Mia looks across her desk at the girl sitting in front her — small face framed by a shock of curly hair, dark circles under the eyes, wearing a coat that seems a few sizes too big for her. Upon her arrival, Mia had offered a coat hanger but the girl had refused. For the past 30 minutes during their conversation, Mia had watched the flecks of snow on her coat melt slowly in the heated office room. And now she notices that the girl seems to have shrunk further into her over-sized coat, as if she too wants to melt away and disappear.
“I’m sorry that you have to go through this, Leah. You will find it hard to believe these words now. But trust me, it will get better.”
Leah sighs. She has heard it a million times before and she can no longer find the strength to respond to it. She does not meet Mia’s eyes and looks out through the window at the snow falling in a swirl of frenzy.
Mia waits. She has become really good at it after doing this job for twenty years. She used to be such an impatient person in her younger days. She refused to go to amusement parks with her friends because waiting in queues stressed her out. She only drank instant coffee, which she made by mixing hot and cold water, because she didn’t want to wait until it cooled down. But when she started working as a life agent, she has learned that patience is an essential skill. Especially in her line of work where her role is to help people build a new life. Her clients come to her for so many different reasons but one common thing they all need is time, more than anything else.
The silence is finally broken by Leah’s voice. “I’m just so tired of it, you know. I feel like I’m falling apart at the seams. I can’t shake off this sadness that makes me want to cry all the time. Sometimes, I get so angry I want to break something or hurt someone. I can’t fall asleep at night because I keep thinking about what went wrong. I’m so tired of my feelings and thoughts. I just want to leave it all behind and move on.”
With a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes, she asks, “Can you help me?”
“Yes, I can.” Mia gives a reassuring smile. “It’ll take some time but we can work through it.” She gets several cases like this every year. A break-up is among the top three reasons people come to seek her help.
“How long will it take?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure because it’s case by case. It may take a few months or a year or maybe more.”
Leah looks down at her lap, disappointed. “It’s just not fair. I wish I could move on easily just like he did.” She chews at her lip as if she’s pondering something.
Mia is not a mind-reader but she knows exactly what Leah’s next words will be.
Leah looks up and says softly, “How about the Memory Eraser?”
There it is. The Memory Eraser. The device that lets you delete unwanted memories. It sounds too good to be true but there are a few catches. It only allows you to delete memories from the last three years and you cannot choose which memories you want to keep. Three years of your life gone, just like that.
Mia knows there are many other life agents in this city who will agree to a client’s request like this, no questions asked. It’s good for the business since the fee for using the Memory Eraser is quite high. But Mia never offers the Memory Eraser as an available option to her clients. Throughout her career, she has only administered the Memory Eraser twice. Even if clients request for it, she has refused, losing her many clients over the years. Perhaps, if she cared more about money, she would not go to extra lengths to make sure her clients understand the implications of using the Memory Eraser. How it will not solve all their problems like they think it would. How risky it is to lose their memories because they are losing important parts of their identity. How there are disorienting side-effects of loneliness and confusion that will never go away.
Mia tries to explain all of this to Leah.
“What if I still want to go ahead with it?” Leah asks.
“I’m sorry, Leah. I cannot offer you the Memory Eraser.”
“You don’t get it, do you?!” Leah snaps, her face is contorted in anger and pain. “You act like you understand what I’m going through but you don’t! You don’t know what it’s like to have someone who’s your whole world act as if you no longer exist. You don’t know what it’s like to hold on to memories that bring you nothing but pain.”
Mia feels her right eyelid twitch, a small way in which her body betrays her feelings. But her voice is calm when she responds to Leah. “I know you’re hurting but I can help you if you will let me. Just not with the Memory Eraser. It would seem counter-intuitive, but your memories will help you move on and start your new life.”
Mia grabs the box of tissue papers and hands it over to Leah, who has started crying.
“You’re still young, Leah. I don’t want you to lose a part of who you are because someone broke your heart.” Mia feels like she has said everything she needed to say.
When Leah leaves, Mia walks her to the door and stares at her retreating form, wondering if she will see her again. At that moment, her phone chimes with a message: “See you soon for lunch!”
She has almost forgotten her lunch appointment. As she grabs her coat to go out, the yellow sticky note on her computer catches her attention: “pick up present”
The door jingles as Mia pushes it open and steps into the restaurant. It takes her a while to spot him in the lunch crowd. He waves his hand as she makes her way to the table.
“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No worries. I just got here too. Usual order?” Peter asks.
“You know me,” she replies.
She watches as Peter calls the waitress over and orders for both of them. He’s in his business attire, a navy blue suit, with a white shirt and red tie. The suit fits him perfectly and she thinks it must be custom-made. She met Peter as a client eight years ago. Even after their working relationship ended, they have continued to keep in touch and he has become one of her few close friends over the years.
Peter pushes his glasses up his nose as is his habit and asks, “So how’s your day so far?”
“I had a meeting with a client in the morning. They requested for the Memory Eraser.”
“Uh oh. I am assuming that didn’t end well.”
“It didn’t. But she might come back after taking some time to think.”
“Hmm..” Peter takes a sip of his water. “You know, it took everything I had in me to refrain from breaking something in your office when you told me no.”
She smiles at the memory. “Yeah, I remember you were pretty upset.”
“I just couldn’t understand why you would not let me use the Memory Eraser. I truly believed it was the only way to overcome my alcohol addiction. My last chance at starting a new life and you would not give it to me. I was so angry.” He chuckles.
“But even so, you came back the next day,” Mia replies.
“Yes, I did. Because you said something that I couldn’t forget even after I left your office that day.”
Just as she is about to ask him what it was, the waitress brings their orders, and the conversation takes a different direction. As they eat their lunch, Peter shares with her about his two children, showing photos of their winter vacation. She tells Peter about her new hobby of gardening. Peter asks about her tomato plants but does not ask about her family. Peter tells her she should come over for dinner with his family some time and she says she will check her schedule and get back to him. They both know she won’t.
After lunch, they get coffee for takeaway. As they are saying their goodbyes, Peter stops her and says, “This is what you said: It takes more courage to remember and move on, no matter how painful it might be. It’s the only way we can learn how to love. It’s how life is supposed to be lived.” Then, he raises his coffee cup and says, “Cheers to us.”
She smiles and watches him disappear into the crowd.
It’s snowing again by the time Mia gets back home.
She is greeted by warmth and soft piano music when she steps into the house. She makes her way towards the source of the music, the only room with the lights on.
He’s sitting by the window, looking out at a group of children playing outside, throwing snow at each other. When she enters the room, he glances at her but remains silent.
“I’ve got a present for you,” she smiles at him, holding out a square box wrapped nicely with a ribbon on top.
His eyes light up when he peels away the wrapping paper and finds a box of almond chocolates. He eats one right away.
She stands beside him and looks out at the snow, hands resting on the handles of the wheelchair. Snow brings back memories.
A car skidding along a slippery road. Sirens. A dimly lit hospital corridor. Doctors. Mentions of brain damage and memory loss. The ringing in her ears. The darkness that consumed her.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have someone who’s your whole world act as if you no longer exist. You don’t know what it’s like to hold on to memories that bring you nothing but pain.”
In the warm light, she looks fondly at her husband and wipes a smudge of chocolate near his lips. Almond chocolates have always been his favorite. “Happy birthday, my love,” she whispers softly.
Outside, on the footpath towards their house, snow falls silently and covers her footprints.
