The Memo Novels & Stories

ALEX The office felt colder tonight. It wasn’t the temperature but the heavy silence, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. My sanctuary, once a place of focus and strategy, now felt suffocating, like the walls were pressing in on me. I sat behind my desk, nursing a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid catching the dim light from the desk lamp. Ricardo’s face haunted me—his smug smirk, his piercing eyes. The encounter at the mall was brief, but it had triggered memories I’d worked hard to bury. The way he said “ just surprising an old friend”

I mumbled as I stared at his dark nearly black eye lids that made him look tired. The sigh that the doctor made told me that he didn’t approve of my observation. “Bella we are trying to get your memories back. So I need you to try.” He said as he handed me the card. “I did try.” I grumbled. “It’s a brown bear.” He stated as he picked up another card. I pressed my lip because there were too many things in the world and I couldn’t know what they all were if I had only two weeks of memories.

He had been learning to trust it since a library carrel on the third floor. When I reached the board minutes he looked at the screen for a long time. When I reached the signed memo he had already read it. Anchor Research had given him the financial disclosure documents but not the memo. The memo was new to him. I watched him read it from the second row. I watched his jaw work in the specific way it worked when something was moving through his body before his words caught up, and I watched him hold it, and I watched him not look to the far wall where his father was standing.

I said. He nodded, stood, and went to the door, and I looked at the city outside and thought about Thursday evening and writing it down and Dee in the house but not in the room and the lamb, whether I wanted it or not. Both things true. Everything complicated and simple at the same time. *** At four thirty Claire knocked. She came in and put a single sheet of paper on my desk. I looked at it. The Raymond memo. Ready to send. I read it again. Still perfect. Still warm inside the formality. Still the exact right thing.

Please forget me. From, Mariko

The city outside the glass walls glows faintly, but inside, the air feels sharper, like the moment before a blade is drawn. I hear the office door open behind me. “You’re in my chair.” His voice is calm. I don’t turn immediately. “Only temporarily.” I finish scanning the log before looking at him. “You have a leak.” That gets his attention. He closes the door. Slowly. “Explain.” I stand and hand him the tablet. “The acquisition memo was accessed and forwarded before official release. Two minutes early.” “Two minutes is irrelevant.” “Not when it hits the press.” His gaze sharpens.

“Your notes?” “I have three messages,” Stephen says, laying three files on the desk, “which I’ve deemed important enough for you to address today. The rest can wait.” Victor nods in dismissal, but Stephen ventures, “Coffee, sir?” Victor smiles up at his friend. “Yes, Stephen,” he says. “Thank you, that sounds great.” Stephen returns the smile and heads to the kitchen. The top folder contains only one piece of paper – a memo. SATURDAY, 4:53 PM

I was confused by the text he sent as I read it again. Wayne: Thank you again for saving my daughter last night. She was much calmer and we spoke to her for a while, but she didn't seem to remember you when your name came up. I know this might be hard but considering what she has been through it would be best if you give her a couple of days to recover. I can’t tell for sure how long it will take for the memories to come back. I hope you understand. Wayne

"Why is your phone not connecting?" Before I could answer, he continued, "Anyway, I've got the holiday prep all sorted. Anything else you want? I'll have my assistant grab it." His words triggered a memory: the year Mamie died. I'd gone home, but on Christmas Eve, I video-called him to wish him happy holidays. It took ages for him to answer; the screen was dark at first, showing only a fading ember from his cigarette. "Yeah?" he rasped. As the screen adjusted to the light, I saw he was alone on the balcony, surrounded by scattered bottles and cigarette butts. Outside, the world was alive with lights and fireworks, but that joy seemed worlds away from him.

Weston and Skullz are already on their bikes waiting to lead us to the doctor's office. Remi's POV Blaze and Aiden play Rock, Paper, Scissors; trying to decide who will give me back my first set of memories. Neither of them wanting to upset me. The agreement was that we'd do the memory exchange at Dr. Trenton's office. Just incase I had issues with them.