Chapter 10
Something strange happens when we reach the NAIA airport.
Back in the condo, even entering his car, it took a while for Pa to register that his current body passes right through solid things.
I’ve noticed how he stops in front of doors for a moment before walking through them.
I also see the frustration cross his face whenever he can’t grip anything.
We make our way toward the airport entrance and join the queue when Pa glances at the building’s walls.
“Hey, Superstar,” he whispers. “I have an idea on how we can get inside faster.”
Pa moves from the line and floats straight to the entrance … and bumps his head.
After laughing it off, he tries again and knocks his head on the same spot.
For the third attempt, he backs up for some momentum, propels himself straight to the glass doors, and his body ricochets and falls on the sidewalk from the impact.
“No, no more.” I leave the line and stop Pa when I catch him considering trying again.
He squints and inspects the building. “Are you sure this is the right airport? The building looks different.”
“They made a new terminal for international flights,” I explain.
I try helping Pa, but he refuses when I reach for him.
I don’t really know what I was trying to do since my hands can’t hold him anyway.
When he gets up on his own, I suggest, “Why don’t we try waiting for the doors to open like normal people? ”
Pa tells me to go ahead and I fall in line with everyone queuing with their luggage carts and carry-on bags.
By the time I enter through the sliding doors, Pa falls in step behind me and crashes again.
People bump past me when I’m the only one in the crowd who sees my dad struggling to get up outside.
It’s like there’s an invisible force field blocking the airport from the rest of the world.
“I’m okay. Being a ghost helps with all the back pain.
” Pa tries to smile it off, but I see the slight wince when he touches his head.
If not for the powder complexion and the outfit that reminds me of Princess Leia’s from the older Star Wars movie Kayla made me watch (the all-white robes one, not the metal bikini one), he could really pass as any other human. Well, any other invisible human.
I block his way when he heads toward the entrance. He insists he’s fine, but I stand firm. “You’re not doing that again.” Ooh, look how the tables have turned. Usually, I’m the one my family needs to talk out of doing stupid things.
“It just takes some persistence. You can’t give up on the sun when it’s just about to rise.”
“Well…” I rack my brain for some proverbial response that will stop Pa from hurting himself. “What if the sun has already set?”
Pa hesitates and frowns. “Superstar, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why don’t we go somewhere else? There are lots of new things around Manila that you haven’t seen yet.”
“But what about snow?”
“We can do that later,” I say, willing my brain not to worry about why Pa can’t enter the airport.
Again, future Nika’s problem. Instead of wasting our time trying to break into an airport, I should get moving and squeeze in every opportunity for bonding time with Pa.
“There’s this new museum I think you’ll really like. ”
Yet, the pattern repeats everywhere we go.
When I bring Pa to the recently opened art museum, his body can’t cross the entrance.
I take him to visit a record store in Legazpi Village and he can’t even move his foot past the doors.
At our third stop, he hesitates a bit more and waits until there’s no one else around, but his body still bounces off the new Greenhills Mall.
Why doesn’t the universe want us to bond? !
I try to ignore the question that grows louder with every failure. If his ghost/spirit is losing his intangibility powers, does that mean his time is running out?
Despite the countless attempts, Pa still doesn’t seem fazed when we return to the car.
“Where to next?”
Unlike all the places we’ve tried going to, his body manages to pass through Martha’s car doors with no hitch. Maybe ghosts have more trouble with indoor places?
But Pa was perfectly fine when we were in the condo …
We both get distracted when my phone registers another phone call from Achi. “She’s fine,” I tell Pa when I grab my phone and press decline. “Achi’s gotten a lot more chill since you last saw her.”
did you seriously skip class again today????
DID YOU TAKE MY CAR
nika, i swear to god
you stole my car and now you’re not answering my calls
IF YOU DON’T COME HOME IN AN HOUR, YOU’RE GOING TO BE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE. I MEAN IT.
That last message was sent fifty-eight minutes ago. When Pa said that I could get “killed once,” I wonder if he was foreshadowing death at the hands of my sister.
I type in the condo address on my maps and clip it back on the dashboard. “Let’s drop by home first.”
Pa braces himself before entering the lobby doors, but he’s able to float straightaway, kind of like the superhero Flash when he runs through brick walls.
Even in the lobby, Pa’s arm is able to pass through the solid elevator doors back and forth.
“So does the intangibility thing just come and go?” I ask, stepping inside the elevator.
Pa pokes his head in after the doors close. “Hey, I can see right through this.”
I groan.
We stop on the third floor and Auntie Baby pops up when the elevator doors open.
“Annika?” She stops short. “You’re home early.”
The fact that she’s focused on my presence and not the reappearance of my late father clearly shows that she also doesn’t see Pa. If the passing-through-walls thing has been inconsistent, the invisibility power has been holding up in every scenario.
“Uh. We have a half day,” I explain when Auntie Baby’s still waiting for an answer.
“Really? I’m meeting up with Grace and she didn’t mention Kayla had a half day.”
“Oh, I took a half day.” I hold my stomach for emphasis. “Wasn’t feeling well.”
Like a light switch, Auntie Baby’s face turns from suspicious to worried. “Is your stomach hurting?” She places the back of her hand on my forehead. “Any fever? Body pains? LBM?”
I slowly nod while Auntie Baby tells me she’ll send over lugaw and reminds me to avoid dairy or greasy food.
After she starts sending me different WebMD articles on how to treat an upset stomach, my phone buzzes with multiple messages.
Ma: You have diarrhea? Since when??? —Beth
Kayla: Heard about the LBM from my mom! How’re you?
Seph: feel better, ilagan! sending good thoughts to your stomach and toilet!
… How did Auntie Baby manage to spread information that quickly? Forget CNN and social media. I should be tuning in to Auntie Baby’s gossip network for breaking news.
Pa floats closer to me and whispers, “Superstar. You know why my love for you is like LBM?”
Auntie Baby is busy on her phone, unaware of the impending dad joke.
“Because I can’t hold it in,” Pa says, chuckling.
I groan and hold my tongue.
“Uy, admit it. That joke was solid … unlike your diarrhea.”
Pa’s laughing so hard that I can’t resist laughing along too. Auntie Baby then stares at me—as one naturally would if they saw a girl laughing by herself out of nowhere.
“Sorry.” I hold my stomach again and gesture for Pa to keep it together. “Trying to laugh off the pain.”
Auntie Baby then insists on accompanying me to my unit to make sure I’m all right. When I unlock the front door, I’m prepared to use Auntie Baby to buffer Achi’s potential rage about borrowing Martha, but no one’s home.
While Pa hovers closely behind us, Auntie Baby tucks me into bed and places my medicine kit on the table beside me. She takes out the lotion, White Flower oil, baby powder, and starts rubbing the strange mix on my stomach.
“Feels better, right?” she asks. “When I was trying to get pregnant before, your Uncle Francis used to rub this on me, too, for good luck.”
It feels like she’s turning my stomach into papier-maché.
Auntie Baby washes her hands, then tells me she’ll get the leftover rice from her unit for the lugaw. “I’ll be right back,” she says when I insist that I’ll be okay on my own.
When she leaves, I try wiping the gunk off my stomach, but all the creams mixed together somehow turned into a glue.
“Hey, my stomach is that color too,” Pa says. Under my bedroom light, Pa’s complexion doesn’t appear as … translucent. If not for his feet floating inches above the floor, I think again how he could easily blend in as any other alive human being.
But he’s not.
Then it sinks in how ridiculous it is that I’m spending the little time I have with Pa getting treated for fake diarrhea.
“You must miss a lot of things since you’ve been gone, Pa,” I tell him, and grab my laptop. “Did you want to see a concert? There must be some band playing somewhere or someone doing Mariah Carey covers. Or karaoke? We can do karaoke!”
“Superstar.” Pa then tells me to calm down. “There’s nothing I miss more than you.”
I blink away the lump in my throat and keep going with my research. “You didn’t come back to just stay in my bedroom. We should make it more special.”
“This bedroom is special,” he argues.
“Pa.”
“What? The bedroom where I saw my two daughters grow up is special,” he says, and floats closer to the ceiling. “When I bought these snowflake stickers, I also found this instant snow powder at the toy store. I planned on surprising you with a whole bedroom covered in snow.
“But your mom was worried that you and Jackie would get allergies, so I promised to take you to see snow one day instead.”
He floats back down and takes a deep breath. “I broke all the promises I made to you girls, haven’t I?” Pa wipes his eyes, then gives an excuse that his allergies are stronger in the afterlife.
I reach to hold his hand, but my fingers just pass through his skin.
I move my hand closer to the scar above his left eye, and I try brushing it but only feel the air through my fingers.
After my sister told me the real story behind the scar, I’d often touch the spot on Pa’s face and ask him if it hurt.
I was never sure if he was telling the truth when he said no.
Although, the thing that I was always sure of?
Pa would’ve done anything for me. He still would.
My eyes then suddenly find the baby powder Auntie Baby left on the bedside table.
There’s an explosion of powder on my bed when I shake the bottle all over my pillow and sheets.
“What are you…” Pa gawks at me when I sprinkle more on the floor, on the bookshelf, on the desk. I climb up on the bed and cover the tops of the ceiling fan with powder.
More concern floods Pa’s face. “Are you feeling okay?”
“You promised to show me snow,” I explain, climbing back down. When I turn on the switch for the fan, it starts spreading powder all over the room—coating almost every inch in white. If I didn’t know any better, it really does look like snow falling from the sky.
“See, Pa?” I smile at him. “You kept your promise.”
Pa laughs and spreads out his arms to bask in it all. He even sticks out his tongue, trying to catch the powder falling from the fan. “Who knew snow tasted like Johnson’s baby powder?”
I laugh along with him while I start making snow angels with the powder blanketing the bedroom floor.
By the time I climb up on my bed again to refill the fan with more powder, I hear my bedroom door click open.
From the way Ma, Auntie Baby, and Achi are staring at me, you would think they’re the ones who’ve seen a ghost.