6. Sandcastles

“My dad would take me to the beach every Sunday to build sandcastles,” Orion says, puffing on the bowl of ramen in front of him, the broth simmering hot at the touch of his breath. He looks up at June, blocking out the Sun with his left hand, and wrapping the right hand around his neck in a fold inspired by winter scarves. “It sounds silly, but I really enjoyed how sand felt on my skin. I loved playing with the shadows, building complex tunnels through them.”

“Now I know you like sandcastles,” June laughs, before slurping on the ramen in her own bowl. She crosses her legs, the Sun behind her and Orion in front. She clangs her chopsticks onto the edges of her bowl before saying, “So you believe that the Reinstatement will feel like building sandcastles to you?”

“Oh, did I say that?” Orion asks. “Sorry, I have this habit, where I just start going on tangents about things. Everything’s kind of scrambled, jumbled, and crumpled up here.” Orion knocks his skull playfully. “But I do suppose that’s what I am trying to say. The way you described Reinstatement feels like building a sandcastle to me.”

June sometimes finds it hard to follow what Orion’s trying to say; when Orion speaks, words leap off his tongue and float around like flies, buzzing in all directions, each one carrying an idea of their own. There’s no shape to his thoughts, but there is structure, and an abundance of thrill, in his thoughts that June relishes unraveling. She clings to each fly, each thought, and pieces together who Orion Fields is.

It was Orion’s idea to get lunch, while June runs him through how the Reinstatement works. It was also his idea to sit outside, which June was sure he would come to resent, but was surprised to find him enjoying it. He is wearing a sleeveless black top with uneven edges at the bottom, and skinny jeans - the smell of sunscreen sprayed all over his body is mixed with the smell of pork broth in their ramen. His eyes hop from her, then to her notebook, and then to her wrists. Each time he glances at something that belongs to her, his eyes lingering over it for a moment, June feels her heart howl, terrified of what he does to her.

“The Reinstatement pulls on core memories from my subconscious through five big procedures. Five big memories are pulled through, setting the base for the rest of my memories to fall into place, which is exactly like making a sandcastle. You are helping me set the base for the sandcastle, June,” Orion says, filling in the silence with his explanation.

“You do know that I’m the one who Erased your memories, right?” June says, itching to say Orion’s name, but it is hard to say a name that will never truly be hers.

“And?”

“So how can I be helping you right now when I’m the one who did this to you?” June asks.

“Oh, you are not the one I blame. It’s them,” Orion says, pointing up to the glass building behind him. “The Department of Memories made you push a button.” He shrugs.

“And I still did it.”

“You did not know better.” Orion smiles. “You did not know that I liked sandcastles.”

“Does it not get tiring trying to see the good in everyone all the time?” June asks.

“Does it not get tiring trying to convince me that you’re not a good person?” Orion asks.

June has gotten to know Orion well enough over the last few weeks to understand that this man has an unparalleled flirtation with being an optimist all the time. It’s so effortless that June feels compelled to learn it from him.

“I believe there is good in each of us. Is that so bad?” Orion adds.

“Sometimes. There are people out there who have no good left in them,” June says.

“Oh, I’ve met some of those people myself, but unkind people need kindness the most. Believing that there’s good in each one of us isn’t something I do for other people. It’s something I do to keep myself sane…maybe that’s selfish, but necessary,” Orion says. June shakes her head in defiance. Sensing that June is ready to drop the subject, Orion says, “I like your tattoos.”

June arches her eyebrows.

“Tell me about them,” Orion says, his mouth full and his chopsticks pointing at all three of her tattoos.

June points to the first one on her right shoulder. “This one’s a cat.” She points to her inner arm. “This is a whale.” She points to her outer arm. “This one’s a snail.” Conversation well done.

“Well, of course, I see that. What made you get them?” Orion rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know,” June says, corking her head and pitching up her voice. “I like whales because they sing songs. I like cats because they are unbothered. And my friend made the snail for me on my twenty-first.”

Orion nods. “Do you have piercings?”

“No, I’m scared of being stabbed.”

Orion points to the tattoo and laughs.

“These are different,” June argues. “I know the needle is not going to pierce my skin. Getting a piercing is the same as stabbing yourself in the ear.”

“Interesting.”

“Do you have tattoos?”

“No. I have piercings in my ears, but I’m allergic to silver. With a tattoo, I don’t know what I’d get.”

June smiles and teases. “Oh yeah? And you definitely can’t get them erased, right? Because everybody participating in some form of tattoo removal must be evil.” Imitating Orion, she continues. “Because they are mine, and they belong to me forever.”

Orion presses his lips and wags his fingers at her. “I’ll give this one to you.”

“Orion Fields does not have a comeback?” June smirked, resting her chin on her hands and regarding him with poorly concealed amusement.

“Orion Fields would like to change the subject now,” Orion pinches the bridge of his nose, feigning exhaustion. “What is it you were saying about the memories? She’ll be pixelated to keep her identity anonymous. What if I run into her again out there in the wild? Will she physically be pixelated when I look at her?”

“Her face will be pixelated only in your memories,” June says softly, biting her tongue at the mention of May. It repulses her, like poison in her wounds, like an itch blooming in her mind, wishing that it was her and not May that Orion was so fond of trying to remember. A certain kind of jealousy hits her, to be someone she’s not, and then she feels relief at the idea that Orion still remembers her. How would it be to forget Orion? If her affection for Orion is like pricking needles into her skin, how many needles will it take before it no longer hurts? She pushes back on the creeping feeling of seeing the world through Orion’s eyes: the way he wakes up in the morning, the way he decides to walk between rooms, the way his head bobs back a little when he laughs, the way he sometimes squats when he’s excited. “If you were to see May again in person, she’d appear as she is.” June finishes saying.

“Her memories will never un-pixelate. No chance?”

“No chance,” June confirms, though a little uncertain – there was that woman on the subway from a few weeks ago.

“What about her voice?” 

“Her voice?” June asks, confused and curious. She begins scanning the papers in her folder, reviewing her notes.

“Yes, I would like to remember how she sounded in my head.”

“I mean, I guess you will remember how she sounded,” June says, tapping her folder. “What do you think she sounded like?”

“Like a bird.”

June scoffs. “What do you think you sounded like in her head.”

Orion looks up at the sky. “Maybe an arrow.”

June folds her hands. “Can I ask questions?”

Orion wants to evade her questions. “When do you have to get back to work?”

“This is work.”

“No, this is lunch.”

“You are my client.”

“I thought I was your friend,” Orion says, throwing his arms into the air. “I do have one last question. Does it hurt?”

I would never hurt you, June wants to say, but she holds that idea in, because she knows that once she says those words, she’ll be admitting to the world and to herself that what she feels for Orion is something deeper than mere affection. It’s a feeling she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“It stings,” she replies truthfully.

“I believe you. I don’t think you are capable of hurting me,” he says.

June grins. Little does he know.