We lock eyes again and my heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat. My backpack and all the books I stuffed inside fall off my bed and crash on the floor… and I don’t care. Who cares about school, about my drenched pajamas, about my sister hogging the kitchen? Who cares when there’s a chance that this could really be my dad?
… Could it really be him?
…
“Pa?”
9
If I got a chance to see Pa again, what would I do?
The question has been in the back of my mind for years, but it was always a fantasy—something that was neveractuallygoing to come true.
So when the ghost of my father appears in my home, it makes sense that I would answer the current fantasy with another fantasy.
Ever since I was eight years old and Pa glued the snowflake stickers on my bedroom ceiling, he made a promise that he would take me to see actual snow one day. He passed away before we could make the trip, and right now could be our only chance.
“Shouldn’t we discuss this with your mom?” Pa asks when I press the elevator button for the parking level.
God. If Ma was already disappointed about me skipping chemistry, what’s she going to do when she finds out I’ve skipped to another country?
My mind pushes the thought away. There are bigger, more urgent priorities right now. Dealing with Ma could be future Nika’s problem.
“I can tell her when we’re about to board,” I tell Pa, and press the B1 button again when the elevator takes forever.
“If we’re flying somewhere to see snow, shouldn’t you be packing more things?” He gestures toward the tote bag hanging by my side. “And what about flight tickets?”
Airports must let you buy tickets there, right? I mean, it’s still a business. They wouldn’t turn down a paying customer. Shit. How much is in my bank account? Am I a customer whocan actually pay?! And did I check if my passport was really in my tote bag?
I consider going back to the condo to check when I remember how many minutes have already passed. No. I have absolutely no time to waste, to think, or breathe! Adding these all to my list of future Nika’s problems.
The elevator reaches our floor and I rush inside.
“Where is it even snowing at this time of year?”
“Pa.” I urge him when he’s still hovering by the elevator, asking me a million questions.
“Superstar, I’m always game for a spontaneous trip, but we should think some things through. You can’t ride a tiger without checking how tall it is first!”
My chest twists when I hear a classic Antonio Ilagan saying. While Ma is always hooked on superstitions, Pa loves giving advice that sounds like some ancient proverb.
I swallow the large lump in my throat when I say, “We might not have enough time.”
Pa’s face softens right there. It’s something I’ve been scared to ask—how long does Pa have before he leaves? How long do I have before he’s gone? When does future Nika’s problem become losing Pa again?
He proceeds to float to the spot where I am and smiles. “We’re off to see snow then.”
Pa’s body levitates a few inches higher when he spots his old silver Toyota.
“You kept Martha!” Pa beams.
Ma did a deep cleanse of everything Pa-related when he passed, but Achi asked to keep his car, whom he affectionately dubbed Martha Toyota. Even though Martha’s clock is brokenand her air-conditioning only works when she feels like it, my sister has never considered changing cars.
Pa excitedly reaches for the car door, then his hand passes right through the handle.
He tries again and all he manages to grasp is air.
“Cool magic trick, ‘no?” He laughs it off and turns to me. “Do you drive now, Superstar?”
