Chapter Text
Honestly, she’s already used to it by now.
Every day feels just like the previous one. Day after day, week after week. Always the same, yet somewhat different. The certainty is kind of comforting. If she embarrasses herself, she knows that everybody will have forgotten it in two minutes. If she says something she regrets, she knows that she just needs to go to the bathroom to be wiped away from people's memories. So simple!
A cool skill, like a super power. A way to erase her mistakes. That’s what she keeps telling herself.
Thinking about it like that gives her a comforting — despite false — feeling of control over the situation, tricks herself into feeling like this happens because she wants it to. She’s always preferred to think like this. Even though she knows it's a lie, even though she hates it and she knows it.
Unfortunately, no matter how much she tries to ignore the purple elephant in the room, the truth is just always there, greeting her every time she wakes up. An uncomfortable, annoying buzz at the back of her head that makes sure she’s always aware that not being remembered sucks. She wants to live, have friends, a family, people who remember her. She wants to have a normal life, and be embarrassed of stuff she did, and regret things for a long time. She wants to meet someone oddly cool in a line at the bank and have them remember her, months later, while waiting in yet another line. “Hey, you're Ava, right?”, they would say. Ava would look at them as if she was trying to remember who they were. She wouldn't be; she has an excellent memory, but she would pretend, because she wanted that to look like those romanticised moments from the books she read. They would point at themselves. “I’m Ella! We met at the bank a few months ago!”, they would tell her, smiling brightly. Ava would look like she just had an eureka moment. “Oh! That’s right! It’s been a while”, she'd answer. “Well, guess we'll run into each other at the bank again after this”, they would say while signaling to the big poster that said “BLACK WIDOW” in big capital letters. They would laugh, Ava would buy her tickets. They would watch the movie and proceed to never see each other again. And that would be okay, because that's just how life is.
And Ava wanted it the way it was. She wanted the good, and the bad, and everything that came with it.
The reality was cruel, and the truth is you can't have everything you want. Or, in Ava's case, she couldn't have anything at all. Because all she wanted was to live a normal life, have people care about her, remember her — and that was all she could not have.
Ava was a blur. She was the foggy moments in your dreams that you can't quite remember what happened. She was the void between memories, the blank spaces in your childhood stories.
She was a moment, that's what she was. That single split second of time in which you knew her.
In your reality it was only at that point that she existed, because as soon as you turned your head to call the waitress, or distracted yourself with your friend's texts, all memories you had of her would be gone. You would look at her and ask yourself: “why is she sitting on my table?”. She would apologise and leave, and you would forget about it too before you could even tweet about how weird that was. You would see her again a week later, at the same place as the week prior, but you wouldn't remember. Not even a “huh, do I know her? She looks familiar”. Nothing. She’s a stranger now.
Ava sighed and took a sip of her coffee as she saw a man enter the cafe with a book in his hands. It's a different book, she notices. Last week he was reading And Then There Were None, and now he’s reading Murder on the Orient Express. An Agatha Christie guy, Ava thought. She wanted to ask what he thought about the previous book, but that would be too creepy. He doesn't remember the long and exciting conversation they had about him trying to resume his habit of reading. Hours of talking about books, cursing some writers, recommending stories. He wrote all of Ava’s recommendations on his phone.
It’s weird, the way he shared a piece of his life with Ava, showed her a part of him, talked about something he loved, and now he doesn't even acknowledge her presence.
She wonders what was his reaction when he saw the titles of the books she thoroughly recommended later on, when he went to the bookstore.
Ava likes coffee shops. She likes the energy, she likes the people that go there. College students, aspiring writers, musicians, avid readers, theatre kids analysing a script, people just seeking some much needed time alone. It all creates a very specific and warm atmosphere. So many people, all of them with their own lives and aspirations, trying to ease the stress of their day with a cup of coffee.
She stared at the street through the large glass panel, taking another sip of her coffee, thinking about her own dreams and aspirations. She couldn't help but remind herself she wouldn't ever be able to pursue them like others did.
Ava sighed, taking in the smell of fresh coffee and finishing her cup, before getting up and leaving the cafe before her brain had the chance of going into a spiral of very depressing thoughts. She was really not in the mood to drown herself in regret and self pity. She heard “uh... Ma’am? I don't think you’ve paid for your order yet!” before she closed the door.
It’s really not that bad. Even though no one is able to remember her, it does have its perks. She kind of likes it sometimes.
Like right now. Since no one remembers her, she doesn't have to pay for anything. Or work. I mean, she couldn't work even if she wanted to (she did), because nobody would remember having hired her, but who cares, right?
So she just walked away, trying to leave her worries behind, along with her unpaid coffee. Because she was feeling a little down, she decided to go somewhere she knew she would feel safe.
A giddy yet quiet “welcome!” greeted her as she walked through big, old wooden doors. She smiled at the woman hidden behind a desk surrounded by books and documents.
A library. Not any library, though. It’s only when she’s inside this one that she feels like she’s at home. This is her safe place. It's not because of the books that she feels like that here, though. It’s because of-
“Ah! There she is!” a very old woman with a thick accent approached Ava, smiling.
Ava smiled back. “Hey, Miss Hernández. How are you? Need some help?” she pointed to the pile of boxes Ms. Hernández carried in a little cart.
The older one looked back and forth between the cart and Ava. “Oh, yes!”, she exclaimed after a few seconds, looking like she had forgotten about the cart the moment she looked at Ava. “I’m happy you’re here to help me, mi amor.”
Floramaría Hernández. She was the main reason why Ava came to this library so much, and the reason why she felt home here.
Ms. Hernández has Alzheimer's. She forgets everything, everyone... But Ava. I mean, she doesn't remember Ava as in her name and what they did last week. She remembers her as in “oh! You’re here again! I’m glad you’re back!”
And Ava knows why: Miss Hernández thinks she's her granddaughter. It was quite confusing at the beginning. It took Ava weeks to realise why the old woman acted so warm, and welcoming, and loving when she was around her, and it was even a little unsettling since she’s never experienced anything like that before. Now she loves it. Miss Hernández can't remember her name, but Ava doesn't care. She responds happily when Floramaría calls her Luna. Miss Hernández is her little piece of normalcy in the middle of the chaos that was her existence.
Maybe it's a little selfish, but Ava likes the fact that she's the only one Floramaría is able to “remember”. She has vivid memories of the day she went there to read C.J. Tudor's new book and found Miss Hernández with a young woman, who seemed to be in her early twenties. The girl was helping her organise the bookshelves.
Floramaría put the last book in its place and smiled, happy that the bookshelf was now properly organised and with dozens of new books. Her smile ceased when she looked at the much younger girl beside her.
She frowned. “Who are you?”
Ava saw the pain flashing through the girl’s eyes. It was just a split second, but it was impossible for Ava not to recognise it. She knew that pain very well, that feeling of being forgotten. “It’s me, abuela. Your granddaughter, Luna.”
“Oh.”, Floramaría answered, but there was no recognition nor epiphany in her voice. Yet, she would see Ava thirty seconds later and say “Ay, mi nieta! I was waiting for you!”. The actual Luna looked sad, but Ava couldn't bring herself to feel guilty for it, as evil as this may sound. Plus, she would forget that this happened the moment she looked away, so there wasn't really a good reason for Ava to be sad.
Back to the present. Ava took the cart and signaled for Floramaría to lead her.
“So, what are you going to read today, honey?”
“I’m not sure yet. Any recommendations?”
“Mmh, a lot.” Miss Hernandez thought for a bit as she walked across the bookshelves. “You like crime, right?”
Ava chuckled. “No, I don't like crimes. I like reading about crimes. I’m not very into crime-doing, though.”
“Ah, don't lie to me! I myself like crime a little bit.”
Ava gasped. “Miss Hernandez!”, she said, unbelieving.
“It’s true, it's true. I was a very good...” She paused, thinking of a word. “Thief! I was a very good thief.”
Ava’s jaw dropped. “You were a thief?”
“Ah, don't act like you never stole anything!” She shot her a knowing look and Ava looked away, remembering her thirty minute old most recent crime: payment avoidance. “I was a very talented tax evader back home.” Floramaría said, nonchalantly.
Well, at least their category of crime was alike.
Ava proceeded to listen to her stories for the entire afternoon while helping organise the bookshelves. She loved it when Miss Hernandez told her stories, even if she was just repeating one. Those were the only times she could experience what having an older relative tell you a story felt like.
It was already 19h when she went home. The Sun was set and the moon shone brightly. It was winter, so it was getting dark pretty early. Her fingers were tingling because of the cold. She blew hot air on her hands as she entered the hotel and walked into her room.
Ava’s house wasn't exactly a home, per se. Since she couldn't work, she couldn't afford a house, so her "home" was basically a random house whose owner wasn’t in town. Or a hotel room. Today it was a hotel room.
She opened the room’s door with the key she stole the day prior and went directly to the bathroom. I deserve a hot shower, she thought.
Ava let the hot water wash everything away. All of the pain, the frustration. Let the water fill her mind with brand new expectations and hopes. She left the bathroom feeling like a new person, she always did. It always feels like good baths can wash your soul along with the dirt.
She got dressed, brushed her teeth and checked if she had locked the door twice before going to bed.
Ava threw herself on the bed. Tomorrow will be a new day, she thought as she felt the sheets accommodate to her shape and the pillow swallow her head. It'll be different. Exhaustion won over her will to watch something and she fell asleep faster than she ever had.
“It’ll be different.”
It wasn't.
When she woke up the next day people still didn't remember her. She was still a ghost to society. And that also happened the next day. And the next. And the next, and the next, and the next.
Every day was still the same.
She was tired.
It was cold and her favourite coffee shop was closed, which left her with the coffee shop two blocks from where she was. It's not like she hated it there, but that left her frustrated. She hates it when things don't go the way she expects them to go.
Frozen and upset, she walked towards the other cafe, stopping by a rich young boy leaving his clearly million-dollars-worth car that his daddy gifted him with and furtively stealing the money that hung from his pocket. She’s sorry if she offends your ethical and/or moral compass.
Actually... she isn't.
It's not like she steals from people who need it. She steals from rich, arrogant people who are dicks. If you have enough money to wear only designer clothes and have the newest iPhone always on your hands, then you also have two hundred dollars sparing to pay for her coffee and someone else’s food.
Ava put twenty dollars in her pocket and gave the rest to the woman who was always sitting near there with her two kids. The woman smiled and Ava smiled back.
And back to walking. Why does it feel like the coffee shop is so far away? Maybe it's the cold weather making her lazy.
Ah, she'd rather be having her Macchiato at her favourite place right now, sipping on her drink slowly and carefully flipping the pages of the book she took home with her yesterday, after Miss Hernández told her all about her crusades. Then, she would look around and observe the people. She would see if the Agatha Christie Guy had made any progress. If the Stressed Writer Wannabe was still stressed. And then she would order another Macchiato, because it's cold and she deserves it.
She mourned her coffee for a few seconds. They made it in some weird way at the coffee shop she was going to: it was always a little too bitter.
When she realised, Ava was already standing by the place. She sighed as she stared at the glass door. She briefly debated leaving without her coffee. Emphasis on briefly.
After the quick internal battle for whether to go or not to go in, she decided that since she had put the effort into walking there all the way from the other coffee shop (two blocks), she deserved some coffee.
Ava went in and waited in line for a few minutes. She chanced a glance to the people behind the balcony. Three people. It wouldn't take them too long to make the orders, so she wouldn't have to wait for too long.
“Next”, one of the employees said.
Ava took a step. “Hi, good morning.”
A short blonde woman suddenly appeared behind the countertop. She was probably picking something that fell on the ground, but it was funny how it made it seem like she magically appeared. Like a fairy or something of sorts. She smiled brightly at Ava. “Morning!”
Let’s be honest: the woman was breathtaking. Ava was mesmerised. Her blue eyes reminded her of the ocean. Ava felt as if she would actually drown herself in her eyes if she stared for too long. Her freckles painted her face as gracefully as constellations painted the sky. Ava fought the urge to count the infinite dots.
“Ma’am?”, the woman interrupted Ava’s train of thought. “Are you alright?”, she asked, the polite smile still on her face.
And maybe Ava panicked a little.
“Huh? Oh, yes! Yes, I am. I’m- I’m sorry I just-”
Come on, Sharpe! She thought. Pull yourself together!
“It’s the cold weather. Makes me a little slow”, she said.
The smile on the other woman’s face grew a little bit. “Yeah, I get a little dizzy when I’m too cold too.”
Ava couldn't not smile back. She looked at the name tag hanging from the blonde’s shirt. “Sara Lance”. That’s a pretty name, Ava thought. Some long, torturous seconds passed until she realised she still hadn’t said her order.
Ava shook her head slightly, as if trying to clear it by tossing her thoughts away. “Oh, right! Can I have a-”
“Medium Caramel Macchiato with chocolate chips on top?”
Wow. That's a great employee. “Yes, please.”
“Name?”
“Ava”, she answered as she handed Sara the money and looked down at her phone screen.
It took her some seconds to realise what just happened, too busy pulling herself together to notice.
When it downed her her eyes shot up to the woman she now knew was called Sara, who was already making her order.
Well, I’ve never been more glad for robbing someone. Thanks Miss Hernández for the speech on Thief Pride.
Thousands of questions invaded her brain. What. The. Hell. She stared. For a little too long, maybe, because when she was finally able to get a grasp of the situation she realised that a pair of blue eyes were staring back at her.
Shit.
Sara chuckled at her and looked down to write Ava’s name on the cup. Weird, Sara thought as she looked up again and offered Ava her drink. A cute type of weird. “Here.”
“You remembered my order”, Ava deadpanned, effectively ignoring the cup of coffee.
“Yeah, I mean… you came here last week and I heard you order this four times in a row. It's not something easy to forget, you know”, she said in a playful tone.
But Ava didn’t laugh, no. To say Ava was shocked was an understatement. She was catatonic.
“How...” Her voice cracked with the effort she was putting into not sounding too emotional. She felt like screaming, jumping, running. She was feeling too much, and it was blurring all of her other senses.
Sara couldn't understand why she was acting like that, so she ignored it. Ava is glad she did.
“Perks of having great memory. I can remember a lot of things.”
Sara was about to ask her if she really was feeling well again and offer her some water when Ava was finally able to get out of her state of pure stupefaction and take her Macchiato from her hands.
“Thank you” Ava murmured.
She left the coffee shop before Sara could say anything else.
You're a little weird, lady, Sara thought as she saw Ava walk away. I’ll forgive you cause you’re pretty.
And went back to her day, serving other customers.
Ava, otherwise, did not go back to her day. She was not fine.
What the fuck did just happen.
How did Sara remember her? Why?
Nothing made sense anymore. She thought anyone was able to remember her. How did this happen? And of all people, why Sara, someone she didn’t even know existed before today?
And how was she that unlucky? Billions of people in the world and she embarrassed herself in front of the only person that was able to remember who she was, the one person she couldn't embarrass herself to.
She mentally facepalmed. “The cold weather makes me a little slow". What kind of excuse is that, Sharpe? Oh, God. I stared at her like a creep. I probably looked like a weirdo or something. She was probably freaked out. Oh, no, I freaked her out. I freaked out the only person who can remember me. What have I done? I’ll never be able to get coffee here anymore. And I like their Latte. Where am I gonna buy coffee when my favourite cafe is closed now? My life just became 80% sadder. I’m so stupid.
When her mind stopped running 100km per second, she noticed she had put herself on autopilot and walked to the public park of the city. She sighed and looked for a bench to sit on. Ava let the feeling of being surrounded by nature slowly calm her down.
That was when Ava realised she hadn't even touched her Macchiato yet. She noticed something and smiled while looking at the top of her coffee. The chocolate chips were tidy in a little heart shape. Ava felt a spark of warmth hit her heart. She didn't know what that meant. Cute, she thought.
Ava drank it slowly while taking in her surroundings, feeling the cold air make the tip of her nose feel funny. The Macchiato wasn't bitter this time. Maybe the little heart sweetened it up. The chilly weather made a great contrast with the hot coffee.
She watched an old couple share a meal under a tree and smiled. Old people in love are cute.
She watched a little boy attempt at climbing a tree and fail. And saw a man who was too young to be his dad help him climb it. Maybe his older brother. They were cute, too.
Life is beautiful when you know where to look. Paying attention to those specific, intimate yet so public moments made Ava happy. She loved people watching. It was one of the things that made her feel a little better whenever she felt sad.
She did go back to her day, after all.
Ava tried to take a sip of her coffee, but no coffee came in the straw. She looked down at her now empty cup and saw her name on it. “Ava ;)”. Winky face included. Ava chuckled to herself.
The winky face reminded her of the person who made her coffee: Sara. And that made all of her doubts from earlier come back, except she didn't feel as threatened as she did before. Maybe it was a one time thing that Sara remembered her. Maybe it wasn't. Regardless of whether it was or wasn't a one time thing, she wouldn't be able to change it, anyways, so she chose to try and tranquilise herself, letting the joy of being remembered fill her body again.
When finally calmed herself down, she had an epiphany. Someone remembered her. Someone remembered her. Technically, she could have the things she wished for now, right? A friend! She could have a friend!
That is… if she didn't scare her away with all of the creepy staring.
Well, she kept living all of those years with hope. It wasn't gonna be today that that hope was gonna be crushed by reality, right?
Ava stayed at the park for hours, debating whether or not she would go back to that coffee shop tomorrow. She debated with herself, made a pros and cons list, rehearsed what she could say.
As she watched the sunset, she realised it was probably time for her to go home. She would go to the library tomorrow to help Miss Hernández with the books and tell her the news, maybe ask for some advice. Floramaría was indeed like a grandma to her.
Ava walked home, cup still in her hands. She didn't throw it in the trash. Instead, she decided to wash it and put it on her bedside table. She did the exact same things she did the day prior. It was a ritual, in some way. When you don't know where you’re gonna sleep tomorrow or if someone will magically decide that they’re gonna inspect the room and find a person who most definitely didn't pay to be there lying on the bed, it's good to have something that you’re sure that will happen. The repetitiveness was comforting.
Ava lied down and stared at the ceiling for some minutes, happier than ever. She thought about all the possibilities, everything she thought she could never have, and that now could be possible. Ava had made up her mind: she would go back there tomorrow.
But… well, today is indeed a new day. And with the new day, new worries grew and tightened in her chest, making her feel a little breathless.
The coffee shop was there, right in front of her, inviting her in. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to move.
Doubts, doubts, and more doubts. What if she doesn't want to see me? What if I did scare her away? God, what if she doesn't remember me anymore?
She was on the verge of crying, really.
And then someone called her.
“Ava?” The tone was unsure, as if the person wasn't sure that was actually her name.
Ava looked for the owner of the voice and quickly found them: a little blonde standing by a big trash can. She wasn't able to panic: she was too busy thinking about how funny it was that the trash can was bigger than Sara. She concentrated on trying not to laugh.
“Hi”, she remembered to reply this time.
Sara walked in her direction. “I thought I had scared you away. You know, with the whole memorising your order thing.”
Ava thought it was adorable that she thought she scared her away.
“Oh, no. I thought I had scared you away with all the... staring.” Sara nodded in acknowledgement.
“Yup. That was a little weird, but no big deal. Tough day?”
Ava thought for a while. “You could say that.”
Sara hummed in response. “So... you’re gonna order something?”, she asked, already walking in while looking at Ava. “You know, so the cold doesn't make you slow.” She smiled.
Ava couldn't help but smile too. “Well, you already know my order.” She replied, walking in too.
“On it.”
And just like that, Ava had a new favourite coffee shop.