"Most nights I talk to her like I did when I read them their favorite tales. I tell her things I can never say to anyone. I write these entries pretending this book is her very soul, as if telling a tale that she will someday tell her children. But that will never happen, will it? So I just write. I just tell."

- From Corazon's Diary

Erik climbed out and I followed, never expecting him to open the door for me. He took my suitcase from the back of the truck and left it on the ground.

"Unbelievable bastard," I grumbled as I pulled my luggage and fell into steps behind him. A lady appeared at the door as we climbed the five steps of the porch. She was smiling and she was old.

"Hija, welcome to Bacolod. I'm sorry to meet you in this circumstance," she said, holding on to my arm.

"Manang June, meet Stephanie. Stephanie, this is Manang June. She had been your grandmother's lady companion ever since she married Lolo Ramon."

"She's like a big sister to me," Manang June said with tears in her eyes. "Why don't we come inside? I'll show you to your room. It had been your mother's before she left."

"We haven't had dinner yet, Manang," Erik announced as we entered the house.

I was not hearing him. I was too busy looking around the place I should have been at years ago. I should have grown up here during the summers. I should have been familiar with it. I should have ruined those damned lions outside with my childish plays. Heck, I should have been able to swim in that humongous fountain.

It was my mother's home before she married and left for Manila. I should have been here.

"Come, hija, I'll show you to your room." Manang June took my hand. "Leave that suitcase there. I'll take it to your room later. Erik, hijo, there's food in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Now that's what you call dinner," Erik said with a big smile as he found his way to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Manang June led me to the wooden staircase that concaved to the left.

"Thank you for this, Manang," I said as we climbed.

"Don't thank me. It's nothing."

When we reached the top of the stairs, I saw a big portrait of a serious-looking young man hanging on the wall.

"That's your grandfather."

I nodded. This house was where he grew up.

The second floor had a long hallway.

"We have seven rooms here. To the right are the master bedroom and two others that belonged to your mother, Ma'am Othella, and Christina. But those two mostly shared your mother's room. Christina didn't like spending the nights alone."

I frowned. I have not heard that name before. Who is Christina?

Before I could ask the question aloud, Manang June continued. "To the left are four other rooms, one was turned into a library, the other two for guests and the last one is mine. Come this way." She gently led me to the right corridor and stopped at the first door to the right. "This was your mother's. It has never been rearranged since she left. But I prepared it for you. Just don't open the closet. I haven't gotten to cleaning it yet." She opened the door and I was awed at what I saw. It was huge. A big four-poster bed was at the center. Two large windows let in the fresh night air and a wooden sliding door opened to the balcony. A big, mahogany closet stood at one corner and a dressing table was opposite to the bed. Old perfumes and hair brushes laid on it. I walked inside, my heels clicking against the polished wooden floor. The Spanish era at its best, I thought with awe.

"I hope you'll find it sufficient," Manang June said.

"Thank you," I uttered in a trance.

"I'll leave you for now. I'll bring your things up."

🌳🌳🌳

It was a relief that the bathroom was not as old as the house. If it were, I didn't know how I could have managed.

As I was checking my phone for text messages, a knock came to my door.

I turned away from the window where the best reception was, saying, "Coming," but the door swung open before I even reached it to reveal Erik with my mustard suitcase.

"Who told you you can just open the door?" I demanded.

"I thought you said come in."

"I said, coming."

He shrugged. He saw me look at my suitcase and he said, "I can't believe you would have allowed an old lady to carry this up the stairs for you," he said with a shake of his head.

Doing my best to stay in a fine mood, I smiled and pulled the suitcase from his hand. "Thank you. Please be assured that we ladies in this house appreciate a gentleman such as yourself."

He just looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

I closed the door at his face, gently like a woman with breeding should.

With my suitcase now at my possession, I dressed in a comfortable pair of pajamas.

I took out my laptop only to realize too late that there was no internet. I left my pocket Wi-Fi at home and now I regretted it. My phone's internet was not doing good either so I gave up after a few minutes. I had to wait to get the reports from my managers tomorrow, I guess.

Without anything to do, I decided to roam around the place. It was not as dark and gloomy as I had imagined ancestral homes to be. In fact, it was pleasant and bright inside. When I stepped out of my room, I was tempted to go to the farthest door at the end of the corridor. It was the master bedroom, I was sure of it. On my way, I found the other room, probably owned by Christina, whoever she might be. But it was locked. I shrugged and slowly, with bare feet, I made my way to the master bedroom and tried the door. Again, it was locked.

Disappointed, I went downstairs and heard heavy laughter. It was Erik's, I was sure of it.

"Can you imagine? She even expected me to open the door for her!"

Manang June's amused look turned pale when she saw me walk in the dining room. She immediately turned around and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Were you talking about me behind my back?"

Erik almost choked down his food. "Of course—" he gulped down a glass of water "—I was."

I rolled my eyes at him and followed Manang June inside. "Manang," I called. "Do you know where I can find the key to the door at the end of the corridor?"

"It's your grandparents' room. You want to see it?" She looked confused.

I nodded. "I'm curious."

"I'll get it for you."

"What about the room beside my mother's?"

"Oh, it has been locked for years. No one really enters that room. I'll look for the key tomorrow if you want."

"No, that's okay, Manang. I guess the master bedroom is enough."

"Wait here while I get the key."

"I'll come with you."

I followed her out of the kitchen, threw Erik a look, and walked up the staircase with Manang June.

"Don't mind Erik. He's just playing with you. He's a great kid."

"You're the second one to tell me that."

"It's true. His parents are wonderful people as well."

"Then what happened to him?" I couldn't help but ask.

The woman laughed, shaking her head. "Wait here while I get the key."

Manang June was back from her room in less than a minute. She was holding an old key which she handed to me.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"I'll be fine," I said and walked to the right corridor.

I had second thoughts as I stood outside my grandmother's room. I never knew her so I didn't know if she would be bothered if I entered the room. I had the key in my hand and Manang June was not hesitant to give it to me so I assumed it was okay. I worked with the key and opened the door. It was almost the same as mine, just bigger. There was a walker at the foot of the bed and an open book on one of the pillows. No one touched this room after she passed away.

I went inside and walked to the dresser. If you ever want to know anything about a woman, go to her dresser.

My eyes watered when I saw framed photographs of my mother on that dresser. She was just about sixteen when it was taken. My grandmother's photo together with my grandfather stood beside it. She looked radiant and beautiful in her younger days. Very feminine and definitely very Filipina. My mother must have inherited her features from my grandfather because she didn't look anything like my grandmother. Well, maybe except her pointed nose which I also got.

Slowly, I sat down on the stool. I watched my reflection on the mirror. Shoulder-length black hair, slit eyes, decent lips, pointed nose. I could say I was pretty, but not entirely beautiful as Erik said my grandmother claimed. I looked away, afraid of anything that might appear behind me in the mirror. Stupid, I know, but the room was creepy enough.

I looked down and opened a drawer. I saw more photographs. I didn't know how much time I spent just looking through those black-and-white photos of people whom I barely knew. I found one with three people on it. A woman and two men. The woman looked like my grandmother, just way younger. And she was fighting a laugh as she stared directly at the camera. The other man was standing beside her, arms around her. He was whispering something in my grandmother's ear, half of his face blocked by her hair. The other man stood beside the first one, on hand on his hip, looking up at the tree that stood beside them, his face shadowed by his hand over his eyes, shielding them against the sun as though he found the tree more interesting that the camera pointed at them. The one with his arm around my grandmother was probably my grandfather, I thought.

I flipped the photo over. Words were written on it.

Don Salvador, October 25, 1953.

I set the photo apart from the rest, placing it on top of the drawer.

I closed the first drawer with the other photos inside and opened another. That was when I found it.

There was nothing else inside but a tiny, red leather-bound book. It was just lying there with a string to keep it closed. I took it in my hand and I felt something weird. I knew what it was the moment I saw it and I desperately wanted to pull the string and leaf through every page.

I was holding in my hand the very life story of my grandmother, the woman I never knew.

I found her diary.