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It was a running joke, almost, how god awful her memory was. Her mother fondly said she got it from her father, and her father would only laugh and shake his head. “No. honey! That’s your mother’s side all there!” In the end, Taylor Hebert couldn’t decide what branch of the family to blame. She accepted it as fact; having an awful memory at the age of eighteen sucked. It’d get worse with age and her parents would laugh at the misery of it all, until eventually it’d become worrisome.
She wouldn’t have to worry about that at least for another couple of years. For now, she was eighteen and haunting the inbetween of a life after high school and a life before college. The air felt different , but not enough to stir nostalgia in her stomach.
Her best friend, Emma Barnes, left for a summer in a foreign country a week after graduation. As she packed her duffle bag and suitcases into the back of her family’s car, she promised to keep in touch through every and any media. Taylor said nothing, reciprocating the tight hug Emma brought her into. She took one last good look at the stretch of red curls and green eyes in a feverish attempt to hold onto fainting memories. Someday, Taylor would be twenty-one with her legs dangling from her shitty twin-sized bed in a college campus hours away, photos of Emma Barnes on her walls. They wouldn’t speak as much, but Taylor liked to close her eyes and silently recite her features. She’d forget some of it. She would have to start memorizing now.
They’d been separated before; Taylor went to summer camp most of middle school and high school. Emma vacationed frequently throughout the year for months at a time. It felt different this time, and the emphasis on a promise to not say goodbye only enforced the strange feelings within her.
They’d kept the promise, but Taylor knew it would change. They’d been best friends since elementary, inseparable. Taylor would go to college in the fall in some sleepy town away from Brockton Bay while Emma took a gap year to figure out what she wanted and to pursue artistic endeavors.
In the meantime, Taylor needed cash. And fast.
Having an English professor as her mom had some perks. Like discounts in obscure, indie bookstores sprawled across the boardwalk. Her mother was awfully close to one of its owners- a store with a title too cliche, Taylor always cringed. After a lengthy conversation on a random Tuesday afternoon, Taylor Hebert had a job. In her Spring semester, she began picking up four-hour shifts after school. When she graduated, she opted for the full forty hours a week.
It was peaceful work. Taylor liked it, because the owner was polite enough and distant enough that Taylor did not have to engage in small talk. There were other coworkers, old enough that it would be awkward to hang out after work. The location was also favorable- it was a good ten minute walk from home. Brockton Bay was safe , and crime never happened in a city like hers. Albeit a heavy tourist attraction, it was a pleasant experience to hear the crashing of waves upon shoreline as the smell of salt water greeted each step. The pay wasn’t awful, and so Taylor hoped to hold down her job until the week before she left for college.
That was her life now; an eighteen year old working in a bookstore with a godawful memory, counting down the days until they moved out.
When Lisa Wilbourn entered her life, that was all her life was. Nothing more, nothing less. She was normal, another drop in the sea, another speck in a galaxy. Taylor Hebert was nothing but a girl with a lifetime of dreams and memories that would cease to exist someday.
She met Lisa Wilbourn one late Tuesday afternoon. The bookshop’s owner was gone for the week; something about hoping to catch the sight of a seasonal attraction somewhere down south. Her coworker left early after an unfortunate incident with undercooked chicken and sweet tea that didn’t mix well. Taylor was okay holding down the fort, because Brockton Bay was safe . Besides, an elderly coworker was in the back tracking down inventory, so she wasn’t alone.
At first glance, Lisa didn’t look odd. No, Taylor didn’t pay much attention to the teenage girl as she wandered in an hour before closing. Instead, Taylor stayed by the cashier, engrossed in a conversation with Emma. She only looked up occasionally to make sure Lisa was fine.
She looked fine, anyway. With blonde hair up in a bun with two strands framing her freckled face and a pair of green eyes that rivaled Emma’s, Taylor chalked her up to be one of the girls Taylor could never be. They always had a sense of confidence around them, unparalleled as they marched through the world. Taylor’s mom once confided in her that it was the pretty girls in golden capes that kept the world running round, and it stuck with Taylor. She always put Emma in the category of a pretty girl, and the stranger was no exception. Taylor’s gaze lingered on her movements, the way she cocked her head to the side and squinted her eyes to read descriptions scribbled onto shelves. She looked down at her outfit- modest with subdued tones of color. The sight of the blonde reading the back of a book cover flooded her with nostalgia, as if this sight was nothing new.
Taylor’s memory was awful. Perhaps this customer was a regular, maybe someone on their second time back. Unlike her other coworkers who thrived on remembering previous customers and sparking conversation, Taylor chose to pray no one would be offended. So far, it was working.
When the blonde was done, she walked up to Taylor.
A new feeling stirred in her stomach. Unsure if it was worth labeling, Taylor took the two books and scanned them. A young adult book about superheroes and another about a man with two souls- good selections, really. Taylor was getting around to the second novel.
“Do you remember me?”
Taylor blinked, cursing her bad luck.
“Sorry, memory issues.” Taylor clicked her tongue, wincing. It was better to admit than to outright lie. Maybe she could score some sympathy points. “I’ve had this thing, actually. I can’t remember things and faces and it sucks.”
The girl didn’t look offended as Taylor pushed both books into a bag. Instead, she handed her a twenty-dollar bill.
“Did you find everything okay?” Taylor asked out of custom while she counted her change.
The blonde looked up, a smile forming across freckled skin.
“Of course. And what thing, if it’s not intrusive to ask?” She cocked her head to the side, the smile not leaving.
“I’m not, like, medically diagnosed. I just have a god awful memory.” Taylor babbled. “Ever since I was a kid, my mom said I had the memory of an eight-year old man. My dad would always reply, “No! His memory would be better!” and I kind of just accepted it.”
The girl snickered, grabbing the change and stuffing it into her wallet. She grabbed the books next and nodded in understanding.
“I wish I could forget stuff. Is that offensive to say?”
“Not to me.” She shrugged. “Maybe when I’m older. It’s funny now, I think. Being eighteen with this awful memory.”
“Well, my name is Lisa Wilbourn. Try not to forget it until I come back, okay?”
“Taylor Hebert. No promises.”
She would repeat the name Lisa Wilbourn under her breath at least three times until she realized she was late to close up. By the time she was done counting the money in the register and depositing her drop, she’d forgotten Lisa Wilbourn’s name.
Lisa Wilbourn kept true to her promise and arrived an hour before closing the next week. Much like last time, Taylor couldn’t remember her name. If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it.
Instead the blonde kept her company until closing. Taylor didn’t mind, noting the colorful book in Lisa’s hand.
“Another superhero story?”
“You remember that but not my name?” Lisa’s brow raised slightly. She puffed her chest in indignation before smirking. “Yeah, I guess my friend was always into the superhero shtick. I’m more of a villain enthusiast myself.”
Taylor grinned.
“We have some stories down in that section,” Taylor pointed with her thumb. “I think you’ll like them. If you’re more into the villain thing.”
Lisa nodded.
“Do you like superhero stories? I sort of put you down as the type to be more into history books, but I’m open to being wrong.”
A shrug.
“A balance, I think. The superhero genre is fun to read. Personally, I have a soft spot for them, though I’ve been reading more history.”
“Figured.” An all knowing smile that sent a shiver down Taylor’s spine. “I know a little bit of everything. I’m pretty good at reading people.”
“Prove it.” Taylor was bored, and Lisa was entertaining. Besides, there was no harm in a teenager who probably claimed she could psychoanalyze you in seconds.
“You like tea over coffee. You mentioned your mom before- she pushed you to read more classics and history books until you realized you actually liked it. Weird dynamic there, sometimes. You get a feeling that something is wrong so you count down details in your head and try to remember. Is this right, or is this wrong? Sometimes, you swear you remember and yet you get proved wrong. Something’s off and you blame your memory. You have a best friend or a lover you desperately miss, and you glance at your phone every five seconds to check if they texted. Also, your smile is very lovely.”
Taylor blinked. Lisa’s smile grew wider.
“Anyway, thanks for the book recommendations. I gotta go, but I’ll be back to check them out. Oh, and before you forget,” Lisa winked. “Name’s Lisa.”
Lisa left before Taylor could begin to understand what Lisa had said.
It took three more visits for Taylor to remember Lisa’s face. By now, they’d develop some of a routine- Lisa came an hour before closing and talked to Taylor until she was forced to leave. Taylor was not the type to open up and yet Lisa was so easy to speak to. She found herself talking about all the little things that shaped her in the last decade- tidbits of childhood and stories of Emma and her parents. Sometimes, she spoke about college and going away to find herself.
None of her coworkers minded Lisa’s presence, and some even teased it was sweet Taylor found a new friend. Taylor ignored the comments, secretly hoping she’d walk outside to Lisa waiting for her.
She never did. Not until Taylor said Lisa’s name as soon as she walked in.
Seeing Lisa leaning against a streetlight as she waited for Taylor to leave made her heart race. Lisa was grinning- almost fox-like. She looked Taylor up and down, a thoughtful, “Hmph”, escaping her lips as she walked closer.
Taylor’s cheeks reddened and she felt fifteen again.
“Want to go out to eat? My treat.” Lisa offered.
“Not tonight,” Taylor shook her head. “Mom is making her famous lasagna.”
“I thought you said it was your dad’s favorite lasagna.”
Taylor blinked.
“Oh, bad memory.”
They continued walking down the boardwalk, the sun’s thrashing rays bidding goodbye to the two girls. Taylor stole glances at Lisa. If Lisa noticed, she said nothing. Her eyes were set forward, the wind blowing her blonde ponytail behind. Taylor took in the sight and memorized the constellations across her skin, counting freckles through stolen glances.
“But yeah, I’d like to meet up.”
“Sometime this week?”
“Tomorrow works.”
“I need to see you write it down.” Lisa teased. “Actually, I’ll text you.”
Lisa had her number? They probably swapped it last week when Taylor sent her a link to a new book series she was looking forward to. That made sense. She pushed rising doubts and nodded.
“I’ll write it down, calm down.” She paused. “Hey, uh, Lisa. Do you want to walk me home? My house is the way we’re going, and-”
“I don’t think you should walk alone.” Lisa admitted.
“The city is safe.” Taylor remembered briefly Lisa spoke of moving in a couple of months ago. She was new to Brockton Bay, a safe haven away from the chaos of the world. It was the perfect place, her mother dwelled, to settle down and raise a child. “You can come, though.”
Lisa frowned. She said nothing, walking alongside Taylor.
Flashes of cities crumpled in ashes disturbed Taylor for the rest of her walk, but she could never place the flashes of gold and their origin.
They talk a bit more outside of her house. Taylor noticed the porch light on before the front door opened, and Lisa stopped talking excitedly about something in a book she read. Her dad stepped out with a mug in his hand, curiosity written on his face as he looked at Lisa. He smiled politely, taking the steps down to greet them.
“Hello, Mr. Hebert. My name’s Lisa.” Lisa stretched out her hand for him to shake. “I wanted to walk Taylor home after work.”
“Please call me Danny.” He looked at Taylor with fondness. “It’s nice to meet you, we’ve heard about you before.”
Taylor blushed for the second time.
“Oh, really? Good things I hope.”
“Of course. Are you staying for dinner? I made lasagna.”
Lisa shook her head, apologizing.
“I’m sorry, I would love to. I have to get home and see my family though.” Lisa sighed. “Hey, maybe next week?”
“That’d be great! We’d love to have you.”
Danny left after confirming with Lisa. Taylor watched silently, nothing the way Lisa stared as Danny walked back up and shut the door. There was some sadness there, Taylor felt. Something broken in Lisa.
“So dinner with your parents and you haven’t bought me dinner.” Lisa laughed.
Taylor liked her laugh. It felt like warmth itself. So familiar and so new. So pure. It wasn't terrifying, she realized. Lisa’s laugh was nice.
“Tomorrow.” Taylor reminded.
“You know.” Lisa tilted her head, looking up. Stars coated the night sky. So many stars. It was beautiful, heavenly. And somehow, stars would always instill a sense of fear in Taylor.
More flashes. More memories. Specks. Nothing but ants to mere-
Lisa’s voice brought her to reality.
“I tried speaking to you before the summer. It never worked out,” Lisa turned to Taylor. “I was thinking of giving up on it.”
“Why?”
“It never ended well for us before.” A pained smile.
Another memory. Flashes of gold and suddenly all Taylor could feel was the licking of flames. Rage burned within her chest as she raged , a city in ashes under her wake.
Lisa was gone when the memory stopped. Taylor counted the stars that seemed a little too bright that night for a little longer.
Taylor was losing her mind. Yes, her memory issues led to an actual decline in her well-being. She was sure of it, because she could swear she remembered her mother’s middle name and her dad’s favorite color since the age of five. Somehow, the answers were all wrong. There were photos in albums of memories she didn’t have. There were things, stories Emma referred to growing in volume that Taylor could not remember.
She was losing it. That was the best explanation.
When Taylor met Lisa the next day, Lisa was typing away on a laptop. She waved at Taylor, gesturing to the electronic.
“Hey. I was just writing some notes.”
“On?”
“A story I’m writing.” She closed the laptop and put it in her tote bag. Smiling, she clasped her hands together and looked at Taylor. “Everything alright?”
Taylor bit her lip.
“No. Tell me about your story, please.”
“It’s about a girl.” Lisa chose her words carefully. “A girl who wanted to be a hero. She ends up joining a group of supervillains and finding comfort there. The world is on fire and they’re together. She does the wrong things for all the right reasons. A play on paving the road to hell with good intentions.”
“That sounds-”
“And it’s not just about her, actually. See, in the grand scheme of things, she plays a huge role in a chain of events and affects everyone around her. I’m not sure if I can describe it right, but it’s going to be a huge story. Hell, I’m even thinking of a sequel about a side character being the lead who’s trying to find her path in a post first book world.”
“That’s ambitious.”
“That’s how I operate!” Lisa propped her chin on her hands, beaming. “What’s up, Taylor?”
How is it that Lisa knew? She wished she could unwind and unravel her truths, that she could confide in Lisa about the flashes of gold that paralyzed her. She ached to tell her of the stories she knew, how little things in her life never added up. How her best friend grew insistent on events that never quite happened, how she would wake and find a photograph that wasn’t there before to cause her doubts. How her memories weren’t hers, how her world stilled and froze and nothing felt real.
Lisa felt real, though. Staring into her green eyes and counting the freckles (fifteen, Taylor repeated like a silent prayer.), Taylor knew Lisa would be a consistent factor. There was something familiar about her, like a story Taylor read once when she was in the second grade and forgot. Fuzzy details emerged and she could piece enough to make something cohesive. The only thing missing was the title- the name of it all.
“I’ve been thinking a lot.” Taylor slouched, sighing. She feigned interest in the menu, well aware of Lisa’s burning gaze. “A lot of things don’t quite make sense.”
“As they usually don’t.”
“It’s different, Lisa.”
“How?”
“Like,” She lowered her voice. “It’s not all real. Little things aren’t adding up. I’m scared my memory is getting worse- that I’m sick.”
Lisa’s brows furrowed. She pushed the menu away, nails tapping against her table.
“You’re not sick.”
“How would you know?”
“I know stuff.”
“Then you would know-”
“No, I don’t.”
They said nothing else of that matter. Lisa didn’t push the topic and Taylor couldn’t find the weight of her words. Instead, Taylor focused on the smaller things, like how Lisa double-dipped her fries unapologetically and spoke rapidly of things that interested her. She liked her vulpine smile- the fox-like trait some might find intimidating. Taylor didn’t. It was comforting, almost. Trusting, somehow.
She could spend a lifetime under dim lights and flickering signs tucked in a booth with Lisa Wilbourn. The afternoon drew on and she almost forgot about the things that kept her up at night.
Almost .
When Lisa shows up to her front porch with a basket of fresh cookies, Taylor Hebert smiled.
Taylor had been deep-knee into college forms; pre-collegiate surveys testing her abilities in English and Math. Books littered green bed sheets, notebooks with notes scrawled about majors and minors and checklists on top. June was near its end and July was wasting no time in rushing in. August would come soon and Taylor would be gone.
She wondered what Lisa would do. She was a college student, a rising sophomore working a nine to five in a finance internship her father set up. She didn’t like it, but she also didn’t hate it. She lamented she’d never been given a chance to explore. She went to college in a city on the other side of the country, somewhere in a city where you clutched your purse and never walked at night.
Would they keep in touch? Or were they a thing only in between breaks? Maybe Lisa would visit; Taylor could imagine laying under fairy lights while Lisa ranted about her economics class. Maybe Taylor could swing by; would Lisa welcome her into her life?
For now, though, they ate dinner with her parents.
Lisa knew the right things to say. She talked highly of classic literature that made her mother swoon. She even spoke of politics, discussing briefly on everything Brockton Bay was doing right with Danny. More than eager to talk, they spent over two hours before Taylor could sneak Lisa upstairs.
“I think your parents like me.” Lisa remarked as she bit into a plate of leftover cookies.
“Well, mom did invite you to audit one of her lectures.” Taylor winced. “So yeah, they do. Anyway, how’s your writing going?”
“Good, I’m in the arc you really liked.” Lisa paused, pushing the laptop to Taylor. “Here’s a peak.”
Taylor spent time earlier in between breaks of her own work to read Lisa’s novel. It was a first copy, and Lisa was hopeful she’d finish by the time Taylor would go to college. There was so much to write, so little time. Lisa was eager to put in the work.
She was enjoying it so far. Taylor wondered if Lisa had a future in writing. She could imagine it. She suggested it once, and Lisa sighed.
“I only have one good story to tell.”
It was about a girl with powers over bugs. The world hadn’t been nice to her; her mother was dead and her best friend became her bully. She roamed in a city of ghosts as the world bled out. She kept it together, cutting strings and giving bits and pieces away.
“I hope you get to finish it before I leave.”
“I do, too.”
“Tell me how it ends.”
Lisa shook her head, ponytail swinging to the side.
“No, not yet.”
Summer comes and goes in the blink of an eye. Taylor spent her days working in the bookstore and her afternoons with Lisa. Lisa spent her days away from Taylor, and Lisa wrote at night by her side. Lisa watched over Taylor’s shoulder as she registered for the Fall, and Taylor ignored the gut feeling the world was ending.
Even her memory was getting better. She chose to believe those around her; why would her family lie? Why would Emma, so far away, mess with her? Lisa never contradicted her, either. So she gave in and believed blindly, because that was what was best.
She spent her free time daydreaming. Over tea mugs and french fries, she drew the characters Lisa wrote of so many times. A girl with dark curls and glasses stared at her back and Taylor thought nothing of the familiarity. A girl with blonde curls in all white who could fly. An older girl with a frown on her face and beasts surrounding her. A boy with a hand outstretched and darkness around him. A boy with curls and a white, frilly shirt with a crown on his head. A girl, someone she forgot so many times, with a gray mask
Last was another blonde with a vulpine smile and scarred lips.
She found herself drawing Lisa more. She wasn’t the best, definitely far from it. She enjoyed it, and Lisa encouraged her as she flipped the pages.
Her last shift was scheduled at the end of the week. She’d have a week to herself, and Lisa was close to finishing her novel. They had a plan to head to the beach for the weekend, and they’d play in arcades and count stars while laughing at the sunset.
“I’m nearly done, Tay!” Lisa spoke over the phone as Taylor eyed a customer passing by. Lisa didn’t visit on Wednesdays; something about her dad being stern with family dinners. “I’m hoping you get to read the last pages by tomorrow.”
“Already?”
“Yes! I’ll revise it, obviously, but! I’ll finish soon! In the meantime, though, do you remember what I said? That I only had one good story to tell?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I finally finished that one good story. And I hope the ending is enough to be remembered.”
She did finish soon.
The next day, Lisa Wilbourn sent a link with a text.
Let me know if the ending sticks.
Taylor read. She poured over the final pages with an aching heart. She didn’t speak to Lisa until the end, when she texted her as the night crawled in.
Have some questions. Stop by the shop tomorrow? Cake tomorrow to celebrate.
“I know you have questions.” The blonde began the next day. She’d wandered in the last hour of Taylor’s shift. She’d miss the cake, and Taylor tucked a piece away in a box for her. She’d forgotten to label it, because of course she did. “But I need to tell you the truth; the way it is. I’ve been working all summer to confess.”
“I have been to every universe. I have untangled every timeline, looking for one where we end up together. Where it’s Lisa and Taylor, Taylor and Lisa.” She smiled sadly. “So much time, so many stars. So many lifetimes, so many almosts.”
The blonde pushed a strand of hair aside.
"Someday, someone will remember us. That's what comforted me. You were brave and scared and you were taken away. They ended your story so early."
“In one lifetime, nothing bad has happened to us yet. We are thirteen and we are okay, the world isn’t on fire and you meet love. In another lifetime, you forgot everything at the expense of peace .” She continued. “Lifetime after lifetime, I’ve been there untangling it all. I’ve been looking for a version of you that’s most ideal , most healed. Where we could thrive, where it could be us.”
She looked up at Taylor’s face twisted in confusion before horror settled in.
“And the irony is that, in this lifetime, you will be at the most healed. Nothing bad has happened to you yet and the world around you is safe. I could become part of your world overtime, but it doesn’t matter.”
She was on the verge of tears now, and she rubbed an eye at a feeble attempt to push the waterworks back for another second. She bit back a laugh until she drew blood, and a smile betrayed chapped lips.
“And the irony? The irony is that you were never supposed to remember me. Not in this lifetime. Because you can’t, because they wrote your life out like that. I can find you and tell you of our existence a thousand and one times and you will always find ways to forget me.”
“I’m sorry,” Taylor paused. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“But Taylor, I- I think this is it. I told you my story- your story. Everything. Our story. This thing I wrote, it’s all us. It’s all that’s ever happened to us. The truth is Brockton Bay was never safe. You were a hero and then a villain and then a hero and then labels meant nothing. The world ended and cut strings. You gave it all up, you gave us up. I have tried so many times to tell you, and none have worked. This…this is another attempt.”
Silence.
She looked up, Taylor’s face pale.
“Look, do I know you?” Taylor’s grip tightened on the cash register. “Because you’re scaring me. I’m scared.”
The blonde’s smile faltered. She exhaled, nodding slowly. Taylor caught the sight of trembling fingers, as the girl grabbed her shopping bag and gazed at Taylor with something she could only pin down as yearning years later.
“No, I guess you don’t.”
She left before Taylor could gather her thoughts. With a racing heart beat, determination coursed through her veins as she weakly attempted to follow after. She called out the girl’s name, and the name of Lisa Wilbourn rolled off her tongue as if she spent lifetimes herself reciting and mourning and praising her name. In that moment, in the moment Lisa Wilbourn missed by a fraction of a second, the existence of Lisa Wilbourn sparked in Taylor Hebert’s mind. She was too late as she reached into a crowded street, no blonde ponytail in sight. Memories of anchors and the buzzing of insects poured like an open wound and the memories cried.
They’d never see each other again.
Sometime next week, Taylor gave a final good look at her childhood home. She pushed the last of her boxes inside the car and waved at her parents. In the time between now and then, the memory of Lisa Wilbourn was a fickle one.
By the time she unpacked the sketchbooks with Lisa’s face decorating tattered pages and a novel written by a girl with fifteen freckles, she’d forgotten the memory of Lisa Wilbourn.