Tarlac unreal-ized 1

I woke up before dawn today to see outside my window a sky with pink and rose hues and- without the aid of my glasses- bokeh sparkling on the branches of a mango tree. And then I saw her again: the young woman wearing a green dress sat on the chair beside my bed. She said "hello" and waved a pale hand: in the half-light, her fingers looked like butterfly wings.

"It's a big day tomorrow, isn't it?" she asked. "Who are you voting for?"

And then she asked, "Do you remember going to school with my husband's son?"

I said I didn't- I never studied in the Ateneo (well, except recently for some short courses).

"No, no, think again- you were classmates."

I closed my eyes to try to remember, but when I opened them, I was alone in the room and a warmer, golden sunlight was streaming through the window. I looked at the alarm clock: it was already past 7 AM.

I first met her last year on my favorite stretch of highway in Tarlac. It looked new, and not many cars were passing through it yet. It was around noon- a sweltering first day of August- and I was going back to Manila from Cabanatuan.

Right after I passed through the toll gate, I had a flat tire, which two highway patrolmen helped me replace with my spare. When we were done, one of them asked if I could give a young woman a ride back to Manila. He pointed to the back of their white pick-up and I saw her looking out a back seat window. She gave us a shy smile- I thought she looked vaguely familiar, someone I may have already met.

"Sure," I said distractedly.

I was in a hurry to get home and I forgot to ask for her name or tell her mine. I had the car radio on, and several times we heard "Salamat Tita Cory" radio ads. I told my companion I thought it was a nice gesture: letting someone know she's appreciated, to give her the strength to overcome her illness. The young woman remained quiet and just looked out the window at the fields outside- she seemed lost in her own thoughts.

We reached the gas station where I usually buy halo-halo. I asked if it was alright if we just rested for 15 minutes.

Before stepping out of the car, she asked about the gadget I was charging in the compartment below the radio.

"It's an iPhone," I said.

"Can it check the Internet?" she asked. "Could you please look for the name of someone I know?"

I typed the name she gave me in the phone's Safari browser and read a message that stunned me: "My lola's in a better place now. Thank you Philippines..."

I checked my friends' status updates on Facebook. That was when I understood what the radio ads were about- when everything changed.

I went to the washroom and splashed cold water on my face, then quickly returned to the car and waited for the woman to return. When after 30 minutes she didn't come back, I tried looking for her in the shops. But like a fey spirit of earth and air- or a figment of one's imagination- she was gone. Until this morning, I did not see her again, though in the next few months I would hear her voice in my dreams.