To my surprise, Kuya Jepoy shakes his head. “I’m just here to wish you happy birthday and bid you all goodbye.”
“You didn’t tell me that. I thought you were coming with us.” Ate Nadine’s eyes narrow. There’s an accusing tone in her voice. “Where are you going? ”
Kuya Jepoy stares at his feet. “Home.”
“Will you come back?” Pepper asks, tilting her head.
“Maybe next summer.” Kuya Jepoy gives me a small smile. “I just need to be with my family for a bit. My lola was really worried when I called her in the province. She needs some help at the farm anyway, so it’s all for the best.”
“Still,” Ate Nadine insists, scowling. “You should have told me.”
“I’m sorry, Nadine.” Kuya Jepoy touches my sister’s hair. It’s not like what he does with mine though. He gently tucks a lock behind her ear. It’s pretty romantic, actually. Well, that is, until he follows it up with, “I was in jail.”
Pepper and I burst out laughing.
“You can kiss her so she’ll stop hating on you,” my friend snickers.
“Shut up, Pepper,” Ate Nadine growls.
My sister’s scowl fades away as Kuya Jepoy takes her hand. He stares at her as he brings it to his lips.
Pepper and I squeal.
“Oh, be quiet.” If Ate Nadine were as white as Pepper, she’d be blushing red by now.
Kuya Jepoy clears his throat. “Well, I’m going to miss you two.”
“If you don’t email us, your life is going to be very boring.” Pepper gives him a quick hug. “Keep in touch, Kuya Jepoy.”
“Of course.” Kuya Jepoy gives her a wink.
Pepper’s cheeks turn crimson. Ha! I knew it.
“Sab.” Kuya Jepoy takes off his bracelet. To my surprise, he hands it to me. “When we meet again, I hope I’ll have enough money to give you a proper gift. So think of this as your temporary birthday present.”
I examine the wooden bracelet. This is too much. I can’t accept it. “Your uncle gave this to you.”
“It’s pretty,” Pepper says from over my shoulder.
“I know, and it’s yours now.” Kuya Jepoy shows me the bead shaped like a butterfly. “The butterfly is a symbol of change. People can change, Sab. Like my uncle did. Like your dad did. They’ve done bad things, and they’ve suffered for it. But they’re still family.”
A lump forms in my throat, and my lower lip quivers.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it!” I throw my arms around Kuya Jepoy as I let my tears fall. “I’ll never forget it—I’ll never forget you.”
LOLA CORDIA’S RESORT IS IN Pililla, Rizal. My web search said it’s around 55.5 kilometers from where we live, and around two hours and thirty minutes to travel by car. Ate Nadine always said my internal GPS navigation is worse than those cheap knockoffs sold near her college. But even someone who’s “directionally challenged” like myself can figure out we’re far from Metro Manila.
We climb farther into the mountains of Antipolo, all the way to Manila East Road. It’s a long stretch of highway going through several small towns, connecting each province to the next. We’ll pass by a populated area every now and then. Most of the time, however, we see dense clusters of trees or vast, open fields.
I usually find these “in-between” parts of the trip enjoyable. Now, I can’t stop thinking about how the highway seems to be lacking guardrails in a lot of places. If Tito Ed’s not careful, he can drive off into a rice paddy, hit a grazing carabao, or fall into a ditch. None of these scenarios can bode well for somebody who’s under the threat of dying—namely, me.
We spent the next hour with alternating views—small homes, trees, or open fields. But as we cross the border to Dad’s town, we find ourselves on the side of a mountain. Tito Ed turns off the air conditioner and lowers the windows so we can savor the fresh air. Ate Nadine is fast asleep, but Pepper hands Lawin to me to relish the view without a duck pulling on her hair.
Wind turbines dot the slope near the peak, overlooking Laguna de Bay. The water sparkles under the morning sun, with fish pens forming geometric patterns on its surface.
Seeing the lake has always been my favorite part of our trips to Pililla. Actually, I love everything about going to Pililla—except for my butt hurting from sitting in a car so long.
Before long, we’re back to the plains. Rice paddies flank both sides of the road, stretching all the way to the mountain foothills. Coconut and wild banana trees dot the properties, with a nipa hut or two in between. These traditional houses of bamboo and dried grass stick out like sore thumbs in the fields.
We pass under a concrete archway welcoming us to the town of Pililla. Little by little, man-made structures replace the greenery. Tito Ed is driving under the speed limit, so it’s hard to miss the single-story, concrete houses on the sides of the road. Some are complete and painted, but many are not. They stand in their rustic, unpaved, pile-of-hollow-blocks state.
We’re almost there.
And that’s when the car overheats, and Tito Ed has to pull over on the side of the highway.
“Ginnette, love, did you bring your one-liter bottle of water?” he asks, gripping the steering wheel tight.
“No.” Even from the back of the car, I can picture Mom narrowing her eyes the way Ate Nadine does when she’s annoyed. “You said you have it covered—”
BOOM!
Mom and Tito Ed curse at the same time as the car lurches forward. Ate Nadine holds on to Pepper and me. I tighten my grip on Lawin, keeping him from flying off.
“Edwin!” Mom cries. “Why didn’t you watch where you were parking?”
Tito Ed goes out of the car, cursing some more as he examines the damage.
“Ladies, you need to get out of the car,” he tells us. “The radiator overheated, so I’m going to get water from that nearby house. The blown tire—”
“I’ll take care of it.” Ate Nadine gets out and heads for the car trunk, where Tito Ed keeps his tools and the spare tire.
Pepper groans. “But I need to pee!”
I frown at my friend. I had warned Pepper about drinking too much coconut juice, but she wouldn’t listen. Where is she going to pee now? We’ve already passed the gas station, and that’s, like, five rice fields away. She’s my best friend and everything, but no way can I walk that far so she can pee.
“I got this.” Mom gets out of the car, waving her shawl. “Come, Pepper. I’ll teach you how to pee on a tree. Stay with your sister, Sab.”
Pepper turns bright pink. I giggle. Well, it’s not my fault she wouldn’t stop drinking.
“Try not to pee on a duwende, Pepper!” I can’t resist calling as my friend follows Mom to a cluster of trees. I’m too far to see, but I know when she turned around, she’s sticking her tongue out at me.
Dad used to tell me about the duwendes—or dwarfs—living on trees. These creatures of myth can bring good or bad luck, depending if they like you or not. I’m pretty sure peeing on one would put you in the category of “do not like.”
“Pepper will be fine.” Ate Nadine rolls the spare tire to the side of the blown one. “Duwendes like to live in big trees like balete, mango, or bamboo. Not banana ones.”
I deposit Lawin into his traveling crate and follow Ate Nadine. “Do you think it’ll take us long here?”
“No,” she says. “Stay away from the highway. We’re not in a gated subdivision anymore. Cars won’t stop if they see you.”
I squat in front of Ate Nadine, leaning on the metal guardrail. She pushes the car jack beneath the car, pumping it to lift the vehicle. I feel bad watching her do all the work, but I really have no idea how to change a tire. “Ate, do you think this is a good idea? You know, seeing Dad again?”
Ate Nadine stops pumping the jack. She takes her time before answering. “Yes, I believe so. I didn’t at first. But Jepoy—” My sister tucks a hair behind her ear, just like what Kuya Jepoy did for her. “He’s right. You’re right. We need to give Dad a cha
nce, Sab.”
“I’m scared, Ate. I’m not sure I like him anymore, and I feel bad thinking that way.”
Ate Nadine opens her mouth to speak but decides against it. She drops the jack and gathers me in her arms instead. The comforting smell of strawberries and cream engulfs me.
I take a deep breath, letting the air out slowly.
“It’s hard for me too, Sab. It’s okay to feel that way.” My sister kisses my forehead. Lola Cordia used to do that whenever I was mad at Dad. It always made me feel better, and it still does. My heart still aches, but not as much as before. “You don’t have to forgive him now, but keep your heart open. I’ll try to, too.”
I spin the wooden beads on my new bracelet and see the butterfly—the symbol of change. Like Kuya Jepoy said, people change.
But will it be too late for me?
“I don’t want to die, Ate.” I bite my lower lip. “I can’t die yet. We haven’t seen Dad in over a year. What if he doesn’t want to see us anymore? Wendell says Dad missed us, but we haven’t really talked to Dad himself—”
“He wants to see us.” Ate Nadine says it with so much conviction, I feel like I need to believe her. “Dad has done everything he can to get better. For us, and for himself.”
I lean against her side, resting my head on her shoulder. A smile forms on my lips. “So you’re admitting that you’re wrong about Dad, then.”
“I didn’t—” My sister gasps. She wiggles her index finger. “Hey! Are you sassing me?”
“Nooooooo!”
I cover my sides, protecting them from my sister’s tickles.
But Ate Nadine is too fast. “You can’t be Sab. The real Sab doesn’t sass me. You’re an alien taking over her body. Get out, alien! Bring back my baby sister.”
We collapse on the grass in giggles. Ate Nadine doesn’t stop her tickle attack until she has her arms around my shoulders, pinning me against her. We both gasp for breath, and before long, our laughter dies down.
I feel like the weight of the world is lifted off me. Whatever negativity that’s been keeping us back is gone now. We’ll be at the resort in no time.
Well, after Ate Nadine manages to change the tire, that is.
I THINK I MIGHT HAVE spoken too soon.
As we near the resort, Ate Nadine is gazing through the window. Worry lines stretch across her forehead, like she’s anxiously awaiting feedback from her internship boss.
“Look, Ate!” I point at a group of little brown ducks foraging outside a restaurant. “It’s Lawin’s cousins.”
“Lawin is a Pekin duck, sweetie,” Mom says, chuckling. “Those are itik.”
“I know that.” I turn to Ate Nadine for support, waiting for her to argue how ducks are created equal regardless of breed. But she doesn’t. It’s like my sister doesn’t even hear us, cooped up in her own world where no one exists but herself.
Tito Ed turns left to an unmarked road narrow enough for a single car. I’ve always wondered what would happen if there was another car coming from the opposite direction. Who would give way? What if they chance upon the part of the road where there’s hardly enough space to pull over because of bamboo fences and banana trees?
As usual, we don’t encounter any other vehicle that will give us this very problem. A year may have passed, but the road leading to the Dulce family resort remains as peaceful as it was before.
There isn’t much to see except for trees, and maybe a house or two. Every now and then, we’ll see laundry spread out on the side of the road or rice grains forming golden carpets while drying under the sun.
On our left, grass and coconut trees become high walls made of concrete and decorative stones. Tito Ed slows the SUV and stops beside a sign that says LOLA CORDIA’S GARDEN RESORT. The security guards see Mom in the passenger seat. They open the white gates and happily invite us in.
“Oh, good. Christopher took my advice and installed security cameras,” Tito Ed says, nodding at the devices attached to the gate posts. “Human eyes can’t see everything.”
Mom lets out a snort similar to Ate Nadine’s. “My bet is on Wendell. I doubt Christopher remembered anything you’ve said.”
Pepper giggles, and I join in despite myself. Mom turns to face us, giving us a wink. Dad would forget to brush his teeth if Wendell didn’t remind him. That’s just who he is.
There’s a crunching sound as Tito Ed brings the car inside the resort. I can’t believe we’re here! The gravel driveway is exactly as I remember. Long and winding, it has trees lining its sides, the branches forming a natural roof above it. At the end of the flowery tunnel is the reception house—a small cottage with colorful windows and glass doors.
The lot beside the lobby is already full with guest-owned vehicles, but the parking aide leads us to a paved road on the other side of the cottage. He removes the chain with a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign and waves us through.
Tito Ed drives down the steep, tree-lined road. He maneuvers the turns carefully to avoid life-sized sculptures displayed in the oddest places. He parks the SUV at a carport beside the main house, where we find two men waiting at the front porch.
One is tall, with a buzz cut and skin as light as Pepper’s. The other man is shorter and has a ponytail and a goatee. He also has dark skin and a flat nose like me. Wendell and Dad.
Tito Ed kills the engine and joins Mom to greet them.
Lawin quacks and struggles in my arms, his claws scratching my legs. “Hey! Calm down.”
“You need to get out, Ate Nadine.” Pepper lifts her backpack. “We’re all stuck here until you do.”
“This isn’t the only door.” My sister sinks deeper in her seat. Honestly, I want to sink along with her. “There’s one beside you.”
“Can’t. There’s a gross puddle outside.”
With the windows closed and the aircon turned off, it’s starting to heat up like an oven in the car. I’m trembling, and my heart is beating faster than I can think, but I don’t want to stay in here. “Ate, if you don’t open the door, we’ll all collapse like that lady on the MRT.”
Luckily, I don’t have to wait long. Ate Nadine holds her breath and exhales aloud. She repeats it a few more times—like she’s doing breathing exercises—until finally, she opens the door.
By this time, Dad and Wendell have already reached the car. As soon as my sister steps out, Dad hugs her. “I’ve missed you,” he says.
“Dad, I—”
“Shh.” Dad gives Ate Nadine a kiss on the forehead. “Where’s my birthday girl?”
“Here.” I step out of the car and release Lawin from his cage. He runs straight for the grass and flowers beside the parking lot. “I have a duck.”
“Yes. And your hair—it’s so short!” Dad smiles, his arms wide open. Maybe Ate’s right. Maybe Dad’s changed. His hair is longer than since we last saw him a year ago at Lola Cordia’s funeral. His shirt has some streaks of paint, but it’s not the ratty T-shirt he’s fond of wearing. Dad’s cleaned up well, that’s for sure.
Pepper gives me a push. “Go. Your papa’s waiting.”
I step into Dad’s arms.
“You’re getting heavy,” Dad grunts as he lifts me off the ground. I can see the stubble on his chin and that lone pimple scar on his neck’s otherwise flawless skin. He smells the same as I remember, like chocolate and peppermint and acrylic paint. “My big girl, Sab.”
Wendell clears his throat. “Happy birthday, Sab.”
Up close, Wendell looks the same as he had since Lola Cordia’s funeral. Tall, fair-skinned, and sporting the same semi-bald haircut.
Dad puts me down and nods at his boyfriend.
Wendell and Ate Nadine are both staring at their feet. To my surprise, my sister offers her hand. Wendell ignores it and pulls her into a tight hug instead.
Dad joins them, and so do I.
From behind Ate Nadine, I see Mom dabbing her eyes with a napkin. Tito Ed seems like he’s trying not to cry. Beside him, Pepper gives me the thumbs-up sign.
&
nbsp; Dad and Ate Nadine have made peace at least. It’s what I’ve been hoping for. But something is still missing, words still left unsaid. For now though, this is enough for me.
AFTER SWIMMING, EVERYONE’S OUT DOING their own thing. Mom’s reading a book by the pool with Tito Ed, who’s on his second coffee as he flips through the morning’s paper. Wendell and Ate Nadine are playing badminton a few yards away. Near them, Dad repairs the flamingo sculptures scattered in the garden. Lawin’s napping in his crate, satisfied after gorging himself silly with sliced cucumbers and tomatoes.
The resort staff set up a table in the gazebo, and it’s now littered with my art stuff. I’m still out of oil pastels, so I’m stuck with regular crayons.
“I wonder what we’ll be having for your party,” Pepper says, stuffing a peeled mango into her mouth.
“Really?” I color the areas within the outlines of my sketch yellow. “You haven’t even finished lunch dessert yet.”
“I’m a growing girl.” Pepper takes another big bite of her mango. There’s a squishy sound near my ear as she chews and looks over my shoulder. “Those are pretty sea stars.”
“They’re supposed to be ylang-ylang flowers.” I rub the edges of the droopy petals to blend the colors, but nothing happens. Regular crayons don’t work well for me. I toss the crayon on the table. “This isn’t working.”
“Don’t. I’ll keep it.” Pepper takes the drawing before I can tear it up. “Mama loves your art, and so do I.”
“Your friend’s right. Those are beautiful flowers.”
I look up and find Dad staring at my art. A wave of sadness washes over me. Dad used to help me a lot with my art when he wasn’t cooped up in his studio. He even taught me how to use oil pastels, which became my favorite medium. Dad was always encouraging, even when my works were sometimes a flop.
Dad sits down beside me. He picks up a crayon and begins doing a quick sketch of a tree. An ylang-ylang tree. He pushes the drawing toward me. “Your turn. Color them yellow. Or green. Anything you like. You’re only limited by your imagination, baby girl.”
Soon Wendell and Tito Ed join us at the table. And I’m done with my art. It’s better than the first version I made, that’s for sure.
My Fate According to the Butterfly Page 12