by Nicola de Vera
“Excuse me, sir. Hi, I’m Jacob. I’m a photographer. Would you mind if I take a few photos of you? They’re just for my website. I’m working to build my portfolio.”
“Take as many as you need, young man.” Seated by the bus stop, Jacob’s subject was a gray-haired gentleman that looked like he was in his late 80’s, decked out in a maroon plaid flannel shirt and a navy blue coat.
“Thank you, sir. This won’t take long, I promise.” Jacob was relieved since he had too many people turning him down that day. He then proceeded to take photos of the old man, at different angles and focal lengths.
“Call me, Everett.”
“Everett. You don’t hear a name like that much these days. It’s a shame; it’s a classic name. Do you live close by?”
“I do. Just right around the block.”
“Do you have family that lives with you?”
“No. My wife passed away four years ago. We never had children.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. Her name was Aurora. We were together for almost 60 years. Just the two of us. She was my whole world. We had a beautiful life.”
“I bet. It sounds like she was lucky to have you. ”Everett smiled, as if remembering moments with his late wife.
“Well, Everett, I truly appreciate the time. Thanks for letting me capture a tiny slice of your life.” Jacob extended his hand toward Everett, but Everett didn’t extend his hand in return. “You’re welcome, young man. Good luck.”
Jacob quickly scanned his camera for the images he took of Everett, going over them as if to make sure that the images turned out okay, then he rushed back to his apartment. As Jacob returned to his home, he pulled out the memory card from his camera and inserted it into the card reader for the photos to be transferred to this laptop. As the images started to load, the final outputs turned out similarly as the previous images he had recently taken of other strangers. He could see the bus stop sign, the green metal bench, the backdrop of mom-and-pop establishments, and the glare from the afternoon sunlight. But one notable piece was missing. There was no sign of Everett.
It started about a week ago. Jacob went about his days approaching people from all walks of life, asking them if he could take their photos as he built out his portfolio. Oftentimes, they declined. But for the handful of people who said yes, Jacob happily took their photos and conversed with them about snippets of their life, making them comfortable in the process. However, each day, Jacob came home perplexed, as he scanned through a collection of subject-less photos. As if the strangers vanished in the digital space. As if they did not exist to begin with.
The following day, Jacob invited his friend Cady to accompany him at the street fair by the beach. The weekend prior, they just went on a spontaneous road trip, so dragging Cady along again on short notice wouldn’t have been a problem. It would have been less exciting to go alone, but he also needed someone else to validate that he wasn’t going insane.
“I want ice cream. Do you want ice cream? I’ll get us some ice cream,” Cady briefly left to line up at the ice cream stall as Jacob identified his next subject.
He found a woman sweeping and picking up litter. She looked right around his mother’s age and seemed to be Filipino or Latina—he was never really quite sure. “Hi, miss! So sorry to bother you. I’m Jacob. Do you mind if I take a few photos of you? It’s for my online portfolio. It will just take a few seconds.” The woman nodded and proceeded to stand still, with sealed lips and unmistakable tired eyes. Jacob looked around to find Cady to make sure she was there to see him in action, but she was nowhere to be found. He started taking photos anyway.
“Do you have kids?” She nodded. “Do you get to see them often?” Jacob continued to ask questions, without removing his right eye from his camera’s viewfinder. She shook her head. “They’re far away,” she finally spoke. “Oh, sorry to hear that. I hope you get to reunite soon though.” The woman smiled as Jacob looked around again for any signs of Cady.
“All right, give me one more minute as I adjust some settings,” Jacob said, stalling until Cady finally arrived.
“Hey! Why were you taking photos of a garbage bin? I thought you needed portraits,” Cady said as she handed Jacob his ice cream.
“What are you talking about? She’s right there—”But the woman was nowhere to be found. “I swear, I was just taking photos of this woman. She’s part of the maintenance staff,” Jacob insisted as he scrolled through his images, but they betrayed him, showing only images of a garbage bin and people walking behind.
“Are you on something? There literally isn’t anyone there.” Cady asked. “No, but I probably should be. I might be going crazy,” Jacob responded.
“Well, let’s go find more people to bother then,” Cady suggested.
Unfortunately, for the rest of the day, no one else agreed to have their photos taken, which Jacob and Cady found odd. It wasn’t ideal; the day definitely did not go as planned. So they decided to take photos of each other instead, like they did in their last road trip and many other shared experiences they’ve had in their over ten years of friendship—evidence of their lives immortalized in images. As the sun started to set, Jacob and Cady headed towards the ocean, as if the setting sun on the horizon was calling out to them.
They walked together, with their heads held high—but there were no portraits, no answers, and no shadows to be found.
Nicola de Vera (she / her) is a queer writer born and raised in Manila, Philippines. She now lives in Los Angeles, trading one city of tropics & traffic jams for another. She holds a BA in Communication from Ateneo de Manila University and an MBA from Cornell University. When off from her full-time job in product management, she reads, writes, and cheers for Angel City FC. Find her on Instagram. @_nicoladv.
