Chapter 7
“Dr. Derrick had no right to be there. And Ma should’ve at least asked us before inviting him! I’m sure he’s the last person you’d want to see on your death anniversary!”
I’m pacing around my room and rambling to the picture of my dead father on my bed.
The upside of my meltdown: I finally figured out how to talk to Pa. It turns out, all I need is to become completely unhinged.
I fold my hands above my head while my phone keeps buzzing with notifications from Achi and Ma.
Ma: Annika, where are you? —Beth
Ma: We reserved for lunch at 12 if you want to go straight there. —Beth
Ma: Remember, don’t go straight home! —Beth
Ma: Please answer so I know that you’re safe. —Beth
Achi: HOY!!!!! ANSWER!!!! DO YOU ENJOY SHOOTING UP MA’S BLOOD PRESSURE?!
The image of Dr. Derrick showing up at the cemetery kept replaying in my head, and all I wanted was revenge. So I didn’t drop by a McDo or a Chinese restaurant—I went straight home, daring the whole universe to let the spirits into our condo.
I still stand by being in the right and that Dr. Derrick was way out of line. But now that my blood has cooled down, other things are going through my mind. God. Ma looked so crushed when I shouted at her.
“You’re on my side, right?” I ask, turning to Pa’s picture.
His stern, stone-faced eyes stare back at me.
I really hate that Achi picked out this photo for Pa’s display.
It’s the headshot he used for his warehouse business.
Unlike the Piano Man in the YouTube videos, Boss Antonio Ilagan is always in corporate attire, arms folded, signifying that he commands the room and always means business.
And what I hate most about the picture is how edited it is.
Achi said that Pa’s company wanted his profile to look “presentable,” but it looks like the photo flattened and brushed off features that made Pa … Pa.
The photo completely edited out the scar on top of Pa’s left eye.
Whenever I asked him about his scar, Pa always joked that it was his “magical scar” that made him see better.
Achi only told me the real story years later—that Pa got the scar when I was a baby.
She said that he dove and grabbed me when a ceiling fan almost fell on my stroller.
After more check-in messages from Ma, I quickly send her an I’m ok message with a thumbs-up emoji.
Ma heart-reacts it while Achi messages: i’m ok?!?!?!?! that’s all you’re going to say???
I groan and grab Pa’s picture to mope in the kitchen. Aside from the gnawing guilt eating up my insides, my stomach’s also been rumbling from skipping lunch. Pa’s eyes keep following me while I search through the kitchen for something to heat up.
That’s when I find the six-pack box of siopaos. These were the ones I was supposed to give Seph for walking with me from school.
I can already feel the judgment from Pa’s picture frame.
“If I eat these, then I can give Seph a fresh batch,” I argue. “And you know how Ma hates it when people don’t eat her siopaos right away.”
The judginess continues to exude from the photo.
While I rip the tape sealing the box, I also flip Pa’s picture so he’s facing away from me.
I’ve officially reached a new low. My morals have completely gone out of the window, and all it took was an annoying dentist and an empty stomach.
As I’m about to reach for the first siopao, I jump when the bathroom door slams open out of nowhere. I carefully walk through the corridor and find the room empty.
My heart thumps faster when the ceiling lights start flickering.
Seeing Ma obsess over these superstitions made me anxious around them too. Even when my rational mind picks away at the missing logic, I still get paranoid when I don’t follow Ma’s pamahiin properly.
Come on, Nika. The lights blink all the time. It’s just the electricity.
But to be safe, I check the living room, the bedroom, and the bathroom again. Despite confirming many times that I’m alone in the condo, that feeling of being followed never lifts.
The front door is locked, the windows are shut, there’s nothing under the beds. Once I return to the kitchen, I reach for my siopao and accidentally knock Pa’s portrait off the table. My heart stops when I pick it up and stare at the slightly cracked picture frame.
…
…
Why is Pa smiling?!
I rub my eyes and it doesn’t change. I’ve looked at this photo for years and Pa was always frowning in this picture every single time.
Shit. Isn’t this what happened to the girl at the beginning of the Pagpag movie … right before her dead boyfriend popped up?
Then I remember the whole reason for the pagpag pamahiin: If you don’t make a pit stop, spirits will follow you home.
I quickly go inside my room and plug in Pa’s old phone. When it comes to life, I check its activity: recent messages, calls, Google searches. There’s nothing new.
Opening his messages app, I type: are you here?
My finger hovers before I send it—almost expecting a text bubble to appear, signaling that someone else is typing.
…
What. is. wrong. with me.
I am a woman of science, a woman who stands by research!
These are all side effects of hunger and guilt.
Slapping myself out of this nonsense, I leave the phone, the picture frame, and quickly wrap the siopao back up and stuff it inside the box.
When I leave the unit and head to the elevator, I resist the urge to check over my shoulder.
I don’t think about the constant feeling that someone’s still following me all the way to Unit 3H.
“Auntie!” I say when Auntie Baby opens the door. I’ve never been so relieved to see another human being.
“Annika?” Auntie Baby steps out. “Di ho se bo? Why aren’t you at the memorial?”
“I’m good, I’m good! I was just going to drop off something for Seph.” I lift the siopao box for evidence.
A huge smile lights up her face at the mention of her son’s name. “Wow, how sweet naman! You’re giving gifts to each other!”
“Actually, this is from Ma—”
Auntie Baby is already hurrying me inside her unit where I see Auntie Grace sitting at the kitchen table.
When Auntie Grace waves me over to join her, I have to walk past the “Moseph King” shrine.
Auntie Baby’s condo unit has an entire shelf that’s dedicated to all of Seph’s achievements.
There are soccer medals, framed report cards, his blown-up elementary school graduation photo.
Just in case you ever forget that Seph was once a child actor, the top shelf is decorated with pictures from his plays, the jersey he wore from the High School Musical Trumpets production, and a signed movie poster of Pagpag: Nine Lives.
Auntie Baby offers me a chair and then hands me water in a mug with Seph’s signature line: “My heart is yours!”
“Seph just came home from rehearsal, but he’ll be ready soon. Grace and I were just looking through our old yearbook.” Auntie Baby then purses her lips. “I keep telling your mom to pick hers up since it’s been collecting dust in the alumni office for years.”
“Auntie, is that you?” My eyes widen when I see a younger Auntie Grace look-alike in a leotard posing on top of a six-person pyramid.
“Grace was dance captain,” Auntie Baby chimes in.
Auntie Grace frowns when we flip through the dance troupe pages. “For an all-girls Catholic school, they really shouldn’t have allowed us to dress like that.”
“It’s good to flaunt the Lord’s creation,” Auntie Baby says, shimmying her shoulders. “We’re still sexy and desirable, Grace! You should take out some of the old dance troupe outfits. Kasya pa kaya sa akin? Maybe I can wear it to Homecoming.”
While Auntie Baby tells Auntie Grace that they’re too young to be dressing like grandmothers, I go through the yearbook searching for signs of Ma. My heart then stops when I stumble upon the prom section.
It’s a picture of my parents smiling and holding hands with the caption underneath: Soiree before the big day!
“Wow, look how totoy Ton was before.” Auntie Baby points at the picture.
“Can you imagine if I married the boy I went to prom with? Have you heard the news about Grant Sy?”
“That he has a mistress?” Auntie Grace’s gaze flickers to the ceiling and she does the sign of the cross. “He even brought the woman to church! There were pictures of them kissing in front of Father Melvin!”
Auntie Grace shows her phone with a blurry photo of a man pecking another woman on the cheek during Mass.
“Imagine!” Auntie Grace says, outraged. “Offering the sign of peace to your mistress!”
Auntie Baby shakes her head. “You know, that’s why his hairline keeps receding—karma! Grant used to have such good hair. I remember I used to brush my fingers through his hair and it felt so soft.”
Auntie Baby then turns to me. “Don’t be like me and get swayed by good hair, Nika. Just because a boy’s head has good hair on the outside, doesn’t mean he has a good mind on the inside. Thank goodness your Uncle Francis has both!”
My own mind is too caught up with my parents to digest Auntie Baby’s dating advice.
“Were my parents already together here?”
“I think this is when they first met.” Auntie Baby looks to Auntie Grace for confirmation.
“Ah yes, I remember it was the soiree that Beth hosted before prom with the Saint Francis boys.”
“And we had to play this ridiculous game. We had to pair up with a Saint Francis boy, hold an ice cube in between our hands, and keep talking until the ice melted.”
“Beth didn’t find it ridiculous, though,” Auntie Grace adds.
Auntie Baby scoffs. “Those two kept talking long after the ice cube melted. They really were in their own world back then.” Auntie Baby sighs and squeezes my arm before standing up. “Don’t bring this up with your mother, okay? It’s hard for her to remember the past.”
I nod as if my sister doesn’t give me the same kind of lecture weekly.
Auntie Grace mentions that they should head out before rush hour traffic. “Nika, do you want to ride with us to the memorial?”
“Oh, I’m okay.”
“Is anyone bringing you there?” Auntie Grace asks.