“Kept everything you girls gave me.”
He literally did. There’s a paper butterfly folded inside that I made for Pa when I had an “origami” phase.
“You made me promise to keep this in case the butterfly would come to life.”
Another memorable fight in the ongoing Nika vs Jackie saga: my sister freaking out when I folded her quiz papers into hearts. She got even more pissed when I said I’d fold her a bigger heart so she wouldn’t get mad at me all the time.
“I still have the vision board your sister made in high school.”
Oh god. How can I forget about Achi’svision board. She took that assignment so seriously that it hijacked our whole bedroom. Everywhere I turned, there were magazine cutouts, colored paper, photo albums. And the few times I would complain about the mess, Achi would always say that I was disrupting her “vision.”
Despite multiple previous attempts, this is the first time I’m actually seeing what’s inside this famous vision board notebook.
It opens to a pop-up map where you can drag a cutout Jackie in a plane to different parts of the globe. No wonder my sister was salutatorian. She was so extra with every single assignment.
When I grow up, I want to travel to every continent and learn more about how other people in other cultures live their lives. My dream is to get a PhD and see the world.
“Did your achi get to go to Australia yet?” Pa asks. “She told me that would be her first stop.”
My sister has never mentioned anything about traveling. Her college friends invited her to go to Boracay after their graduation and she stayed behind because “What will I learn if I go to the beach?”
It’s why it didn’t make sense when I saw her suddenly apply to schools in freaking Florida.
“Maybe Achi’s dreams changed when she got older,” I tell Pa.
I keep exploring more sections of her notebook when Pa tells me to go to the last page.
Maybe my sister figured out how to add a 3D installation of Florida.
Wait. Why am I in the notebook?
On one of the last few spreads, there’s a collage of picturesfrom my childhood performances. She decorated the area around the collage with stars and music notes too. My sister even saved the ticket stubs to my shows and laminated them so the print hasn’t faded one bit.
At the bottom, Achi wrote:My little sister is my favorite person to watch perform. She’s probably going to be a superstar someday.
I try to wipe my eyes on my sleeve, but Pa already notices. His thumb brushes my cheek when a tear slides down my face. “I thought she hated it when you called me Superstar.”
“Why?” he asks. “She called you Superstar first.”
But didn’t my sister find my singing annoying? During our car rides to school growing up, Achi always said that no one asked to hear me sing when Pa and I had jam sessions.
While I’m still getting choked up on Achi’s vision, Pa asks if I can do him a favor.
“I was thinking about writing letters to Beth and Jackie. Would you leave my notes with them?” he asks. “There are things I want to tell them before… I go.”
It’s like the blood in my body goes cold at the thought.
“Maybe you don’t have to go.”
He’s already shaking his head. “Those aren’t the rules.”
Every time I try reasoning with him, pointing out that we’ve been breaking all his “rules,” he still doesn’t budge. If Pa can walk on the ground, if his hands can play the piano, then surely it’s a sign that he’s coming alive—that he can stay here longer than the forty days.
When he asks me again if I can deliver his letters, an idea dawns on me.
“What if you can talk to Ma and Achi?” I ask.
I keep talking before he has time to argue. “Ma almost saw you during the soiree! If we continue re-creating your memories from high school, maybe Ma can see you for real.
