BIA Ch. 35

Bran remained unfazed. He simply spoke in a tone suggesting Isaiah’s words were incomprehensible.

“That’s right. This is Isaiah Diaz’s memory, anyway. It’s not even a real memory, it’s a memory you created. It’s highly likely your brain is remembering information seen on television or the internet in the past and recreating it at will.”

Bran’s tone was so certain that Isaiah became even more confused.

Could it be? Is this really… a false memory I created? But if that were the case…

“This is… no.”

“It’s not like that,”

Isaiah barely managed to say.

“It’s too vivid for something like that.”

“Then is everything else real?”

Bran said, as if he had been waiting.

“You being Latino? Your memories of being born in a port town and living alone with your mother?”

“…”

Isaiah was speechless again.

Bran looked at Isaiah quietly, then raised his coffee cup and said, “I won’t stop you if you really want to go, but it’s a futile effort. I guarantee it.”

At Bran’s firm words, Isaiah lowered his head helplessly. The face of a man who looked as if he would cry at any moment was reflected in the half-full teacup. Looking at that still unfamiliar face, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain in his heart.

This is not my face. But it is my face.

If so, I want to reclaim it. A soul that fits this face, a real memory.

Having made up his mind, Isaiah finally looked up again and spoke to Bran.

“Still, I want to go.”

Bran looked at Isaiah without taking his lips from his coffee cup. For a moment, Isaiah felt the urge to avert his eyes from the transparent golden eyes that seemed to see through everything, but he persevered and said what he had to say.

“It’s rare to have such a vivid memory. If I go, I might learn something.”

“Learn something?”

“The reason why I lost my memory or something like that.”

Bran drank his coffee silently. After finishing all the remaining coffee, not just one sip, he put down the empty cup and then spoke.

“Okay, then let’s go. If you insist.”

“Then right now…!”

“No, not today.”

“Because it’s time to go to work.”

Bran said, glancing at the wristwatch on his left hand.

“Oh, really? Then tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow, we have to attend the funeral.”

“Oh… right, I almost forgot.”

Seeing Isaiah force a smile, trying not to show his disappointment, Bran said, “Let’s go the day after tomorrow instead.”

“If it’s Liberty Harbor, it’s only a two-hour drive. Leaving after breakfast, having lunch there, and coming back should be plenty of time.”

“The day after tomorrow? Good!”

Isaiah saved Blue Shrimp’s address in his smartphone to avoid getting lost. He also used Google Maps to check the exact travel time.

Bran silently observed all of this. When Isaiah finally finished and put his smartphone back in his pocket, Bran stood up.

“Then, shall we head back?”

It was a little after four in the afternoon when they arrived at Bran’s house.

“Are you going straight to work?”

“I have to.”

Bran, who had changed into his suit jacket and was preparing to leave, looked at Isaiah curled up on the living room sofa.

“If you’re bored, why not practice shooting in the basement practice room?”

“I would rather watch a movie.”

He enthusiastically grabbed the remote control from the table, but when it came to setting up the OTT service, he had no idea what to do.

“Give it to me.”

Bran took the remote and launched Netflix himself. Isaiah, receiving the remote again, scanned the movie genres, muttering as if to himself.

“What’s fun?”

“Well, if it’s a recommendation for you, how about Donnie Brasco? Or Infernal Affairs?”

“What are they about?”

“Content you don’t need to watch.”

What the hell does that even mean?

However, as soon as Bran left the house, Isaiah started Donnie Brasco. He hadn’t found anything particularly appealing on the list.

Before watching, he looked up a synopsis online. He immediately understood Bran’s comment. The film depicted FBI agent Donnie Brasco (real name Joe Pistone) infiltrating the mafia, based on a true story from 1978.

I have to watch this. I must watch this. Isaiah eagerly pressed play, but gave up in less than ten minutes. The visuals were too bleak, the story too dark. Above all, the characters were all incredibly shabby. While understandable given the 1978 setting, it was difficult for his nineteen-year-old sensibilities to tolerate. The dissonance was amplified by the fact that the current owner of this house, the mafia member he had just shared coffee with, belonged to a race as elegant as royalty. Even Chester, though thin, had a fair, attractive face and was always adorned in dazzling designer clothes.

He tried other movies, but nothing caught his interest. Infernal Affairs wasn’t even on Netflix.

Finally, Isaiah turned off the television and went upstairs to the second floor.

Entering the study, he glanced at the bookshelves before approaching Bran’s desk. A familiar book lay there. Slaughterhouse-Five.

Isaiah picked up the book. He tried to flip through it, but a folded page stopped him. Just as he was about to read the folded page, his smartphone buzzed in his back pocket. It was Chester. The clingy man who usually called incessantly had only just made his first call of the day. He must have just woken up.

“What were you doing?”

Sure enough, a groggy voice greeted him. He had celebrated a bit too enthusiastically last night; his hangover was palpable even through the phone. Served him right.

“Just… being.”

Isaiah answered, perching on the edge of the desk.

“Free, huh.”

Chester chuckled. For a moment, the normalcy of the exchange bothered him. Isaiah deliberately injected annoyance into his tone.

“It’s not that I’m free. I’m trapped in here because of the corpse in the hallway. Would you please have it removed?”

“I told you to wait until after the funeral.”

Chester snapped back, equally irritable. He ranted for a while about how no one was forcing Isaiah to stay there, finally yelling into the phone,

“If you hate being cooped up here so much, why don’t you go to that Mountain Dog place you were so obsessed with?”

“And do what there?”

“Anything. Who knows, maybe it’ll jog your memory.”

It had been a spur-of-the-moment suggestion but Chester seemed to think it was a brilliant idea and started pushing him.

“Yes, instead of just holing up in the house, do something. You have to regain your memory somehow and quickly.”

He then ordered Isaiah to go to Mountain Dog immediately, saying he would send Manny there right away. Isaiah couldn’t refuse.

Hanging up, Isaiah left the study and went to the guest room on the third floor. He figured he should at least bring his M1911, even if unloaded, to meet Manny.

He grabbed the gun and pulled out his phone to send a quick message to Bran then stopped. He realized he didn’t have Bran’s number.

“Sh!t.”

Isaiah cursed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Bran had said he would be late today anyway, so it was a problem he could address upon his return.

Outside, the sky had grown even darker. Threatening rain, Isaiah quickly hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of Mountain Dog he had looked up online.

It being Friday, the club was packed from the entrance. He squeezed inside and spotted Manny, who had arrived first. Sitting at a table near the bar, Manny frowned as soon as he saw him.

“Crazy, next you’ll be hitting the library. Where did you even get those clothes?”

…Dxmn, I forgot to change.

He had spent the last three days traipsing around in clothes that screamed “club kid withdrawal,” yet here he was, at an actual club, dressed in a gray raglan hoodie that looked like a university library uniform. The timing couldn’t have been worse.