Pangangaluluwa

Isagani

My friend Isagani does not fear the dead. Instead, he fears the ghosts of the living. She had long been dead to him, when she turned away his love and married another, but she was no longer content at staying dead: her ghost stayed behind to haunt him, and taunt him.

One day, he saw her inside the church, sitting in the front row. It was unmistakable, the way her white veil shifted colors in the light that passed through the stained glass windows of the church, the way she fanned herself, and the way she would sit down on the pew gently, taking care to smooth down her dress with one pale hand.

She was not with her husband, which awoke in him feelings that he forced himself not to think about, except for snatches of thoughts that escaped him when the priest's voice lulled him into carelessness: Pelaez, that bastard-perhaps she needs my sympathy now that she has realized that she could have been better off with me-but this is only justice, for them to be miserable! He wrestled with these thoughts until the mass ended, dismayed that she had followed her even here, where he decided to run to be finally free of her.

In the end, he decided to finally speak to her after the mass. But she was no longer there when he waited for her outside the church. She had vanished with the crowd, melted into them. The week after that, he went to church again, much to his uncle Padre Florentino's relief, but he could only catch a glimpse of her. Once, their eyes met, but she never stayed long enough for him to speak to her.

And the next few days after that, he kept catching glimpses of her from the edges of his vision: walking on the path ahead of him, peeking from the window of one of the houses in the barrio, marching with the procession for the Nuestro Señora del Rosario. He knew he saw her, but she always disappeared before he could even get a chance to call her name.

He wondered why she would haunt him now, when he had gone for nearly a year without thinking of her. He went to Manila and passed by her home-only it was Pelaez's house in his mind, for he could never think of her as being truly home with that man-and got into idle talk with one of the servants. She looked excited and went on and on about how the Señor and Señora of the house were such kind people, like two angels given human form. Or probably two saints reincarnated to serve another purpose for the Lord-San Diego and Santa Barbara perhaps, or maybe the Señora was even the Virgin Mother herself! When Isagani asked her if the Señor and Señora were having any problems with their marriage, or at least were arguing, the servant threw up her hands and said, Good heavens, no! The very idea! And she glared at him as if he was possessed by the devil himself.

This set his heart at ease, and he went home, smiling. He did not want to say it out loud, but the truth was, he still worried for her.

He expected the haunting to stop then, but many nights after, she returned, and finally spoke to him.

He could not sleep one summer evening and only kept tossing and turning in bed in his futile attempts to do so. He got up and opened the window. He looked down into the ocean below, as his uncle's house was situated near the rim of the Pacific. He watched the waves hit the shoreline with almost violent energy, as restless as he felt.

That was when he saw her: a stark white against the gloom.

The moon shone down at her, but the glow that surrounded her did not come from the moonlight: the light was from within her, warmth radiating outwards-towards him. He stumbled as he ran to the door. His heart skipped a beat at the thought that she would disappear again without even him getting the chance to speak to her.

To his relief was still there, and she stared up at him when he approached. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, making his heart ache even more for her.

"Paulita," he said, reaching for her hand, "What happened? I knew it, you would never have been happy with Pelaez, and he-"

She cut him off by pulling him towards her, burying her face in his chest. "Please, Isagani," she whispered-yes, it indeed was her, her voice unmistakable, so soft yet so unnervingly compelling-"I-I cannot-"

And she trailed off into silent sobbing. He held her as he led her into the house, into his room. He continued to hold her until he dared to kiss her-kissed her and held her and loved her (I wonder if you understand what I mean by that, you are maybe too young to know)-until they fell fast asleep in each other's arms. And his last thoughts were of her, wondering not of the strangeness of her being here with him, but why it took her so long to realize that she belonged here, with him. He fell asleep listening to her breathing.

The following day he woke up with a groan, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. He was alone. His clothes were still on the floor, right where he had left them, but there was no other indication of what had happened the night before. There was no trace of anything inside his room that she had ever been there, and not even her scent lingered in the air or on the sheets she had fallen asleep on.

Perhaps it was a dream. He asked his uncle if he heard anything during the night, but Padre Florentino only shook his head. However, he could not leave the matter entirely, and a month later, he went back again to Pelaez's estate and pulled the servant in again to speak to her.

The woman seemed even more excited, if it was possible. When pressed for information, she explained, Ay, aba ginoong Maria, a miracle has happened! She spoke of the grand celebration that was to be held in the household, since that very day, after a long year of waiting, the Señora was finally gifted with a child. The servant confided that it was the only thing lacking in their otherwise perfect marriage of the Señor and Señoras. Now, their happiness was complete, and probably because of all the prayers and indulgences she offered for them, the servant said with a proud smile.

Isagani returned to his uncle's home in a bit of a stupor. Instead of responding to his uncle's usual question of how his return to Manila had been, he only asked his uncle-abruptly, without any introduction or explanation-that he perform an exorcism on the house to drive away evil spirits.

Though very much bemused, Padre Florentino agreed, seeing his nephew very much in earnest. He even consented to look for an albularyo to do the task. When the ceremony was completed, Isagani's life regained much of its normalcy, although he told me that he does not get up from his bed anymore on sleepless nights. He ignores any sounds he hears and hides under the sheets instead.

He refuses to go to Manila ever again.