“Don’t close your eyes! You might hit something!”
“I thought you said I couldn’t kill you twice!” I say, barely keeping my eyes open.
“But you could kill yourselfonce!”
Pa tells me to keep going despite my knuckles turning white from gripping the wheel. When I manage not to get run over or hit by a bus, I realize… oh my god, I’m driving along EDSA!
There’s the usual Monday traffic jam where all the cars including us are pretty much crawling down the highway, but still.
“I’m driving along EDSA!”
I feel like a dork for saying it out loud, but Pa proudly echoes, “You’re driving along EDSA.”
“Should we celebrate with some music?” His hand tries to push the car stereo knob and his face falls when his fingers slip through. I turn on the radio for him and he brightens when the familiar “doo-doo-doo” melody rings through the speakers.
“Is that really—”
“Uy!” Pa smiles and slaps his knee. “It’s Mariah!”
Mariah Carey’s voice fills the car and Pa immediately starts bobbing his head. He waits for me to sing along, but I tell him to go ahead. I give some excuse that I like focusing on the road when I’m driving.
I laugh when Pa trills his lips and makes blubbering noises. “Need to warm up my vocals.” He massages his jaw and sings the phrase “Pa! Pa! Pa!” in different scales. By the time he’s done warming up, the song’s already in its final chorus. Pa jumps in and the flattest sounding note escapes his mouth when he tries belting with Mariah.
He beams when another Mariah song comes on the radio. “I feel like being a ghost improved my vocal range.”
It’s just like the million car rides I took as a kid. Being stuck in traffic while Pa in front remains unbothered since Mariah is playing on the stereo.
Whenever I fantasized about Pa coming back, I always wished he would show up in the big moments—graduation, when I become some CEO of a company, score a Tony, a Grammy (or both). I haven’t thought about how much I miss him during the small moments too.
Pa stops humming along to “Fantasy” when he turns to me. “What’s wrong?”
I wipe the tears rolling down my cheeks. “Just emotional about driving through EDSA.”
“Well, it’s a big deal, Superstar.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It really is.”
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.
