Chapter 41
It was naive of me to think that Ma let go of all her superstitions. The moment she sets foot inside the condo, it’s like the superstitiousness switches to overdrive.
“Your father is a lost soul,” she keeps repeating to me and Achi. “There are souls who roam around our world and then give up their shot at heaven. We need to help him find his way!”
For this to happen, Ma’s big plan includes baking enough food to feed a small country. She’s been making buns, rolls, pies, cakes—any pastry you can think of, it’s currently being prepped in our kitchen. I don’t know, maybe in Ma’s mind, ghosts find their way more easily when they’re well-fed.
An even more bizarre request she gave me: “Nika, go get a butterfly net!”
I’ve never owned a butterfly net and I have no idea where in the world to find one. When I mentioned that Pa first showed up as a butterfly, Ma said we should cover all the bases in case he comes back as a winged insect.
“Pretty good, right?” I ask my sister.
I used my half-broken badminton racket and tied a plastic bag to the head’s frame. Ta-da! Makeshift butterfly net.
Achi doesn’t give me credit for my resourcefulness. “You and Ma aren’t thinking straight.”
“A butterfly wouldn’t know the difference between the real thing,” I say, swooshing the racket.
She checks if Ma is still occupied with the pie in the oven. “Superstitious beliefs are Ma’s coping mechanism,” Achi stresses when Ma’s out of earshot. “She wants to feel control over her life, so she believes in things like butterflies and lost souls.”
Normally, I’d be on the same page. I still stand by science despite my spotty chemistry attendance.
Yet my same rational brain feels better when I have my hair tie on my wrist. The same rational brain spent the past forty days with Pa’s ghost that was invisible to everybody else.
So maybe part of me sees where Ma’s coming from and can understand why a butterfly flying into our home can mean so much more.
I guess it can’t hurt to believe in things that are bigger than our world.
That’s the moment I start thinking of all the things that Pa believes in. If anything’s going to draw him back here, it’s not the food or Ma’s buko pie.
I leave my sister with the butterfly net and ransack my bedroom for where he left the cards, photos, letters he stored in his piano bench.
Together, I dig up my memories too—all the photo albums, the ticket from our Battle of the Bands performance, a snowflake sticker from the ceiling, Ma’s necklace with the butterfly pendant—maybe gathering all this in one place will be enough.
Nobody notices me once I return.
After placing everything on the table in front of the couch, I call out to Achi, “By the way, I’m telling Pa you didn’t believe in him when he shows up!”
She doesn’t even give me a response.
Not a single word from my sister or my mother.
Actually, there aren’t any of the usual chaotic baking noises coming from the kitchen. No signs of my ma yelling out instructions or my sister bouncing between the hundred dishes being made. I walk in their direction to find Achi and Ma standing still, staring at an upturned soup bowl on the floor.
“What’s that?”
Still, nothing from them. They’re frozen in place, mesmerized by the sight of the soup bowl. Maybe I’m the one who turned into a ghost.
But when I actually do something and nudge the bowl with the side of my foot, Achi suddenly grabs my ankle. I have to hold on to the edge of the counter so I don’t fall and crack my head.
“Do you want me to die?!”
She just scoffs at that. “I barely touched you.”
I turn to Ma to make sure she witnessed what just happened.
“A butterfly flew in and we placed a bowl over it,” Ma explains.
“He’s under there?” I gape at Ma and at the tiny bowl.
Achi stops me again when I try reaching for it. “He might get away!” she protests.
“Weren’t you just saying that you didn’t believe in the stuff about souls and butterflies?”
“I still don’t want to hurt the animal.”
“You should be more concerned if we’re hurting our father.”
Then a familiar voice chimes in. “Who’s hurting your father?”
All three of us freeze when we see Pa appear on his spot by the couch. If he’s some sort of mirage or hallucination, this time, my whole family is having the same one.
“Ton? Ton!” The bowls and spoons Ma was holding crash on the floor when she yells and rushes toward him. Ma keeps patting him everywhere, checking if he’s all right.
Pa slowly moves his hand to Ma’s face, eyes widening that he’s able to touch her. Cradling Ma’s face, he tells his wife, “I missed you so much, sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart, you have no idea.” Ma’s eyes are glistening when she pulls Pa in for a kiss.
For a moment, I wonder if Achi doesn’t see him. Unlike Ma, she hasn’t moved or said a word. “He’s right there.” I help her and point in Pa’s direction.
“Jackie?”
My sister’s still frozen when he says her name.
“You came back,” she says in one breath. “I can’t believe you came back.”
Before Pa can answer, Achi runs and wraps her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I missed you so much, Pa,” Achi chokes out while Pa sinks into her hug.
My heart swells to a thousand sizes when he meets my eye. “I had to see you all again.”
This is it, right? Pa is here. He’s back for good?
“Look, I gathered everything here.” I spread out the photos on the table in front of Pa. “In case you feel yourself disappearing, we can keep re-creating any of these memories.”
“Nika…”
The tone in his voice is not what I’d expect from someone who had just vanquished death.
“Or when that doesn’t work, maybe we can always keep going back to the cemetery and breaking pagpag…”
“I only have a few hours.”
All words escape me when I see the look on Pa’s face.
“Beth, I promised you that I would take care of you, protect our family. That I would do anything to keep our daughters safe. I’m … so sorry for leaving you.” His breath shudders when he wipes his eyes. “I was going to leave quietly, spare you all the pain again.”
My throat tightens when Pa looks at me and Achi. “But I wanted to see my girls one more time.”
My sister’s the one who voices out my biggest wish.
“Then stay,” Achi says, the words coming out so soft.
“That’s not how the world works.”
The look on my dad’s face breaks my heart. “I tried … I really did try.”
A buzzing, tingling sensation appears when my hand closes on Pa’s skin.
I can feel the weight of everything he’s been carrying when I cup and cradle his face with my palm, graze the scar above his left eye.
I was willing to do anything to bring Pa back for good, and I still would.
Part of me wants to keep fighting. I desperately want to tell Pa that I’d commit to being stuck in the past if that meant keeping him around.
His voice is defeated when he whispers, “I hope you can forgive me one day, Superstar.”
Out of everyone, I’m realizing that my father is the one who deserves to move on.