Oh my god. He actually meant it as a serious question.
I already have my student permit, yet Achi and Ma still don’t think I’m “ready” for the road. Like, how will I ever be ready if my family never lets me practice?
“Yeah, I can drive!” I hold up the car keys I sneaked out of the condo.
Although someone should’ve warned me that driving meant having to take on EDSA.
Just to be clear, I’m a good driver—above average even! Olivia Rodrigo could write a sequel to “drivers license” about how great my driving skills are. The only thing I haven’t really mastered is driving on the highway.
My hands are still clutching the wheel as I watch cars, buses, trucks, and motorcycles flood EDSA from my vantage point of the Connecticut Street junction. I make a detour and park at the gas station on the side of the road. I’ve decided that I will merge once everything calms down… which I’m pretty sure will be any minute now.
Twenty minutes later, I’m still on the edge of my seat, waiting for the right moment.
Any minute now!
A plus side to my impressive patience is that I have some more time to catch up with Pa. And at first, Pa actually seems to take my questions seriously.
While he’s pointing out all the buildings and billboards as ifhe didn’t spend my entire childhood driving me on this same street, I ask, “Have you been a ghost this whole time?”
Pa faces me and I try not to stare too much at his translucent arm. “I’m not really sure. A lot feels… blurry.” It seems like an eternity passes before his eyes smile back at me again. “I’m glad I’m here now, though.”
“And did you really show up because… I didn’t pagpag?”
Pa’s mood turns more upbeat then. “Didn’t I tell you that there’s magic behind superstitions?”
Watching Ma made me think that superstitions are based on fear. If we sweep the floor at night, we’ll be cursed with bad luck. If my pregnant cousin gives birth and takes a shower right after, she’ll attract tons of health complications later on. I first heard about the pagpag superstition when my amah passed away when I was really little. When Ma told me that there was a chance that the spirits would follow us home after the wake, I stayed up late multiple nights, praying that the ghosts wouldn’t find me. Pa was the one who made me less afraid.
He sat with me on my bed and whispered, “You know, I sometimes wish the pagpag superstition came true.”
When I asked him why, he said, “So I’d get to see my best friend again.”
Pa told me how he had to say goodbye to his best friend when he was in college. I remember Pa saying that if his best friend’s spirit followed him home, he would catch his friend up on all that he missed. He’d tell his friend about his wedding, everything about me and Jackie. My favorite story was when Pa recounted how his best friend was the one who made him fall in love with music, who taught him how to play the piano. Maybe that’s the origin story for why I don’t find ghost stories so scary. I started imagining ghost encounters as Pa taking piano lessons from his best friend.
I try learning more about Pa’s situation, but he starts becoming more and more evasive.
When I ask him if he knew he was coming back, Pa jokes, “You know who had a great comeback? Mariah Carey!”
“Where were you this whole time? Were you, like, roaming around, haunting people?”
“It’s not good manners to haunt people, Superstar.” Another joke and again, no elaboration.
I’m about to ask Pa how exactly he was able to come back when a car honks and swerves around us. “You might be blocking the entrance,” Pa says, so I move the car over to another empty space by the fuel pumps.
“We need to merge onto EDSA to get to the airport,” Pa reminds me.
“I know.”
“Just making sure.” He stares outside again when another car moves ahead.
“I’m waiting for the right moment,” I assure him.
“You don’t have to be so careful, Superstar. It’s not like you can kill me twice.”
I groan at his joke, then Pa coaches me to make small movements and inch Martha toward EDSA.
“Other cars aren’t going to stop for you, so you need to assert yourself.”
When I finally make my move, Pa cries out.
