u/beozzi

With long, manicured nails, Violet flipped through the only bridal magazine left on the rack. Her eyes lingered on a picture of two girls in matching gowns, and she let out a perfumed sigh. Before she could let her mind wander, she felt eyes on the back of her head, and she shoved the magazine unceremoniously back onto the shelf. She turned to glare at the boy who stood no less than three feet behind her.

The teenage employee took one of his headphones out. He was clearly annoyed that she had the nerve to make eye contact with him after he had been openly staring at her.

“Either buy something or get out… miss?” The honorific was phrased as a question, and Violet felt sweat beading on the back of her neck.

"Yeah, I was just heading out the door."

Violet had wanted to ask about a pawn shop, maybe buy that new energy drink flavor, but she figured she'd cut her losses and head to the grocery store before it got dark. She had some shopping to do, but she wasn't about to get into a political debate with a college freshman who wore shoplifted Beats.

The bus ride was long and boring, and Violet found herself constantly refreshing her Pinterest looking for home decor ideas. She was getting too ahead of herself, though. She needed to rein in her emotions, or else something terrible might happen!

A text from Lucy, her girlfriend, broke her out of her daydream. She glanced at it as it skimmed over the top of her phone. 

Lucy had said: You're taking me out for hibachi? Isn't the only place that does that in our city, like, a super expensive ritzy joint? What's the occasion?

A nervous shudder ran through Violet's core. Did Lucy suspect anything? But more importantly, she had gotten herself into a bit of a bind. She had everything lined up for her proposal that evening… everything but the ring.

Violet started to compose a well-thought-out reply, but she was interrupted when the bus jolted so hard that she nearly fell out of her seat. The driver was frantically pulling over into a side street, nowhere near a bus stop. Violet had been so absorbed in scrolling through aesthetic pictures that she hadn't even realized why people were leaving the bus in droves. She cautiously left her seat and followed them out, only to discover that grey smoke was billowing out of the back end of the bus in plumes. 

Bad news, and not just for the bus. Violet quietly and quickly left the scene. She wasn't one to stick around and watch a catastrophe. She'd rather avoid it, lest she create one of her own. Ever since she'd gotten pneumonia as a small child, even the smallest bit of smoke could cause an attack. She couldn't remember if she'd brought her inhaler, but thankfully, she was far enough away at this point that it didn't matter.

Violet had never been to this part of town, and an unfamiliar area past dark was a recipe for disaster. She was gearing up to call a cab when her eyes rested on a strange little shop. The facade was curiously built into an alleyway, perpendicular to an old T-shirt shop that was in the process of being completely gutted and resold. Not the best place to put an entryway, but maybe they were still working on the front of the building? 

The hand-painted sign above its fading green curtains read The Memory Shop. It looked simple enough from the outside, like an ordinary antique shop, but an antique shop was exactly what Violet needed. Despite the rest of the street being poorly lit, this building was bright and bubbling with golden light, as if the facade itself was glowing. 

Violet debated just going home for a few moments before deciding, fuck it. This was as good a place to find a ring as any. She went inside.

The shop was packed, even moreso than any other antique shop she'd been to in the past few months. Items were stacked from floor to ceiling, piled so high that Violet worried that they would collapse on her. They ranged from normal things like clothes and books (some that even looked relatively new) to medical equipment, a few very well-loved porcelain dolls, taxidermied animals, and a diving suit that looked like it was from the 1800s.

Violet flipped through a book, then squinted at the back cover. She pulled out another one to examine it, then a third.

"Are you enjoying our library, Violet?"

Violet jumped and turned around. She hadn't seen anyone approach, nor had she heard them. What's more, this was a face she never expected to see in real life. He had auburn curls that were going grey, shoved haphazardly underneath a tattered old Yankees cap, and the same honey-colored eyes and crooked smile that Violet saw in the mirror every day. She blinked, trying not to show emotion.

"Dad?"

"Dad? That's a new one," the man said, and smoothed his vest down with both hands. While he looked identical to Violet's father, he was wearing a garish lime green jacket and iridescent button-down that Violet's real dad wouldn't be caught dead in.

"But how? Why are you here? Mom said that you died before I was born. Have you been working here all this time?"

"Pay close attention, Violet, cause this is important stuff! I'm not your dad, nor am I the last customer's aunt or that weird customer's long distance boyfriend. I do have a name, but you can just call me the Shopkeeper. Get it? Got it? Good."

Violet had never met her dad, only ever seen pictures and videos of him, but in all of the home movies she had watched, he didn't talk like the Shopkeeper did. Still, the resemblance was uncanny.

"Why do you look like him, anyway?" Violet decided to press the question further.

"Good question! But we were discussing the books, weren't we?" The Shopkeeper batted his lashes.

"But—"

"The books, Violet, the books!"

Violet paused, inhaled, and took a good look at the overcrowded bookshelf again. Lucy worked at a library, and she visited her often to read and study, but she'd never seen most of these. Actually… she'd never seen any of these.

"These are all books that haven't been written yet," the Shopkeeper said, as if he'd plucked the thoughts right out of her head.

"You mean they're unpublished drafts?" Violet asked. She was trying to hold onto what semblance of normalcy she still had left.

"No, they haven't been written, and likely never will be. You're welcome to bring one home with you and publish it if you like. Many of them were going to be best sellers, after all. But I have a feeling that you're in the market for something else."

He stepped aside, revealing a ring case behind the desk. Inside of it, precious stones caught the light and glittered invitingly. Violet tried to lean in to get a closer look, but the Shopkeeper snapped it shut.

"All things have a price," he said.

Violet blinked. She had so many questions, and none of what she was seeing made any sense. She wanted to say everything that she was thinking, but the words stuck in her throat like a pill, bitter and rough.

"What's the price?" she managed.

"It depends on what you can pay. You see, this is the first and only memory shop in the world. I buy memories for memories of equal value. Everything you can purchase here is a tangible memento from somebody else's life that you can keep forever. We only ask for one of yours in exchange."

Violet swallowed the nausea that was beginning to rise. "So if I purchase one of those rings, you'll just give me amnesia for a while?"

"Not exactly. It's different for every person, you know." The shopkeeper shrugged his shoulders and glanced, absentmindedly, at a large compass that he'd pulled out of a drawer. "Maybe you will. Who knows? Oh! I think you're going to be late for your date."

"How do you know about my date?" Violet asked. She felt her shoulders prickle.

"I deal in memories, after all. I can't predict the future, but I know that the two of you have chemistry. Why leave it up to chance?" The Shopkeeper said.

Violet clenched her jaw so tightly that she thought her teeth would crack, one after the other, and splinter like glass. But they held strong. "Can I see the ring case?"

He held out the case to her again, and she skimmed her fingers over the jewelry that rested inside. A soft, peach-colored ring stood out amongst the others. She picked it out of the case.

"Morganite. Interesting choice. Looks like this belonged to Suzie Bright from Alberta."

Violet absentmindedly slipped it onto her middle finger. The band gleamed golden in the lamplight. She thought about the implications of this for a moment.

"Does that mean that… because of me, Suzie can't get married?"

"Oh, no, no, no. You've got it all wrong, the order's all mixed up, my dear. Suzie left it here years ago, and you just so happened to find it!" The shopkeeper tilted his head, his salt-and-pepper curls falling to one side.

"But what does that mean for Suzie, is what I need to know?"

"I don't know!" The Shopkeeper clasped his hands together. "Once they leave the shop, what happens to their memories is out of my control."

"What about my memories? Will it hurt?" Violet asked. 

"Now, now, you're asking too many questions, dear girl. Do you want the ring, yes or no?"

Violet didn't like the idea of missing out on a milestone because of this, but if she missed out on climbing Mt. Everest or finding the cure for cancer because she got married, at least she'd be none the wiser.

"I want the ring." 

Violet took it off and slipped it into her skirt pocket. She felt odd leaving the store with a piece of jewelry, but The Shopkeeper said it would be okay. But she hadn't made two steps towards the door before The Shopkeeper was in front of her, throwing a viridian-clad arm between her and the exit.

"Not so fast. First, you get to choose. Past or future?" The Shopkeeper tilted his head. "I will say, I don't recommend that you choose the past. Most have tried, all have regretted it. But it's up to you."

Violet considered his words. He had said that cutting away her memories of the past was a bad idea, but she couldn't wrap her head around why. She didn't know him, but he knew her, so he must know why she would choose this. Violet had started her transition at age nineteen. If people forgot some of her childhood, they might forget the sad, scared little boy that she grew up as. She would only exist as Violet in their eyes.

"I want to give up my past. Um, please."

"Once you've chosen this path, you can never go back."

"I don't want to."

The shopkeeper shook her hand, and Violet left with the ring. Once she stepped outside the shop, she found herself standing outside the hibachi restaurant, five miles away from where the bus had crash-landed. Violet decided not to think about it. She would enjoy her evening together with her future wife and plan for how they would spend their life together.

—

As she stepped inside the restaurant, she suddenly remembered that she hadn't texted Lucy back. Thankfully, Lucy was waiting there for her, and she crashed into her arms.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked. Violet expected her to be upset, but she sounded genuinely concerned for her safety.

"Yeah, you can't get rid of me that easily." Violet made a big show of rolling her shoulders, which Lucy cracked a smile at.

The rest of the night was a happy blur of watching the performance, stuffing themselves with soba noodles and rice, and chatting with the family that they'd been seated with — a single dad with two twin sons who looked to be around 11. She thought about the Shopkeeper, and her own childhood, and wondered what part of it was missing. She seemed to remember all of it just fine. 

Wait — the ring. She didn't trust that crackpot as far as she could throw him. What if he sold her a bogus ring that ended up disappearing? She frantically searched her pockets until she found it — the ring she bought for Lucy. It was small and surprisingly cold against her palm.

"What are you looking for?" Lucy asked.

"Oh, just… something. Hey, uh… Lucy. I have something to ask you." Violet took a deep breath and steeled her nerves, then got down on one knee. "Will you marry me?"

—

The newly-engaged couple walked back to their car, dizzy from excitement and full of expensive shrimp and caramelized onions. Lucy started the car and they drove back to her apartment, hoping to break the news to her roommates before it got too late. As soon as they got on the highway, Violet dialed her mom's number. She knew her mom would want to be the first to hear about their engagement.

"Who is this?" her mom asked. Violet's heart sank.

"It's Violet, Mom. Did you get a new phone? Anyway, I have some exciting news!"

"Violet? I don't know anyone named Violet," her mom said. 

My childhood. The Shopkeeper mentioned that something bad might happen if I messed with my past. Maybe she only remembers my pre-transition self.

"Do you know me as…" Violet steeled herself before speaking the name that she hadn't referred to herself as in over ten years.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?"

Violet blinked. She wasn't expecting that.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I don't know who you are, lady, but my son died when he was three years old." Her mom's voice cracked. She sounded like she was in tears. "Leave him out of your prank calls or whatever."

She hung up on her, and Violet stared at the receiver as if it had bitten her.

"What happened?" Lucy asked innocently.

How do I even explain that I sold some of my memories to buy your engagement ring?

"I think it was a wrong number."

As soon as they got back to Lucy's apartment, Violet got online. She began messaging her close friends and relatives in droves, casually notifying them of her engagement and letting them know that they would be invited to a small get-together. It wasn't just her mom — everyone who met her as Violet thanked her on the engagement and said they would be there, but everyone who knew her before her transition didn't know who she was. It was as if her existence as that depressed teenage boy had been completely excised from the world, along with everyone's memories of him. For better or for worse.

Well, mostly for worse.

The reality of it all started to sink in. Would Lucy believe her if she told her the truth about why her mom wasn't at the wedding? Or any of her other relatives? Would any lie be convincing enough? She had to go back to the Memory Shop.

The next day, she took the bus to the same little side street that she had wandered off to before. She had to walk quite a bit to get there, since it was tucked between two bus stops, but when she arrived, she found that the little storefront had vanished. She examined the wall, as if it would appear out of thin air, but no luck.

But… the storefront had to lead somewhere, right? She just needed to get into the battered old T-shirt shop next door. She wasn't about to pick the lock, but to her surprise, the door swung open as soon as she touched it.

The interior of the shop had been completely gutted. It didn't look like an antique store at all, nor did it look like a T-shirt shop. The shelves were upended, and the floor was covered in paint-splattered grey tarps. Sheets of paper covered the walls, everything held together with tiny strips of blue tape. Violet sank to her knees, distraught.

"Well, look who's here. What did I say? They come back, they always come back." Violet turned around and saw… her mom. She blinked, rubbing her eyes. Was it really her? "Mom" was wearing a bright green pantsuit covered in sequins, her shoulders draped in a faux fur shawl. She wore more makeup than Violet's mom had worn in her entire lifetime.

"Mom? Why are you here?"

"Yoo-hoo! I'm The Shopkeeper, remember? Weren't you looking for me?" 

This would take some getting used to. "Yeah… I was. I need my old memories back. Nobody remembers me. How am I going to explain that my mom won't be at the wedding?"

"You don't need to explain! It'll all be taken care of. But unfortunately, all purchases at The Memory Shop are non-refundable. If I just gave everyone their old memories back, there'd be nothing left to sell! However, I am willing to sell you back your childhood memories at a fraction of the price." The Shopkeeper tapped a baton against her chin.

"Really?" Violet asked. "You can just take something out of my future, just… I need everyone to know who I am again."

"The deed is done." The Shopkeeper tapped the baton against her hand, then reached behind her shawl and whipped out a bouquet of flowers from behind her back. She handed them to a very bewildered Violet. "Here are the memories that you requested. They'll make a beautiful gift for your bride-to-be."

"So will my family remember me now? My mom? Sisters? Cousins?"

"We sell memories as physical items here. Unfortunately, transferring them back to their original state is beyond my power. But now you have a lovely memento to cherish for all eternity," The Shopkeeper said. A chiming sound rang out, and she pulled an impossibly large cowbell from inside her pocket, one that seemed to be ringing under its own power. "Oh! Looks like I have a customer. I need to take my leave, Violet. Ciao!"

"Wait! Come back. Stay with me," Violet begged. She needed to see her mom's face, just for a little while. However, the Shopkeeper had vanished before she even saw that she was gone. 

Violet lay on the floor of the unfinished shop until the sun set. She didn't want to think about what future memory had been taken from her, didn't even want to consider the flowers that lay, scattered, by her side. She lay there until the sun came up again, unable to sleep, unable to move, unable to do anything besides withstand the passage of time.