Brehier

Remember

I catch my breath fully and am able to sit down. As I graze upon Ellen's parents and notice Oswaldo in the back, I can't help but address him directly.

"Father?" I say, a skeptical edge in my voice as I look at Oswaldo.

My father looks at me, slightly surprised by my sudden outburst. However, his expression quickly turns serious as I direct my gaze at Oswaldo. Oswaldo jolts slightly, his eyes widening in shock, and he almost takes a step back, confusion and disbelief etched across his face.

My mother, who had been watching the entire scene silently, suddenly gasps and looks back and forth between me and Oswaldo. My father also seems taken aback by my words, his eyes locked on Oswaldo.

"Wait, what did you just call him?" my mother asks, her voice trembling slightly.

"Excuse me, Sir and Lady... What is your butler's name?" I ask, my tone filled with confusion.

My parents exchange a brief glance before my father responds, "His name is Oswaldo... Why do you ask?"

"Oswaldo Brehier?" I inquire, the words barely leaving my lips before the room freezes.

Everyone in the room is caught off guard by my revelation. Oswaldo's eyes widen to the size of saucers, a mix of shock, surprise, and disbelief washing over his face. My father looks at me with dumbfounded surprise, while my mother gasps in shock. Oswaldo, for the first time, is rendered speechless.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Oswaldo finally finds his voice again, "How... How do you know my full name?"

I look him in the eyes, the weight of the moment pressing heavily upon me. "My name is Miller Brehier... I'm your son."

The atmosphere in the room becomes charged with tension. Oswaldo's face goes through a range of emotions, from disbelief to shock to pain. He stares at me, his mouth hanging slightly open, as if he has just seen a ghost.

"M-My... my son...? Miller?" he stammers, his voice filled with astonishment.

My parents look on in shock and disbelief, their eyes flickering between me and Oswaldo. My father can hardly believe what he's hearing, while my mother covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide.

Oswaldo's body trembles slightly as he stumbles back, almost as if trying to support himself against a nearby wall. "Is... Is it really you? Miller... my son... You're... you're alive?"

I stand up, letting my skeletal and malnourished figure be seen in full form. "It seems... I am still alive... Somehow."

Oswaldo's expression turns to one of horror and anguish as he fully takes in the state of my body. He can barely bring himself to look at me, his eyes filled with shock, grief, and disbelief.

"Miller, what... what happened to you?" he asks, his voice choked with emotion.

I look at my father with the same confusion. "You left us, Dad... Years ago... You left Gloriana, your wife, and me in our shack near the lake. One day you went out for work and never returned... Don't you remember?"

Oswaldo shakes his head, trying to piece together his fragmented memories, but there's a big blur and a mess in his recollection of events.

Oswaldo looks devastated, his mind struggling through the fragments of his memory. He seems to struggle to recall the details, but his eyes flicker with a hint of recognition. "I... I remember some of it, but I... I can't recall everything. It's all so hazy, like... like my memory was altered or tampered with."

Ellen's parents finally recall Oswaldo's accident that landed him in a coma for some days. They remember how, once he woke up, he could barely remember many things, including Gloriana and me. It was as if he thought we were a dream and that he was a different but similar man who had been living in Ellen's house as their butler, with no other home to go to. The family he dimly remembered seemed part of his dreams.

My parents begin to discuss in quiet whispers, pieces of the puzzle falling into place. They start talking about Oswaldo's previous accident, recalling his injury and subsequent coma. It dawns on them that Oswaldo's memory had never fully recovered, and he had forgotten about his wife and son.

"Dad... Did you forget about me? Did you forget about... Mom?" I ask, my voice filled with hurt.

Oswaldo's eyes well up with tears, his voice choked with emotion. "I... I didn't mean to forget, Miller. I... I honestly can't remember everything. It's all a blur, like... like it wasn't real. But hearing your voice... seeing you in front of me... it's awakening something deep inside me."

"Did you believe Mom and I were a dream?" I ask softly.

Oswaldo nods slowly, his expression one of shame and disbelief. "Yes... yes, I did. I thought you were just part of some dream, something I had imagined. I couldn't reconcile the vague images in my head with reality. I thought my memories were just fragments of a fantasy."

I look down, realizing how nothing that happened was my fault; it was just the product of an accident.

The room falls silent as the enormity of the situation settles upon everyone. Oswaldo gazes at me, his eyes filled with remorse and sadness. It's clear that he had no control over his amnesia, but that doesn't make the situation any less painful.

Oswaldo, his voice trembling, speaks softly to me, "Miller... please, come closer. Let me look at you properly."

I slowly take a few steps towards Oswaldo, allowing him to fully take in my appearance. His eyes roam over my emaciated body, taking in the evidence of my struggles and hardships.

Oswaldo's heart aches as he takes in the sight of me. His hands twitch at his sides, longing to reach out and touch me, but he holds back, afraid of the pain and guilt that might surge through him.

I look at him in the eyes and fail to contain the need to cry.

Oswaldo, witnessing my tears, can't hold back any longer. His own eyes well up, the tears slowly streaming down his cheeks. He reaches out a trembling hand and gently cups my face. His touch is light, shaky, as if he's afraid I might break. But there's a hint of desperation in his voice when he speaks again.

"M-Miller... you look so thin, so... so weak..."

Oswaldo continues to gaze at me, his heart breaking as he sees the evidence of my suffering. "What... what has happened to you all these years? Where have you been? How have you survived?"

With a shaky and struggling tone, I respond, "I don't know, Dad. Mom and I just hoped for you to somehow return... But after some time, we gave up... And barely had anything to eat... Mom's very frail and she must be very worried about me by now."

Oswaldo's expression becomes more and more broken as he listens to my words. The knowledge that Mom and I had to struggle for so long, hoping and waiting in vain, is like a dagger in his heart.

"Miller... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you and your mother. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of this alone," he says, his voice filled with deep regret.

I hold him close, wrapping my skinny arms around him. Oswaldo's body trembles as I embrace him. He feels the fragility of my bones, the gauntness of my form, and it breaks his heart all over again. He gently encircles his arms around me, holding me close, as if trying to shield me from the world that has hurt me so much.

Suddenly, from a nearby room, a sleepy gentleman emerges. He recognizes me in my father's arms; this man is Ellen's brother, Arthur, who also works as the counter gentleman from the pastry shop.

Arthur, rubbing his tired eyes, notices the scene unfolding in front of him and pauses. As his eyes fall upon me in Oswaldo's arms, recognition flickers across his face. Curiosity getting the better of him, he takes a few steps closer and peers at me, trying to place my identity in his mind. Then, realization seems to dawn upon him, and a mix of surprise and relief washes over his face.

Arthur's eyes widen slightly as he looks at the two of us, noticing the striking resemblance between me and Oswaldo. He lets out a soft gasp, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Miller...?"

I look at Arthur and ask, "Counter gentleman? From the pastry shop?"

Arthur nods, a small smile forming on his face as he confirms my question. "Yes, it's me. I work at the pastry shop. I knew you looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place it... until now."

"How do you know my name?" I ask, my voice filled with curiosity.