“Anybody up for a game of badminton?” Tito Ed waves around the rackets. “We can play doubles.”
Ate Nadine shows up, sweaty from the game. She takes a glass of water and chugs it down. “Wendell’s a beast with the racket.”
“Me!” Pepper jumps off her seat. “Teach me how!”
“I’m done.” Ate Nadine winces, slouching on a chair. She takes a mango and peels it as messily as Pepper did.
“No, thank you.” I move my things away from my sister. Regular crayons may not be my best medium, but I don’t like getting my stuff icky with mango juice.
“I’ll just challenge the winner,” Wendell says, smiling. “I need to check on the party preparation. Christopher, are you coming?”
Dad shakes his head.
Pepper chugs down water before following Tito Ed to the field. Wendell makes his way to the resort kitchen.
Alone with my father and Ate Nadine, we sit in silence as we avoid one another’s gazes. It’s uncomfortable, and it’s weird. But it’s a start, being at the same table together.
Dad gets up from his seat. “Can you girls come with me for a bit? There’s something I’d like to show you.”
I throw a look at my sister. She nods, and I stand at the same time she does.
“It’s just something I’m working on,” Dad says, his expression unreadable. “I think you’ll like this.”
Dad brings us to the main house, where we pass through the living room full of clocks and statuettes of the Child Jesus in varying shapes and sizes. We enter the hallway, where we see a life-sized painting of Dad’s parents hanging on the wall. It shows my grandfather smiling through his white beard like a jolly Filipino Santa Claus. His big stomach hides behind an ornate chair, where Lola Cordia sits like a queen. Her expression reminds me of a jail warden having a bad day at the correctional facility.
The picture of Lola Cordia reminds me of a question I’ve been meaning to ask my father. Well, aside from the whole drug thing, that is. “Did Lola know about you and Wendell?”
Dad stops and stares at the artwork. He touches Lola Cordia’s painted hand as though he’s covering it with his own. “I think she did. I never said anything, but I wish I did when I had the chance.”
Lola Cordia’s death took the doctors by surprise. She suffered an incredibly high level of blood sugar. Like, a you-can-die-any-minute-now kind of level. Then she got well. A week later, the doctor deemed her okay. But on that same night, she passed in her sleep.
I wonder if Dad saw the Butterfly before Lola Cordia died.
“Lola always liked Wendell. She said he was good for you,” Ate Nadine says. I look twice to be certain she’s the one speaking. “And I agree.”
Dad’s brows shoot to his forehead. I don’t blame him.
I always had the impression that Lola Cordia might not have accepted Dad’s identity. She was very religious—she liked things to be a certain way. They must be what she expected them to be, or she got upset.
“What? It’s what Lola said.” Ate Nadine shrugs. “So. Is this what you’re going to show us, Dad?”
“Oh no. Not that.” Dad opens the door to the patio, and we follow him through a pergola of climbing plants with bright pink flowers. The tunnel is quite like the driveway, but cozier and just wide enough for people to walk through.
Unlike roses, bougainvillea blooms don’t have a strong scent. But the vines encasing the pathway are so closely knit we emerge to the pavilion smelling like foliage and wet from falling dewdrops.
Wind blows from the east, bringing along the familiar scent of ylang-ylang flowers. They look like slivers of dried mango strips hanging on the branches. A concrete sign saying BUTTERFLY GARDEN marks a path under the trees.
“You can see the butterflies later.” Dad puts an arm around me, steering me back to the main walkway. “Wendell and I didn’t know how to care for them as well as Mama Cordia did, so we just let them go. But they’re still around. I guess they love the resort flowers.”
Dad leads us farther to the edge of the property, where a small cottage stands hidden among the trees. Its stained glass windows are wide and colorful, letting sunlight in from every angle. He opens the door and we find ourselves inside his workshop.
Half-finished sculptures litter the floor, while completed ones are left on the table to dry. Dad takes a box from a cabinet, lifting an artwork from inside it.
I gasp and take a step back. My foot gets caught in a twisted rag on the floor, but Ate Nadine steadies me.
It’s a sculpture of a butterfly. Bigger than my hand, this clay insect bears a striking resemblance to the one that foretold my future. Dad painted it in black but added a few touches of silver on its wings.
“I call this The Butterfly’s Warning,” Dad says, pushing the artwork to the middle of the table. His eyes are on me as he speaks, and I feel like I’ve lost the ability to breathe. “Do you recall those stories I told you about the Butterfly?”
Ate Nadine and I both nod.
“Wendell always said it’s just a superstition. So did your mom,” Dad continues. “But it’s real.”
Of course it is. I’ve seen it twice this week.
I remember that day Wendell called to check up on us, just before I saw the Butterfly. “Did you recently see the Butterfly, Daddy?”
Dad studies me before answering. Ate Nadine is tapping a finger on the table, like she’s waiting for his answer too.
“No,” he finally says, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”
Ate Nadine clears her throat. Dad and I turn our attention to her at the same time.
“Where do you think this Butterfly comes from?” she asks in a brisk manner. Ate Nadine’s forehead is crunched up in concentration, and I can almost see the gears turning inside her head. It’s as if her “journalist radar” has lit up.
“Mama said I saw what I saw because of my creativity. I’m naturally inclined to open my mind to external things, such as intuition about what is yet to come. It is also a symbol of change, you know.” Dad clears his throat. He reaches for the sculpture and touches the clay butterfly’s right wing. “For the past week, I got this feeling about you two. Something’s not right. Wendell thought I’m just missing you girls. Thank goodness he’s right.”
It’s too soon to say. After all, it’s still morning. Besides, it was probably my bad thoughts about him that my dad was feeling.
But I keep my gloomy thoughts to myself. If I only have this day left with my family, I should make every minute count. To pretend the Butterfly doesn’t exist is easier, but it’s not the right thing to do.
I’m not blowing my chance to find the answers I seek. “Daddy.”
“Yes, baby girl?”
I take a deep breath. Here goes. “Did you do drugs because you had Ate Nadine and me?” If he says yes, it’ll break my heart. But I have to know. “Did you ever love us, Daddy?”
“Oh, baby girl.” Dad reaches out to hug me, but I step back. A lump forms in my throat.
“No. Tell me, Daddy. I need to know!”
“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. Mahal na mahal kita. I love you so, so much. It was never about you,” Dad says, his lower lip quivering. Tears well up in my eyes when I notice his are getting wet too. “I’m not going to justify what I did—it was very wrong. I’ll understand if you hate me for it, but please know I’m doing my best to stay clean. I don’t want to hurt you all again.”
“I forgive you,” Ate Nadine says in a quiet voice. “I’m trying to forgive you. It’s hard, but it’s getting there.”
Dad bites his lower lip as tears fall down his cheeks. My own tears follow suit.
It was a terrible, terrible thing he did. It tore apart our family. But he is my father.
“I love you, Daddy,” I say, throwing my arms around my father’s waist. I wish we had more time to go through the journey of healing together. This is something we should face as a family, but my time is about to run out. Maybe the angels in heaven will let me
watch him and everyone I love from the clouds.
Dad hugs me back, while Ate Nadine strokes my hair.
“I love you too. I love you both.” Dad pulls my sister in to join us. Ate Nadine doesn’t protest, hugging both Dad and me.
I look up at Ate Nadine. The worry lines on her face have disappeared. No matter what happens next, at least my dad and sister have begun to work things out.
Finally, I’m at peace.
TICK-TOCK.
I sit between Pepper and Ate Nadine on the sofa, with Lawin sleeping on my lap. It’s a tight fit, but it’s the best place to watch all the clocks in the living room.
Tick-tock.
Amidst the different statuettes of the Child Jesus, there’s a ceramic clock shaped like a birdhouse and another in the form of a plate. A metal timepiece is attached to the frame of Dad and Wendell’s photo, while the one beside it is on the stomach of a plastic cat. The digital clock on the mantel displays not only hours and minutes but seconds as well.
Tick-tock.
The clocks come in different forms, but they all say the same:
It’s one minute to five o’clock. One minute before I die.
Ate Nadine holds my hand tightly. Her skin is almost as cold as mine.
I wonder how I will die. Will I choke to death? Will I suddenly erupt in hives? Will the house collapse on my head?
Either way, I hope it’ll be a painless death. It’s the least Death can do for taking me from this world too soon.
I touch Lawin’s feathered head. Maybe God will let me visit him from time to time as a ghost. I just hope I don’t scare him too much.
My pulse quickens with every tick of the clock.
Five …
Four …
Three …
Two …
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
The clocks chime at the same time, my heart thumping with every sound. They ring five times, then stop.
And I’m still alive.
“It’s all over!” Pepper raises her arms in the air, whooping. Her sudden movement startles Lawin, who jumps off my lap and waddles around the living room in circles.
“Yes, it is.” I can’t believe it. I didn’t die.
“You’re okay.” Ate Nadine pulls me in a tight hug. “We’re all okay.”
“We are,” I mumble through her blouse. As usual, she smells like strawberries and cream. “Can’t breathe.”
“Sorry.” Ate Nadine releases me, smiling sheepishly. Her eyes are wet with tears—happy tears. “Your drama is so contagious. It’s your fault I’m crying.”
I smile through my own tears. “Well, you were scared too.”
“Of course I was. I’m your sister.”
No, I’m not going to cry again. But my eyes seem to know better. I tear up once more. “Even though it means you’re stuck with me longer?”
Ate Nadine pretends to think.
“Ate!”
“I’m kidding.” Ate Nadine laughs. She reaches behind Pepper and me, tickling us. Our squeals turn to giggles, and soon enough, we’re a tangled heap on the living room floor.
It’s nice to feel silly again. No prophetic butterflies, no deaths to worry about. I don’t have to wonder what my life would be like if I live past the age of eleven. Because now, I will. I’m not dying today.
WENDELL REALLY KNOWS HOW TO throw a party.
Even with such short notice, he managed to fill the buffet table with all the dishes I love. He had the resort staff close the pavilion to customers, installing bamboo dividers all around. They hung strings of fairy lights from the center of the ceiling, creating a magical canopy over the dining tables with matching ornate chairs. The last rays of the sun turn the white tablecloths red-orange, and guests have begun to arrive.
I recognize a few faces—Dad’s cousins, aunts, and uncles. A few have toddlers with them, while some have teens a bit younger than Ate Nadine. However, no niece or nephew seems to be around the same age as Pepper and me.
We don’t mind. We’re fine snacking on deep-fried corn kernels and garlic peanuts.
Well, that is until the kitchen staff brings out the lechon baboy. Pepper and I spring off our chairs like jack-in-the-boxes.
“It’s so beautiful.” Pepper sighs as we follow the roasted pig to the buffet table, where the servers ready it for chopping.
Yes, it is. My mouth waters at the thought of dipping the shiny, toasted cracklings in sweet liver sauce. I can’t wait to dig in.
“Easy there, tigers. You’ll have all the lechon you want later,” Wendell’s high-pitched voice chirps between Pepper and me. He leans down and puts an arm around my shoulders. “It’s almost time to blow out your candles, Sab.”
Pepper tears her eyes away from the roasted pig. “Doesn’t candle-blowing happen when everyone’s eaten? I want to eat!”
“Usually.” Wendell grins. “But I’d rather get the program out of the way so everyone can eat uninterrupted. Better find your sister, Sab. Unless you want to blow out your candles without her?”
I shake my head. After everything that’s happened, I’m not blowing out any candle without Nadine. “I know where she is.”
Even at night, the butterfly garden is as enchanting as it is in daylight. Ylang-ylang trees surround the entire vicinity, and bushes of various flowers decorate the pebble paths. A small fountain with yellow lights flows in the middle of the garden, the trickle of water providing calm to even the most turbulent soul. Every now and then, a sleeping butterfly will flap its wings.
Ate Nadine and I used to go here all the time whenever we visited Lola Cordia. Our grandmother loved those insects. It’s too bad Dad couldn’t take care of them.
But he’s right. The butterflies just couldn’t stay away.
I find Ate Nadine sitting on Lola Cordia’s favorite bench, the one beside a retro lamppost. She’s staring at the sky. “I asked for a new assignment at my internship today. I’m not doing news anymore.”
“What?” My jaw drops. “Why?”
“Come sit with me,” she says, patting the space on the bench beside her. As soon as I join her, she puts an arm around my shoulders. “I wasn’t sure if I did the right thing, so I came here. Lola Cordia said the butterflies gave her peace, and she was right.”
“But Dad said Lola’s the one who told him that black butterflies bring death.”
“Yeah.” Ate Nadine gestures at a cluster of sleeping butterflies by the fountain. “Those aren’t black, are they?”
Good point.
“But that website said—”
“—they’re souls of the dead,” Ate Nadine finishes for me, rolling her eyes. “I know, Sab. You left your browser window open on Mom’s computer.”
“I swear I saw the Butterfly, Ate.”
“I believe you,” she says, turning to smile at me. “I may not see it like you do, but it’s important to you. Besides, there are just some things we won’t be able to explain as simple as black and white. Real or not real.”
I notice Ate Nadine still hasn’t answered my question. “Why don’t you want to be in the news section anymore, Ate? Isn’t it your dream to be a journalist? Is it because of what happened in the alley?”
Ate Nadine winces. I regret my question instantly.
Of course my sister feels bad about what happened. No one died, but shots were fired and Kuya Jepoy got arrested for something he didn’t do. If the rumors are true, people were put in danger because of Ate Nadine’s report. And I just foolishly reminded her of it. “I’m sorry.”
My sister just continues to stare at the night sky. It takes a few agonizing minutes before she finally speaks. “It’s still my dream,” she says. “And I’m still a journalist. But I’m going to do a different thing now. More reflective, more investigative. Not just straight-out news. I feel it’s not enough to just tell what’s happening. I need to take a stand too.” Ate Nadine smiles. “I’m lucky my boss is good with that. And there’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“I asked for a short break. I’ll be very busy again when school starts in June, so I want to spend at least a week of summer with you.” Ate Nadine playfully tugs my hair. “Didn’t you say you wanted to go to that water park in Laguna?”
My eyes grow wide. “For real?”
“For real.”
I squeal and hug my sister in delight. “Oh, I love you!”
“I love you too, kiddo.” Ate Nadine laughs, but the happy sound dies down. She gently disentangles herself from my embrace, turning to face me. “This thing about dealing with Dad’s addiction … We’re only just beginning. I’ve talked to Mom, Tito Ed, Wendell, and even Dad. We figured it’s about time we go into counseling and work things out as a family, so we can start to heal. Are you okay with that?”
The mere thought of facing all those years of hurt scares me, but I trust Ate Nadine. “Okay.”
“I’m going to be with you every step of the way. We’re in this together. You have nothing to worry about—”
“I know, Ate.” I didn’t understand it before, but I do now. As a lone butterfly flutters up to join a cluster on top of the fountain, an idea occurs to me. “Do you think the black butterfly I saw …” I pause. “Do you think that was Lola Cordia? Like, maybe she wanted things to get better for us.”
Ate Nadine tilts her head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.”
I think back to the things I’ve learned this week. From the people I’ve met, the places I’ve been, to the stories I’ve uncovered about my family. Especially with my dad.
I got my heart broken, and it’s still mending. Yet, the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s not as terrible as I thought.
Those truths showed me that Dad’s human too—he made mistakes like any other person. His bad choices had grave consequences, but he’s trying his best to make up for it. I’ll never look at him the same way again, and that’s okay.
I still love Dad. Perhaps even more so now, knowing that he isn’t perfect. Same with Ate Nadine.
My Fate According to the Butterfly Page 13