IV. Photograph

She called him Oneil on the first day that they met. She came to his small house suited in contemporary armories that translate to power and influence. Despite her appearance, there was that woman meant to get heard. 

Every scene that day was vivid and unprecedented. She called him by another name, eyes sparkling to recognize a dream realized in the mundane world. Her voice revealed a little hope emerging. Yet, like a rebellious wave, he crushed the scene by insisting he was Riley. She insisted on a plea to recognize her as his fiancee. That moment, perhaps, could be the day of reckoning with his hidden past and memories.

But Marika came and troubled the scene. She protested Essi’s claims by the truth that Riley learned to live. Compared to the woman who just arrived, Marika would be more reliable. After all, Marika was there for him and has given him food, shelter, and knowledge that there are strangers who care for him.

Although Riley couldn’t accept some of Essi’s statements, he did care as a neighbor, concerned with Essi’s situation. She has become the talk of the town again.

Sententious, cruel, and unproven things belong to the people who would not wish to understand Essi. His view on Essi runs against the tide. Notions to brush Essi off harshly were never on his mind. He does not see her as a threat to his relationship with Marika. But in the name of jealousy, he keeps his boundary from the new girl in town.

It was another day for Riley to keep himself inside the hut. Essi might arrive with another dish to give him. She had different delicacies, varying in kind, but all are of excellent presentation. There were hints that it could be a French delicacy or an impression of a Californian taste. He once heard about Cioppino and could only imagine how tomatoes might work with clams to surround his taste buds. He would never be sure about the taste since Marika would search for it and prohibit him from eating the dish. Marika would always warn him that the food might have a potion. A local term made it more dreadful for him to flinch about, gayuma.

He was waiting for Essi to come and leave the food at the door. However, there was no Essi that would make noise again at their lot. At nine in the morning, he walked around the neighborhood to check how Essi was doing. He could excuse it as a mere stroll.

Essi’s house is locked. He wanted to ask if Essi had left the town. An understanding man like Tata Ramon sauntered past him while bringing two empty pails.

“She went downtown because she needs to meet someone,” Tata Ramon uttered while not looking at him. He was like an asset, passing by to relay critical information.

Essi didn’t leave. Riley earned the information that made him oddly relieved.  Before he stepped away, Tata Ramon called him for a frank conversation.

“Don’t give the girl false hope. If you are not interested in her, then do not let her call you Oneil,” he advised. “Except if you believe you’re Oneil, then you can let her.”

“I have no such intention to mess her up, Tata Ramon,” Riley defended.

“I know. But you chose to live as Riley.”

“I tolerated her because of her condition,” he reiterated that reason which caused Marika to be a little aloof from him.

“Condition?” Tata Ramon was rather amused. “It seems like Essi would have you back sooner or later.”

Riley shook his head. He will never get swayed by any of Essi’s claims. “I rather believe on Marika, Tatang.”

“You want to believe Marika because you affirm that she is your strong foundation about your past,” Tata Ramon said and stepped near his door to unlock it. “But the question is, who are you choosing?”

“I don’t have to choose, Tata Ramon,” he uttered. He kept his politeness amid the feeling that the Tata Ramon was grilling him –like how Marika’s family would do.

“But I can see it through you. Beyond your subconscious, I know that your heart wants to choose Essi. It’s not because she can offer you something about yourself but because your heart knows she needs you.” Tata Ramon patted Riley’s back. “And right now, you wanted to check how was she doing, reasoning yourself that Essi has a condition and at least needs acceptable attention.”

He left Riley there with the feeling of sitting on fences though there were none, standing on the middle lane, waiting for the green signal to lead him to the correct pavement.

There was no traffic sounds bringing him back to his wits. It was Essi who arrived with a bag filled with groceries. She was standing in delight while looking at him.

“Oneil, why are you here?”

He brought his cold voice in grim to bring a serious note. He might find it hard to say his decision to Essi if she would act bubbly and cheerful in front of him.

“I am Riley Ramirez. Will you allow me to live as one? Please don’t call me Oneil anymore,” he said, trying hard to make it less harsh.

Defying apprehensions, Essi smiled childishly, grinning ear to ear while leaning toward him. “Alright then. I will call you Mon beau.”

“Hey, that is an endearment,” Riley flagged. He was sure. Although it was a strange language, there was a radio DJ who enlightened him about sweet names.

“It’s your choice then. You can let me call you Oneil or call you on different endearments. I have many on my sleeves, and that’s just French. I can call you n Bahasa, too. How would you like it, Sayangku?” Essi teased. Before there could be awkward stillness between them, she put off her childish antics. “Remind yourself that I will never take back calling you Oneil. It is the truth. You are Oneil, and I will prove to you that you are him.”

She proceeded to the front door to unlock it, feigning disinterest in talking to him. Surprisingly, Riley added another sentence that sounded friendly.

“Alright then. I was just asking if you could stop calling me Oneil. No need to trouble yourself if this is your means to be happy.”

His words made Essi remember why Riley allowed her to call him by his real name.

“Yeah, thanks,” Essi uttered. She wanted to retort that she’s not happy to be the only person who truly knows him. She could only keep her friendly presence to him and not push him hard to accept what was his past reality. In a secret inquiry, the doctor advised her to be more considerate of him. Essi needed to ensure Oneil was all well and not weary about his situation.

While silence was at its work, Essi thought that Oneil had left without words. She looked back and found out that he was still standing near her.

“What? I thought you’d prove to me that I’m Oneil?”

Essi couldn’t help but smile. She invited him to her house. Without preparing snacks as she used to do when people visited her, she took possible evidence about Oneil. She has with her the photograph of their family dinner. She saved a video clip of them when Gwyneth recorded herself for a social media update. Knowing that Oneil might think all of these were fictitious, she brought out his passport that she had faithfully searched at his office.

“Oneil looks like me,” he uttered while flipping through the photographs and the passport.

“Because you are Oneil,” Essi repeated, almost frustrated.

“But if I’m Oneil, does that mean I have to go with you?” he asked.

“What else was my reason to be here for?” Essi scowled while taking back some pictures to their envelopes.

“But what about Marika?” he wondered.

Essi sighed to put off her annoyance. “Why did you even date someone when you are not even sure with your memories?” she managed to scold the man she tried persuading to believe her.

“Because she says that we were already dating even before I lost my memories,” he sounded like a schoolboy in confrontation.

Essi shook her head and took back the evidence from him. She allowed him to look at the passport while asking, “Be honest, do you at least feel that you are Oneil?”

He shook his head. His reaction made Essi close her eyes and press them through a silent sneer.

“I’m Riley, and I’m allergic to seafood. Is that something you can contest about Oneil?”

Essi smirked upon knowing the characteristics of Riley. “Well, tell me more. Perhaps, I’ll get convinced that you are not Oneil –as if.”

The unique things Riley revealed were his thalassophobia, himself being an orphan, a graduate from Remy Integrated High School, and a previous internet cafe clerk in a nearby city. All these things were vague both for Riley and Essi. Riley had no plan to clarify more details since Marika told him he had traumatic experiences. Marika was afraid to discuss it. Otherwise, that would mess him up. But Essi was interested in gathering more details about Riley Ramirez.

“Too funny. Almost everything I heard about you as Riley Ramirez is the exact opposite of who you are,” she commented while getting the passport back. 

Essi took out a copy of their family dinner photo. Primary Mercators and Paulsson's are in it. She hands it to Oneil with these words, “You are not alone. You have a family. Do not just think of yourself in your attempt to know about your past. Consider the family you might have left, too. You have your friends, your lover, and the things that molded you to become the Oneil you can still be. You may have forgotten us. But we did not. Whenever you are ready to join us again, to have even this kind of dinner, to share this kind of memory, just tell me. I will wait. I can wait.”

Essi’s words engraved a resonating mark on Riley’s wit as he sauntered his way back home. The picture was in his hand. His eyes were on it from time to time. There entails with his soul a deep desire to memorize the image and a great fear that the photo might get fuzzy in his retrospect. He held the picture dearly and reused a frame meant for his solo photo. There must be a great story behind the image –perhaps on its stillness that demands him to reckon it. Maybe it's the decoration that made the scene alive. Or each one in the photo joining for such myriad memories and stories to make one moment more alive. Whatever was there in the picture, perhaps it was something his lost memories could have answered.

Even at night, the picture has become the don of his inquiry. The kerosene lamp aided his wonder. A sweet reckoning pounded once more as he thought Essi might be telling the truth. It was unfathomable but likened to a moving hope, alive and with an extreme will to sustain his smile after a long day of work at the rice store.

Marika visited him with warm food. Marika’s notice of the photograph impeded Riley’s peaceful night. Complying with his expectation, Marika asked where he got the picture. Without his answer yet, Marika pointed out that it must be from Essi.

“A formal dinner?” she uttered while staring at it. “Between your family and hers.”

“I could at least give her the benefit of the doubt, right?” Riley tried to reason out.

But Marika started her tantrum, accusing Essi of many horrible things that sounded common in the radio news and dramas.

“She is just trying to attract you with elitist ways. Look at how lavish this is!” Her fingers are pointing to the showy decorations included in the angle. “She is looking down on you, believing that you might have hated your situation in this town and how poor the Sanchezes are that we can only accommodate a little for you.”

“But why do you think this only has to do with luxury?”

“Because that is what elites do to lure poor people.”

“I don’t think that she such intention. She only told me about my family,” Riley defended. He did not like Marika’s contention about the confluence of money and control, especially on Essi since she never mentioned such.

“Well, if she did not mention it, that’s cool. But how can we be sure that this is your true family?” Marika challenged. In her eyes, they are stock photo models. The scene is too photographic to be true. It was just like home posters available at Blue Ribbon Marketing. “What if by joining with her, you might end up in a horrible scene? Worse, human trafficking? Can’t you be more cautious?”

Riley never imagined Marika could get this far in questioning Essi’s intention. However, it was vital to be cautious. There were many reports about such crime, almost revolving throughout poor towns and suburbs.

“If you want to be friends with her, fine. If you want her to call you Oneil, fine,” she suddenly laid such permissions to impose an impression of sympathy and care. “But believing her claims? Be cautious. It would lead you to accompany her to nowhere. Who knows if she is really from Bordeaux?”

“Why do you have to think of her that way?” Riley felt defeated because all her appeals were against Essi. He did not want others to feel bad because of him.

“I am just protecting you, Riley. You know how we were able to find you,” she reminded.

It was a haunting flashback both for Marika and Oneil. She found him lying on the ground, on the side of the national highway. Blood was all over his head. He got robbed. He had no wallet, shoes, or ornaments like he used to showcase on Marika. She brought him to the hospital for his relief. 

By the time Oneil has recovered, he cannot remember who he was. His refuge is to know that his name is Riley Ramirez.

His memory bearer is Marika. Her words were always like this: “Remember when some people were spying on you from the former hut? I may be angry right now or might be too harsh on Essi, but I only care for you. Would you not take my advice?”

Riley sighed while nodding. “I will always consider your advice.”

Riley’s hut may be far from other neighbors. But Tata Ramon could hear them while fetching his cows that he sent to stay behind mango trees. “She is a loudmouth,” he commented. Thankfully, his wife is different. Otherwise, his head will always be in a terrible headache.

Apart from Tata Ramon, there was Essi. She heard them argue. Her hands were frozen still. The grip of her tired fingers was tight to the crystal storage box. The Cassoulet should have been the compensation dish for her lapse in giving one in the morning. Perhaps, she should just eat the Cassoulet by herself or give it to Paco, the one bugging her again.