The Memory Collectors by Kim Neville

Author:Kim Neville [Neville, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2021-03-16T00:00:00+00:00

25

Owen has repaired Harriet’s mug. Sometime in the last few days, its three pieces were glued back together, the seams now almost invisible. She left it on the towel, broken, intending to fix it ever since Ev’s first visit, but never getting to it. Harriet lives in the realm of good intentions. Owen, on the other hand, makes things happen. Harriet moves through her apartment, taking stock of all the other marks he has made: cobwebs swept away from corners and light fixtures, the last of the boxes stacked tidily down the hallway, kitchen tiles and appliances scrubbed down. Not only will she vacate in time, she might even get some of her damage deposit back. It’s been a long time since Harriet has felt so cared for. So understood. She strokes the mug, trying to rekindle the burst of warmth it gave her when she first discovered it whole. Her chest remains cold. This is the push and pull of the last few weeks, fear and joy in equal measure.

She picks up her evening’s burden and locks the door behind her. Night hangs heavy on her shoulders as she sits outside on the concrete steps, waiting. She aches all over. In her head, from the press of a million memories and the weight of the secrets she carries. At the base of her spine, from too much bending. The grinding, relentless change is wearing her down. For days, Harriet has felt wrong. Wobbly on the inside. Unbalanced. She was so snippy with Evelyn’s sister earlier. She’s not sure why, exactly—perhaps because she’s easily irritated of late, perhaps because she doesn’t trust Noemi’s motives.

She glances at the small shopping bag next to her, wiping her hands on her thighs, grateful to get some distance from it. She doesn’t need any additional agitation. The soft weight of Frédérique at her hip reminds her of his hiding place in her jacket pocket. A tiny swell of calm settles Harriet’s shoulders as she strokes his velvet head. She waits and wonders. Will she survive the change she’s forced upon herself? The Dragon is a marvel. Ev is imposing order on the collection, and it’s working. Harriet can feel how the energies flow more freely, how the bright things Ev chooses seem to sing together. The Dragon thrums with joyous harmonies, and there’s space for each treasure to be.

At the same time, she feels as though she’s losing them, and as a result, she’s losing herself, coming apart, breaking open from the inside. It’s taxing work. Every day, she reassembles her mental catalog, remembering where all her treasures live now that they have transitioned. This is the hardest part. Though her apartment was a health hazard, at least she knew where everything lived. Now she can’t be sure that every item is accounted for. She trusts Owen and Ev. Noemi less so, not with those hungry eyes and wandering fingers, but she’s watched the other two enough to believe in them. Mostly. She can’t help feeling as though things keep falling through the cracks.

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