I Know Who You Are

"Who am I?"

I hold your hands. You are giggling; waiting for my answer. How long have we been playing this game? Three weeks? Five weeks? Ah…I can’t mark any dates anymore.

Our life was easy, full of adventure and excitement. You were carefree. You loved spontaneity. At first it was disorienting, but love can change any person struck with it. One time I said the weather was hot, you suggested “Let us go to Baguio¹”. Instantly, we were on the road for an eight hour drive. Long trips with you were just like minutes. You never ran out of stories to tell or even songs to sing. Now, this made me wonder. Had I ever switched on the radio on those days? I don't remember.

One time, you greeted me with a request to go to Tagaytay². You were craving for bulalo³. My head spun at the thought of driving again instead of resting after a full day’s work. So I refused. You did the pouty face. We headed for Tagaytay. Luckily, there was no traffic we could get there in less than an hour. I noticed that on this particular trip you were silent. You simply reasoned that you were tired of speaking. "Then why not sing?" I suggested; still no spark. I was greatly troubled because it was something unusual. Out of the blue, you turned on the radio. The DJ announced the program’s ID station, CROSSOVER. Music filled our car. Your eyes were closed while an old song played, Mr. DJ can I make a request...then it stopped. A familiar voice took over. It was you telling a story about a wife’s daily routine while the husband was away for work. I was perplexed. What's the thing that persuaded the DJ to play your recorded story? I waited until the your recorded voice said, “…the wife was pregnant with their first child. That's why she was craving bulalo”. The car screeched, the door swung and out I screamed with joy…I am a FATHER!

That was an eight year wait.

The ultrasound showed a healthy baby girl. We were both blissful. We even marked on the calendar her arrival. We thought of names for her. Trisha, Aisha, Elizabeth, Victoria…in the end, we decided to let her come out first. The name that will cross our mind on that day will be her name.

The crib, clothes and even toys were almost complete. When one day, my cell phone registered 12 missed calls...3:08...3:09...3:10...3:11...3:12...It was already six o'clock! Management meeting had just adjourned. I hurriedly called back but someone else answered. It was Mrs. Cruz, our neighbor. She said you were in the hospital. The car flew in the air. I was hanging in tension. I couldn’t think and hardly breathe. When I opened room 405, I saw you staring at the blank wall. Your hands were on your flat stomach. The doctor called to get my attention and explained what happened. He said something about stillbirth…that we could have a thorough test to find out the cause…that this rarely happens to…Those had become fragments of information; my whole concern was about you, your blank expression and unblinking eyes.

“Doctor, what about my wife?”

Days passed, weeks passed, months passed yet you remained silent: no words, no tears, no smiles. One year later, I decided to resign from work to give more time to you. Hoping you could face reality once again. One day, I saw you glued on the old calendar in our bedroom. Your slim face flushed red. The next day, you surprised me by covering my eyes while I was watching on television. You asked, "Who am I?". I grabbed your hands and faced you, "I know who you are. You are my wife. You are Amelia."

There was no response after that. You went back to our room and stared at the calendar. However, hearing you voice again was good enough. After a few weeks, you played the game again. I answered the same thing and you responded on the same manner. But on one particular day, you answered back, “No, I am Emilyne”. It moved me. I was in deep thought. When did this name occur to you? Was it when you were in great pain and expecting for her coming?

“Who am I?” asking for the third time. Still giggling; waiting for my answer.

I took a deep breath and answered, “Emilyne. Yes, her name is Emilyne.”

Slowly you remove your hands which fall limply on my shoulders. I turn to see you. You look straight at me whispering her name.

My shirt is now wet with your tears. Today, I know you are back.

Baguio City¹ is the “Summer Capital” of the Philippines. Its cool climate is an ideal place to escape the lowland heat. It is around 250 kilometers away from Manila.

Tagaytay City² is also a popular tourist destination for its cool climate and outstanding scenery. It is around 55 kilometers away from City of Manila.

Bulalo³ is a beef dish from the Philippines. It is a light colored soup that is made by cooking beef shanks and marrow bones until the collagen and fat has melted into the clear broth. Bulalo is native to the Southern Luzon region of the Philippines. -Wikipedia