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Danilo slept on a park bench for two hours after talking to Dulnuan. He woke up at 5 a.m. to take the first available jeepney to head back home.

He'd had a good day yesterday, drinking with his buddy and fucking a girl he'd just met. But the best part of it all was seeing Dulnuan again. His fear of the spirit dissipated with the time he spent with her.

As he rode alone on the jeepney, he looked out the exit, feeling the chilly morning wind blast on his cheeks. Dulnuan lingered in his thoughts as he stared blankly at the pavement over which the vehicle ran.

He admitted to himself he liked her--the way she spoke formally, the way she smiled, and the way her dark hair blew away with the wind. All men during her time might have fallen head over heels infatuated with her, including the chieftain of her tribe. And he could likely turn into one of them.

"End of the line," the jeepney driver said.

Danilo jumped out of his thoughts and realized the vehicle had already stopped. He got off on the side of the road and followed a narrow alley to his home, checking his watch--5:09 a.m. His mother would be furious again.

When he reached the front door, he turned the knob and found it unlocked. Slowly, he peered inside. No one appeared to be in the living room, but whispers came from the kitchen.

He entered with stealth, staying on his toes, not making any noise. All he needed to do was get to his room, and he'd be safe. But before he made it, his mother came out from the kitchen, rushing to hit his ass with a broomstick.

"Where have you been!"

"What the fuck!" Danilo lowered his hand to protect his bum, catching the swing. "Shit!" he cursed in pain.

"Ma, that's enough." Danilo's brother, Marko, held their mother by her shoulders, struggling to take the broom away. Danilo didn't expect him to be home.

"Let go of me," she demanded. "You've been out drinking again."

"Danilo, just leave," Marko said, looping his arms around their mother's waist. "Go!"

"And where am I supposed to go?" Danilo asked. He hadn't had much sleep. He was hungry. And in a few hours, he'd be off to work. He could at least take a bath if his mother allowed it.

"I don't know. Anywhere," his brother replied as he tried to calm their mother down. "Go wherever you go when you're out all night drinking and doing whatever the fuck it is you do."

"But--" Danilo protested. "I just got home."

"And now you're leaving. Just go, Danilo. I'll text you."

"Fine!" He flared his nostrils at his struggling mother, who still had her broom raised and ready to swing. Walking past them, he glared at his brother and slammed the door shut as he left. "Fuck my life!"

He regretted coming home. He should've just stayed at the park and waited a couple more hours for his boss to arrive. Soon, the boat stalls would open, and he'd call on tourists to ride them.

Taking another jeepney back to town, he contemplated his life and blamed the circumstances of his birth. If only he were born rich, he wouldn't be ass-broke, starving, and stinking like the gutter. He wouldn't have to endure his mother's nagging about not getting into college or being successful like his siblings. He wouldn't have had a father who needed to sell merchandise at night and get murdered by a robber.

If only he had money to get away, he would leave everything behind and never contact his damned family ever again. He unfathomably wished this with all his heart.

He got off the jeepney at Harrison Road and walked back to Burnham Park. He headed straight for the public bathroom, located under the Melvin Jones Grandstand of the football field on the park's north side. Glad for the early morning, he had the bathroom to himself to wash up and gargle off his overnight alcohol breath.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." He continued to curse at himself, at his family, and at everything in the world. "Why can't I catch a break?" Dunking his head under the running faucet helped to cool his anger only temporarily.

When he finished, he headed to the boat stall he was manning. The park started to come alive with young joggers on the pathways, old folks practicing Tai Chi under the trees, and lovers sitting on benches enjoying the morning chill against the heat of the rising sun.

The neighboring stall's custodian--a short man with a beer belly--was already there. "Hey, Danilo!" he called, grinning. "It's a miracle! You're early today."

Danilo wasn't in the mood for his jokes. On good days, he might play along, but not today--not after his mother hit him like a stubborn child and his brother kicked him out of the house. "Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand to the man. "Whatever, Ramon."

Ramon's grin dropped. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Danilo walked up to the stall to wait for his boss. He didn't know Ramon enough to tell him what was wrong with his life. Sure, they talked daily while at work, but only casually, mainly about the customers. They gossiped about how rude some tourists can be and whispered about the pretty girls. But that was it, casual and nothing personal.

"You want a smoke?" Ramon asked, offering a cigarette stick.

"Yeah. I could use one." Danilo took it, supporting the stick between two fingers and placing it in his mouth. He obliged when Ramon extended a lit lighter, sucking in as the tip caught onto the flame. Heat rushed through his throat and into his lungs.

"Better?" Ramon asked, tucking his lighter into his pocket.

Danilo nodded. "Thanks. I had a rough morning," he finally shared. Taking a deep breath of smoke allowed him to relax for a moment.

"Eh." Ramon shrugged. "We all get those."

Danilo sighed. He doubted anyone get his mornings, believing his life was the worst--a punishment from a nonexisting higher being. Yet, there was a brighter side, almost as if he was destined by a supernatural power to meet Duluan. "You ever seen a ghost? Or a spirit?"

Ramon laughed. "What? You've seen a ghost this morning?"

"You can say that." Danilo set his lips. Serious.

"Well, shit. No, I haven't. What's it like to see a ghost?" Ramon took out another cigarette stick and placed it in his mouth but didn't light it.

Danili shrugged. He knew Ramon didn't believe him. The man probably thought Danilo was just kidding. But Dulnuan was as real as the park, and she'd lived in a time before the man-made lake in front of them was built. "Did you know there was a time this lake wasn't here before?"

Ramon tilted his head and stared out at the water. "I guess. But I never really thought about it."

"There used to be a tribe here." Danilo exhaled some smoke, slowly blowing it out and watching as the fume escaped his lips.

"I don't doubt that," Ramon said. "My grandmother told me stories about our heritage."

"Wait. You're an Igorot?" Danilo asked, raising a brow at the man beside him.

Ramon chuckled. "You didn't know? I'm Ibaloi on my mother's side."

Danilo nodded. That was a fact he would never have known if not for Dulnuan. He had never been curious about the Igorots before. Both his parents came from the lowlands and only migrated to Baguio City.

"My grandmother kept telling me things were changing so fast in this city. Nature couldn't keep up. Too many tourists come to loiter and damage our lands. But what can we do, eh? It's the only way we can make money." Ramon removed the cigarette stick from his mouth and tucked it into his ear flap.

"Yeah, no other way to make money," Danilo whispered, but he didn't seem to agree, remembering the chest of gold Dulnuan told him about. What if he could get that gold? He'd be rich. Then, he wouldn't have to live his dejected life. He wouldn't have to see his mother's angry face again--no more comparisons with his brothers and sister.

A smile played on his lips as he thought about how much the gold could be worth. What could he buy with it? His freedom, for sure. A mansion on a hill and a car that would get all girls' panties wet for him.

"What are you smiling about?" Ramon asked.

Danilo shook his head, but he allowed the smile to linger. "Nothing. Thanks for the smoke." He sucked in the last of the tobacco rod and flicked the filter into a trash can.

The day went by. The boat stalls were slow during the weekdays, so Danilo had moments to relax and even nap while standing. His boss would catch him and tell him he'd better not be sleeping on the job, but he'd do it anyway. After two nights with only two or three hours of sleep, he couldn't help nodding off.

His head would sometimes throb. He guessed it might be the hangover. Who wouldn't have a headache after drinking all day? Or it could be the sleepless nights.

He spent the day in routine, trying to smile as he took payment from customers. When his boss wasn't looking, he'd knick a twenty or fifty peso bill just to fill his pocket. He'd been thieving from his boss since he started working for him about a year ago, and he never got caught. It was only fair. This job as a custodian paid less than the minimum wage, so what could he do?

At the end of the day, his boss handed him one hundred pesos for his tip. But he'd already gotten more than that, so he accepted it with a grateful smile.

Danilo's brother hadn't texted him yet like he said he would. But he didn't want to go home anyway. He didn't want to face his mother's wrath. He'd let her cool off for now.

And he was also looking forward to seeing Dulnuan again. So, he got some food at a nearby carinderia and came back to the lake late at night with a bottle of beer as he waited for 3 a.m.

He even set an alarm on his phone so he could snooze off on a bench. And when his phone rang, he woke up to a spirit standing over him, the happiest smile spread over her face.

"Danilo." She said his name so sweetly he could taste it.

"Dulnuan."

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☠ Glossary:

Ibaloi: The Ibaloi are one of the indigenous ethnic groups of the Igorot people. Ibaloi means 'people who live in houses'.

☠ Fun Fact:

The headhunting practice of the Igorots continued until the late 1970s. They take the heads of their enemies during inter-tribal wars, usually using a battle axe. Each trophy head taken by a warrior entitles him to a Chaklag tattoo, a design going upward from the nipples to the shoulders and upper arms.

An Igorot man with his tribal tattoos.

https://www.igorotage.com/blog/batok-igorot-tattoos