used to love it so much." She said, and Cara noted the use of wording.

"Used to?" She asks, and the lady’s smile turned sadder. "Yes, he got in an accident a while back. But I know he’s in a better place now. Would you like to see him?" She asks, wiping a single tear off her cheek as she takes out her phone and browses through them, before finally letting Cara view the picture on it. It was a picture of her son and his wife on their wedding day.

She knew the smile, knew it so well from her dreams. Only the woman in the picture was unknown to her, but not for long. "This might sound weird, but what’s her name… and where can I find her?"

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Mia had just finished her shift for the day.

After exiting the shop where she works at, she decided to stick around for a bit and sat on the wooden bench outside the building, watching people pass her by. She sat there for a while, half hoping, half expecting for someone to stop by. When it didn’t seem like it was happening anytime soon, she gets up from her seat and starts to walk away, when a voice called out her name. She turns around at the unfamiliar voice and found a girl around her age staring back at her, a smile on her face.

"Hi, we’ve never met before but… I think I have something that belongs to you."