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The 2nd of November had always been a special day for Nora— it was All Souls Day. While others spent their time waiting for their birthdays, she spent her time waiting for this day. After all, it was the one day every year she had the chance to see him. She didn’t mind waiting twelve months. She thought of it as extra time to prepare: time to collect stories and write them into novellas that she kept in her heart, where she stored them until it was time to share them with her beloved.
Having had prepared for this day for over fifty years since the year the last of her siblings moved out, Nora knew exactly what to do. First, she set out to clean her house. Normally, she had Lisa to help her with the housework, but she had sent her home a few weeks ago. Nora had insisted that she no longer needed a helper and sent her off with some bonus pay to thank her for all the help she had been. The task of cleaning the entire house on her own would be daunting, with her body not being as strong as it once was, but the thought of her special guest invigorated her. It also helped that Lisa had thoroughly cleaned the house before departing as well, leaving only some polishing for Nora to do. She supposed it was Lisa’s way of thanking her.
She paid special attention to the dining room, making sure everything was in its rightful place. She rummaged through her drawers to find her nicest tablecloth— white and lacy, crocheted by one of her nieces to fit her dining table perfectly. She had been making sure to use it for this day ever since he said that he liked it eight years ago. She imagined him sitting across her on the table, the feast she would prepare laid out in front of him. He would look at it with joy and excitement, just as he did every year. Maybe he would hold her hand on the table as he listened to her talk, his touch cold yet firm.
She remembered the first time she touched those hands, the very first time they met. She must have been twenty-three then. It had been the first All Souls Day celebration without her lola. She had been crying, crouched down in front of the gates to her house to hide her tears, when he showed up. He had offered her his hand to help her up to her feet and comforted her. At the time, she didn’t think much of his cool skin.
“Think of it like this: the time you spend here is meant for you to collect stories to tell those who’d passed when you reunite with them in the afterlife,” he had told her.
She couldn’t help cracking a smile at the sentiment. “I quite like that idea.”
…
Normally, all Nora had to do before cooking was to clean, but today she had a little more to do. Instead of getting started on cooking, she began to sort out her belongings. There wasn’t much to sort out. She had already given away most of her belongings in the past few weeks. All that was left were some clothes, trinkets, and keepsakes. She neatly sorted them into different boxes. This book is to be donated, that necklace is to be given to her niece, and this pen… Nora decided to have it kept among her belongings. She couldn’t imagine giving it to anyone else when she had gotten it as a gift for him.
“Please use this to write to me, since you can only come around once a year,” she had said, looking down at her shoes to hide her flushed face. It had been their fourth meeting, sitting on the curb outside the gate to her house under the pale light provided by the moon.
“I’m sorry, Nora,” he had replied, his voice tinged with regret and melancholy, “I’m afraid I can’t bring it back with me.” It upset her back then, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay upset once she’d understood why.
Once all her belongings were sorted out to her satisfaction, she made her way back into the kitchen. It was still hours before their appointed meeting time, but she knew it would take some time to cook the food. She spent hours hovering over the stove, boiling oxtails and beef shanks for kare-kare and bulalo , frying pork knuckles for crispy pata , and tossing noodles and vegetables for pancit . They were all his favorites, as she had learned over the years. The first few times they had been able to meet inside the comfort of her house, with no one to disturb them, she prepared a number of special dishes. He always told her he enjoyed everything, but she would always take note of which dishes he favoured most and made them every year after.
By the time she finished filling up her serving bowls, it was nearly eight. She had an hour left and she still needed to set the table and clean herself up.
She rummaged through her drawers for her fanciest placemats, round ones weaved from fine abaca fibers. She placed them on the dining table, starting from the center and working outwards. Setting each dish she had prepared on the neatly placed placemats, she walked back and forth from the kitchen to the table. She made sure to leave some space at the table for two sets of her finest china, delicately painted porcelain passed down from her mother, one on each end of the table. As a finishing touch, she lit a few candles around the table, basking the room in warm orange light.
She smiled, admiring her work. She could feel her excitement start to bubble up, a tingling feeling running up from her toes all the way up to her head. In just under an hour, he would be sitting across from her, enjoying the lovely dinner she had prepared. With dinner all set, all that was left was for herself to get ready.
Nora took her time in the shower, despite having under an hour to prepare. She figured it wouldn’t take her too long to do her makeup and get dressed. By the end of it, she felt as if she was twenty years younger. Her skin felt soft, almost supple and her body was more relaxed than ever. She gently pat herself dry with one of her newly washed towels and slipped on a new set of undergarments— her best ones, made of the finest silk.
At her dresser, she began to do her makeup. It had been a while since she last felt the need to, so she was quite rusty. It took her longer than she expected to get a result that she was happy with. She felt like a teenager, doing her best to look her prettiest on her first date. She had never experienced that. At least, not like other girls her age did, but she didn’t mind.
Her makeup was the easy part, she realized. Putting on her dress by herself was the hard part. She stood in front of her mirror for a while, straining her joints as she reached for the zipper on her back. She wasn’t quite as flexible as she was when she was younger. Her fingers could only graze the top of the zipper, not enough to pull it up, but almost. If she could just reach a little bit further—
“Would you like some help?”
Nora jumped, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest. Behind her, he stood, dressed in a classic white barong and neatly pressed slacks, his hair combed back neatly. He looked just as he did when they'd first met, down to the gentle look in his pale eyes. He smiled as he gestured to her back.
Alarmed, Nora glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was 9:03. She had taken too long. Embarrassed, she hid her reddened face it in her hands, turning her back to the gentleman. He took this as confirmation, stepping closer and gently pulling the back of her dress closed. Once it was secure around her torso, his arms found their way around her, gently cradling her as she turned to peer up at him. It felt natural— as if she was always meant to be in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” she started, “I didn’t realize the time.”
“It’s alright,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “I’m quite happy to help you, Nora.”
She knew he meant it.
They stood in silence for a while, simply gazing into each other’s eyes. Nora had waited so long for this day and now that it was here, she didn’t know what to say. She had so much to say, but she didn’t know where to begin. She was just happy to see him and it made her heart melt to have him there— to finally feel his arms around her once more.
“Are you hungry?” she finally asked, smiling.
“Starving!” he flashed her a wide grin. “I’ve missed your cooking.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, short and bright. “You’re such a charmer,” she mused. “Let’s eat na .”
Unwrapping herself from his hold, she took his hand and led him to the dining room. He helped her settle down, offering her support as she lowered herself into her seat. Then, he settled into his own seat, opposite to her. She watched him take in the view in front of him, feeling her heart warm at how he looked at the dishes with wonder and excitement. He never failed to show his appreciation, no matter how many times they’ve eaten the same foods. He brought his gaze up to meet hers and she could see the absolute joy and love in his eyes. It still made her feel sheepish even after all these years.
“You never cease to amaze me, my sweet Nora.”
“I made all your favorites.”
“Just like always.”
It wasn’t long before the two began to dig in. Nora always made too much for the two of them, but that was alright. It was better to have more than less. She wanted to see him eat to his heart’s content. He was always so eager to have a taste of everything and she enjoyed seeing him enjoy himself. He was just like a child visiting a buffet for the first time. It made her heart swell with fondness.
As they ate, she began to unwind. She settled comfortably into her seat, telling him all the stories she’d written in the novella she prepared just for him. She talked about how some of her nieces and nephews have graduated and how some of them became doctors, others nurses. One of them even opened their own restaurant. She told him about her older sister passing away shortly after their last meeting and how her younger brother had moved to the United States with his family. She told him about how she started gardening and about the sampaguitas she’d been growing in her backyard. She told him about the friends she’d made in her community gardening club and how they sometimes went out together for lunch.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen them, though,” she said, smiling fondly as she looked outside towards her garden. “I’m often too tired to be outside for too long.”
She told him about how the house had changed— she’d gotten rid of the sofa in the living room because one of its legs broke, and gave one of her desks to her youngest nephew when he moved into his own apartment. She told him about how she wasn’t staying in the bedroom upstairs anymore. Her body was far too weak to manage climbing up and down every day. She’d moved downstairs shortly after their last meeting, to the room he found her in.
“It used to be the guest room,” she told him.
“I remember,” he replied.
He, on the other hand, didn’t have much to talk about. “My life isn’t as interesting as yours,” he said when she asked if anything eventful had happened to him in the past year. “I simply spend my days waiting for this day.” He took her hand, giving it a gentle kiss. They shared a look, his eyes full of affection and warmth— the kind that almost made him look human. It used to pain Nora, back when she was young and longed to see him everyday and go on dates like any other couple. Now, it was simply enough to be able to see him and talk to him like this. Soon, it wouldn’t even matter at all. Instead of laying her hand back down on the table, he stood up and guided her to her feet.
“May I share a dance with you?” he asked, bending down into a courteous bow, much like gentlemen do in those old Western films.
“Why, of course, kind sir.” She felt obliged to return the sentiment, bowing in a clumsy little curtsey as she smiled with childish joy that shone through her wrinkled face.
They didn’t have music playing— Nora could never figure out how those devices worked, so she never kept them around— but hardly deterred them. Instead, they began to sway to the sound of cicadas and the gentle rustling of leaves. With one hand on her waist and another keeping her hand in his grasp, he pulled her into an easy rhythm, slow and comfortable. Then, he began to sing.
“Binibini, alam mo ba kung pano nahulog sayo?”
His voice was deep and warm, immersing her in his presence making her feel as if they were the only two beings left on Earth. As they swayed in practiced synchrony, Nora found herself inching closer and closer until her head rested comfortably on his shoulder. She felt at peace like this— pressed against him and feeling his chest vibrate as he sang. She wished she could say he was warm, but he wasn’t. Instead, she had his firm yet gentle grip around her as proof that he was there and that he existed. She hadn’t been that happy in a while.
“Thank you,” she murmured quietly into his chest, feeling her eyelids growing heavy.
He didn’t respond, but she knew he’d heard her.
After such a long day, the comfortable pace of their swaying seemed to beckon her into sleep. She did her best to fight it— to blink the sleep away and let this moment last a little longer— but in the end, her weak body needed rest. She was lulled to sleep by the sound of his voice.
The next time she opened her eyes, she found herself in a soft bed. It wasn’t her bed, nor was it her own room, or any room in her house. But it felt familiar. It felt safe. As she got out of bed, she realized she was no longer wearing her terno from the night before. Instead, she was in her favourite duster— pale blue with dark blue patterned flowers— and the skin on her hands was no longer loose and wrinkly, but smooth and supple. They hadn’t looked that way in decades. Mindlessly, she wandered through the house until she saw his figure hovering over a stove.
He turned, smiling at her warmly. “Good morning, Nora."