I went back to Marlene's Corner the very next day.
The café looked exactly the same. Steamy windows and mismatched chairs and the smell of fresh bread and coffee and something sweet. It felt like coming home to a place I had never been.
Marlene spotted me the moment I walked through the door. She did not smile, exactly. Her expression was more like satisfaction. The look of a woman whose prediction had come true.
"You came back," she said.
"You said I would."
"I always know." She pointed at the same table by the window. "Sit. Soup?"
"Yes, please."
She disappeared into the kitchen. I sat down and looked around. The café was quiet. A few other customers occupied the tables. An old man reading a newspaper. A young woman typing on a laptop. The hum of conversation and clinking cups filled the air.
I was just starting to relax when the door burst open.
And I mean burst. It slammed against the wall. The bells above it jangled wildly. Every head in the café turned.
A whirlwind in a crooked apron crashed through the doorway.
She was carrying three plates. None of them were balanced correctly. Her hair was escaping from a messy bun. Her apron was tied crookedly and had a large coffee stain on the front. She was talking before she was fully inside.
"I am so sorry I am late, Marlene. The bus was delayed and then I dropped my keys and then a pigeon stole my croissant, which I know sounds fake but I swear it happened. I had to buy a new one and I ran into Mrs. Patterson from the flower shop who wanted to tell me about her grandson's graduation and I could not escape because she is lonely and I felt bad."
She stopped.
She had seen me.
The plates in her hands wobbled dangerously. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth fell open. She stared at me like I was a ghost. Like I was something she had lost and never expected to find again.
And then she screamed.
"VIVIAN."
The old man dropped his newspaper. The woman with the laptop jumped. Marlene appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel and looking completely unsurprised.
"VIVIAN CHEN. OH MY GOD. YOU ARE HERE. YOU ARE ACTUALLY HERE."
The plates were tipping now. I was genuinely concerned they were going to crash to the floor. But the whirlwind, this Sophie Chen, seemed to have supernatural abilities. She caught the plates at the last possible second and slammed them onto the nearest table. Then she launched herself at me.
I was hugged. Tightly. Fiercely. Like I was the most important thing in the world and she had been waiting for this moment for years.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were wet. She was crying. Actual tears streaming down her face and mixing with whatever flour was already there.
"You do not remember me," she said. It was not a question.
"I do not. I am sorry."
"No. No, it is okay. Lucas told Marlene who told me. Amnesia. Retrograde. You forgot everything. Including me." She wiped her face with her apron, which only made things worse. "This is fine. I am fine. I am not crying. Okay, I am crying, but they are happy tears. Mostly."
I stared at her. This chaotic, tearful, flour-covered woman who apparently knew me better than I knew myself.
"You are Sophie," I said.
"Yes. Sophie Chen. No relation. We are not cousins or anything. Just friends. Best friends. I mean, we were best friends. Before. Are we still? Is that weird to ask? I am making this weird."
"You gave me unicorn pajamas."
Her face lit up. "You found them. I was so worried you had thrown them away. The old you, I mean. The before you. She was very minimalist. Very black and white. I gave her those pajamas for her birthday three years ago and she said, 'Thank you, Sophie,' in that voice she used when she hated something but was too polite to say so."
"The voice."
"Yes. The voice. Very controlled and very professional and very 'I am secretly dying inside but I will never admit it.'"
I laughed. I could not help it. Sophie's energy was infectious. Chaotic and loud and completely overwhelming, but warm. So warm.
"I love them," I said. "The pajamas. I wear them every night."
Sophie's eyes filled with fresh tears. "You wear them. Every night."
"Is that okay?"
"Okay. It is everything. The old Vivian would never. She probably had them buried in the back of her closet. Literally. She probably hired someone to bury them."
"They were behind a row of black heels."
"I knew it." Sophie threw her hands up. "I knew she hid them. But you found them. And you wear them. This is the best day of my life."
Marlene appeared beside our table and set down a bowl of soup and a cup of tea. "Sophie. You are scaring the customers."
Sophie looked around. The old man had retrieved his newspaper. The woman with the laptop was watching us with open curiosity.
"Sorry," Sophie said, not sounding sorry at all. "I am having a moment. A big moment. My best friend forgot me and then found me again. That is cinematic. That is a whole movie."
"It is a lot," I agreed.
Sophie pulled up a chair and sat down across from me. She leaned forward with intense eyes. "Okay. Tell me everything. What do you remember? What do you not remember? Do you remember the time we went to that terrible karaoke bar and you sang Whitney Houston and it was actually good and I was so jealous I pretended to lose my voice for a week?"
"I do not remember any of that."
"None of it."
"None of it."
Sophie's face fell for just a moment. Then she straightened up, squared her shoulders, and nodded firmly.
"Okay. That is fine. We will make new memories. Better memories. I will tell you all the old stories and we will create new ones and eventually you will have so many memories of me you will be sick of me."
"I do not think that is possible."
Sophie beamed. "I do not think so either. I am delightful."
Marlene, passing by with a coffee pot, snorted. "Delightful. That is one word for it."
"Rude," Sophie said, but she was grinning. "Marlene pretends she is tough, but she cried when she heard about your amnesia."
"I did not cry," Marlene said.
"She cried. I saw her. She was cutting onions at the time, but I know real tears when I see them."
Marlene walked away without responding, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
I looked at Sophie. This chaotic, wonderful, completely overwhelming woman who had apparently been my best friend. Who had given me unicorn pajamas. Who had cried when she saw me. Who was already planning new memories to replace the ones I had lost.
"You said we were best friends," I said. "Before."
"We were. We are. Unless you do not want to be."
"I want."
Sophie's face softened. The chaos dimmed, just slightly, just enough for me to see the real person underneath. The one who had been waiting for her friend to come back.
"I missed you," she said quietly. "Even before you forgot me. The old Vivian, she was so closed off. So distant. I kept trying to reach her and she kept pushing me away. But I never stopped trying because I knew, somewhere underneath all that black and white, there was someone who needed emergency cuddles."
I reached across the table and took her hand. "I am sorry I do not remember. But I am here now. And I am not going anywhere."
Sophie's eyes filled with tears again. "That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me. The old Vivian once told me my energy was disruptive to the workplace environment."
"We were at work."
"We were at a spa. There is no workplace environment at a spa. That is the whole point."
I laughed. Sophie laughed. And somewhere behind the counter, Marlene watched us with something that might have been a smile.
I had found Sophie. My best friend. My emergency cuddle provider. My chaotic, wonderful, flour-covered hurricane of a person.
And I was never letting her go.