who: @memoryangers (joyce) what: haha bev is feeling normal. anyway did u hear about that soundcloud rapper? where: wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?
It can’t hurt if it can’t be remembered -- a fine mantra Bev had been living by since the moment they were rescued, however unknowingly. It can’t hurt if it can’t be remembered. For all the time Bev and Joyce overlapped in Redford, for all the history within the confines of the town, for all of the status they had gained as local ‘celebrities’… seeing Joyce meant no longer living in blissful ignorance; to see Joyce was to remember it all. Neighborhoods long forgotten, sleepovers left behind, meals now uneaten (if only… haha unless…) And now, John Doe. Something primal had taken hold again. But John Doe was gone now. And if he was gone, then he could be forgotten. What was she doing the night John Doe was murdered? She certainly couldn’t recall! Certainly couldn’t recall until she saw Joyce. And then the neighborhoods were remembered, the sleepovers reappeared, the meals were fresh. It was not like that with the others. Not yet. But Joyce… For just a moment, she simply stood; for just a moment, just a blink, she didn’t think to acknowledge her… and maybe it would’ve been better to be strangers, who knows? But the social script, a script Bev kept close to her heart, suggested you acknowledge those you have a complex past with. It just does not specify how you do so. “Joyce, darling, do you remember that one kid from Tangredi’s class? The one who ate the goldfish?” John... something or other... John Fisheater. There were worse (better?) things to eat! "Tell me I'm not the only one who was formally invited to the 'listening party' for his 'mixtape.'"