Chapter four

Memory is the enemy

When she was younger, Elsa had struggled to understand the purpose of their dining room table. She knew they ate there during Thanksgiving and Christmas, but she didn't see much point in having a slightly bigger table with slightly fancier silverware than the table in the kitchen, where they ate most of their meals. Anna couldn't have cared less, as she loved having an excuse to sit in a taller chair and act fancy – not that she adhered to the table manners that the fancy locale suggested. Sometimes, she'd ask that they all ate at that table on completely normal days, and their parents had been quite unable to say no.

With all those memories, it almost felt wrong to set up her work station there, to brush aside the fancy table settings to make space for her laptop and screens, but she was short on options. Just pulling out a folding table in the basement was a no go at the moment, due to the clutter of mess and memories that coated the entire floor. Her only other option was a desk in her room, but she had learned from experience that sleeping five feet away from one's place of work had a detrimental effect on the mind.

As she plugged everything in, she yawned. In her haste to get back here, one thing she hadn't thought to bring was her Keurig. Their parents' coffeemaker was old and quite dirty, and Anna seemed to get most of her caffeine from sodas. She'd have to work something out; in the meantime, she'd trained herself to never yawn during a meeting or conference call. It hadn't been easy, but with enough diligence, anything could be suppressed. Anything.

Her screens flashed to life, the number in the corner reading 10:58. She had made the decision to sync up her schedule with her office back in California, which meant her supervisor would be logging in any minute now. It had been something of a surprise for her yesterday to find that she had somehow gotten up before Anna, in spite of her jet lag – well, car lag, she should say. It was, she supposed, a perk of the unemployed life. At least, she hoped it wasn't anything more than that.

She voted up all the required modeling software while she watched the minutes tick over. At 8:05, she booted up Zoom to see that Wes had, indeed, logged in. He probably had been logged in since at least 7:30, but she'd been politely requested in the past to wait a few minutes before calling anyone, just to give them time to get settled. She sent him a video call request, then waited.

Before long, she was greeted with the sight of Wes, sitting in front of his own living room. "Good morning, Wes," she said.

Wes squinted at the screen. "Miss Winters?" he said. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Well, I saw the email yesterday saying that James just put in his two week's notice," she said, glancing at her email to confirm. "I know we discussed handing over the Altru job in the past, so I thought you might want me to start digging into that."

Wes fiddled with his glasses, still looking befuddled. "That's as may be, miss Winters, but you are still on bereavement leave, are you not?" He looked behind her. "In Ohio with your sister, as discussed?"

"Well, yes, I am," Elsa said, "but I believe I mentioned I would still be available if needed."

"And I said you wouldn't be needed, and that holds true," Wes said flatly. "We have things well under control here."

"Of course, I'm not trying too imply that you wouldn't," Elsa stammered. "It's just…"

"You've read the employee manual far more recently than I have," Wes interrupted. "So you very well know our policy on bereavement. We allow up to a seven day absence for loss of a family member, and you've barely used three."

"Well, yes…" Elsa said.

"In fact, you're eligible for fourteen days, considering both of-" He caught himself. "Well, considering circumstances."

"Of course, that's true," Elsa said. "It's…" She tried to think of what to say, exactly how much of the truth to sprinkle in. Even after years of practice, an omission of truth was still easier to sell than an outright lie.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Being back here," she said, "in this house, where I grew up with them…it's overwhelming. There's not a single corner of this place that doesn't remind me of them, or of other things I thought I'd cut out. It's all around me, it's so…"

She shook her head. Enough self-pity, get to the damn point.

She looked back at the screen. Wes seemed sympathetic to her plight, even without understanding that it was a double front war. "So I figured, if I can just knuckle down and focus on work, that'll take my mind off it, you know? It'd be good for me."

Wes adjusted his glasses. "I see your reasoning, miss Winters, but I question your conclusion. Stowing such pain deep inside of you is of no help to anyone, believe me."

"I believe you," Elsa said. Besides, how much more room could I have in there, anyway?

"Moreover, surely your sister is going through the exact same emotions as yourself."

Elsa winced. "You're probably right," she said. God, I hope not.

"I know what you're going through," Wes continued. "You don't get to my age without a healthy dosage of that pain. The greatest help I've found is finding someone else to help you through it."

"That makes sense," Elsa said.

It'd sure be nice to be a normal fucking sister, huh? To be able to do that with no strings attached?

"Right, then," Wes said, straightening himself. For all he knew, the matter was settled. "I will see you in two weeks, miss Winters. I will happily talk business with you then."

"All right, thank you, Wes," Elsa said. A thought struck her. "While I have you here, can we discuss that open managerial position you-"

"Later, miss Winters, later," Wes said insistently. He was already reaching for the end call button. "Go now, be with your sister."

The call shut off. Elsa lowered her head.

"I'd love to, Wes," she said to the blank screen. "I'd like nothing more in the whole goddamn world."

Elsa took the steps slowly, climbing to the second floor where their bedrooms sat. The stairs had all the same familiar creaks as before – even such a small memory tunneled its way to the surface after just a few steps. Already, she felt herself falling back into the old habits and rhythms from her younger days. It was in some ways terrifying to discover just how fast an entire phase of her life could melt away.

She arrived at Anna's door and knocked on it. "Anna?" she called.

After a brief pause, she heard a stirring from inside the room. "…Elsa?" came the groggy reply.

"Hey," Elsa said. "Can I come in?"

"Uh…uh…" Anna called back, the sleep fading from her voice. "Give me a second, would you?"

"Sure," Elsa said.

She stood back and waited patiently as other noises arose from behind the door, a modest clatter of sheets and clothes rustling and junk being hastily shoved around.

She felt a little apprehensive of what she might see within Anna's room. Anna had never been especially tidy or an early riser, but she had a feeling that what she was witnessing now was more than just a continuation of that trend. She could've simply started cooking breakfast and beckoned Anna out of her room again, but she didn't want to give away just how few arrows she had in that particular quiver.

Not that she was counting, but the racket continued for a good ninety seconds. Just as she was considering running over to her room and grabbing a chair, the door clicked open. Anna poked her head through the crack, her indomitable bedhead tamped down into the vague shape it would occupy once she took a shower. "Come in," she said. Elsa obliged.

It seemed Anna had endeavored to clear out a spot on her bed for Elsa to sit. The same could not be said for the route she'd have to take to get there, so she carefully waded through a pool of laundry and discarded food containers. The majority of this had to have been from before the accident.

Anna herself had abandoned the pink pajamas she'd gotten for Christmas, instead dressed in a plain "white" t-shirt and sweatpants. Elsa, in contrast, was wearing a nice dress shirt and pencil skirt, which she'd intended as a show to Wes that she'd still be carrying on professionally at a distance. Now she just felt comically overdressed, and she knew she could only be making Anna feel worse in comparison.

Elsa sat on the bed, legs pressed together formally. Anna sat down in her desk chair, keeping her back straight even though telltale signs of lethargy were plastered all over her face. Despite having approached her in the first place, Elsa really didn't know how to start their conversation.

"Morning," she said. At least initiating the conversation was a good first step.

"Good morning," Anna replied. She looked around at the room self-consciously. "If I knew I'd have a guest over…"

"It's fine," Elsa said dismissively. It probably wasn't, but they could take that one step at a time. "So…I just talked with my boss. I won't need to call into work until two weeks from now."

Anna smiled. "That's good. So, what do you wanna do first? You always plan stuff out – I bet you have so much you wanna do."

Elsa nodded. "Oh, I had so many things planned. I wanted to take you to the movies, the lake – all our old stomping grounds." She shook her head. "But when I thought about it, I realized we probably shouldn't do any of that. Not at first, at least."

Anna looked puzzled, so she continued.

"I can't even think about going to that lake without being swarmed by memories. And you've got far more recent experiences than mine, so…"

She left the rest unsaid. Just talking about it was already producing the expected effect, if Anna's face was any indication.

"And we're gonna have to deal with all that shit later," Elsa continued. "Soon enough, we have to look it in the eye and face the music. Right now, though, I don't think either of us are ready for that. So until we are, I think that memory is the enemy."

Anna nodded. "That…kind of makes sense."

Elsa began to pick up steam, shifting into her presentation mode. "Therefore, we should do things we've never done before. Go places we haven't seen, try stuff we never tried. Give ourselves time to adjust to this whole thing. Then, once we're recovered, we can tackle the hard part."

Anna chuckled. "I'm with you until that last thing," she said.

Elsa smiled warmly. "Don't worry. We'll get there." She considered going in for a hug, but settled for tousling Anna's hair. "And I'll be here with you for it."

Anna, of course, went for a hug. Though she was fresh out of bed and hadn't showered, Elsa still relished being able to hold her sister.

As the seconds stretched on, though, she began to search for an organic way to break it off. This had been such a great moment that she hadn't managed to pollute, and the longer they held each other, the greater the chance she had of ruining it.

Eventually, the moment did come. It wasn't anything either of them said, but rather, a faint jingle coming from outside.

Anna pulled away, then peeked through the blinds. Sure enough, the ice cream truck was pulling into their culdesac. She turned to her sister excitedly. "Look, Elsa, it's-" She stopped and blushed, perhaps thinking of how childish she sounded. "Well, you know what it is," she said self-consciously.

Elsa giggled. "So what are you waiting for, huh? Go and get some!"

Anna's smile returned, and she grabbed her wallet and raced for the door. "Be right back!" she called behind her. Elsa was left sitting in the room alone.

As if I'd begrudge her some ice cream. But…god, she's so innocent.

That was the image of Anna she'd kept in her mind for those long years they were apart. Now that she was back, it seemed to still hold – sweet, doe-eyed little Anna, willfully in denial of the big sister who desired to despoil her of that innocence.

Well, that was the simple, black-and-white interpretation of it, anyway. But there were two things wrong with this view. First, she had something that Elsa still hadn't acquired, even now. And second…

Elsa hopped off the bed and headed for her own room, and the wallet that lay within it.

I really want some ice cream, too.