I Remember

4. Day of apprehension

There isn't much to say, so Grey and I don't say anything at all. We clean up after ourselves, washing the dishes, putting things away, and tucking the leftovers in the fridge for later. Silence is a constant throughout.

"We'll find a way to fix this," she promises in a whisper as I head towards the door to leave. I nod in agreement, but we both know that it's going to take more than our own efforts to make things better.

I Remember small people winning against big odds, but I don't know if I have the luck or the wit to recreate such an instance in my own life. It's good to have courage and to be strong, but clinging to hope is hard.

This is the reason why I respect the people whose memories I carry. They're often greater than I, prevailing despite their circumstances.

It's also why I feel sick to my very core when I consider losing them. If I do nothing, I waste the opportunity to protect what I believe in. If I step up and act, I likely die a martyr. Either way, memories are lost and the past is forgotten.

With danger seeming so real and imminent, it's difficult to get to sleep. I know that it's late, and I can't deny the fact that I'm exhausted, and yet I still toss and turn for about an hour before finally drifting off.

When I wake up in the morning, however, nothing seems quite as bad as it did the night before. I'm still worried about the changes that are going to be made in the world of Remembering, but I'm not sure if it's as serious as Grey and I thought it to be. Grey might've misunderstood some of the intentions shared at her meeting, and perhaps Danny Thrush isn't the conniving man we assumed him to be.

It might be due to the ten o'clock sunlight streaming past my curtains, but I want to look on the bright side. I doubt sleeping helped to make Grey so optimistic. I actually wonder if she slept at all.

Even though it's almost lunchtime, I make myself some coffee and think while waiting for it to brew. No grand solutions for the conundrum come to mind, just a sense of frustration at how little I know. I do trust Grey, but her word is all I have to go on.

Unfortunately, this is one instance in which I can't glean wisdom from the past. The topic of trust is too unreliable, too different from memory to memory and person to person. If I had to make a generalization, however, it would be that no one person can be trusted entirely. But that's not a trend that I want to consider, especially when it comes to Grey.

I'm pouring myself a cup of coffee when the phone rings. It's a normal sound, and yet I nearly drop my mug and jump out of my skin. Though I admit that things don't seem as hopeless as they did last night, my nerves are just as frazzled as ever.

I breathe deeply, stilling the sudden increase in my heartrate, and grab my phone from its normal perch, the coffee table in the living room. I only use it for business and the occasional message from Grey. She texts me more reminders than I care to know, always about things that I cannot forget. I'd originally just wanted it to be my work phone, but leaving me notes on paper didn't work out so well, so she forced me to allow communication on something I wouldn't misplace.

The call is from an unknown number, but that's nothing unusual. I only have a few contacts saved: my regulars and Grey. Since this one must be for business, I collect myself for a moment before answering. "This is Harvey West."

"Hello again, Harvey! Danny Thrush here. How are you today?" Thrush's voice is very chipper, annoyingly so. Others would likely classify him as upbeat or pleasant, but I haven't had my coffee yet, so I'm a little more cynical than perhaps I ought to be.