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Hello Alfred,
We haven’t met in a while, so I thought I might as well give you an update as to how I’m doing. I’m safe and well-fed! In these sorts of times, I guess that’s all anyone can ask for. How are you? I don’t get a lot of news here. I hope you’re safe and well-fed too.
Isn’t this nostalgic? Well, not that sending letters was something we ever really did for each other, but I’m sure you must have done so at some point. It’s still crazy that even civilians can call each other from far away in this day and age. I really wish I had a telephone of my own. You know, I’ve become closer friends with the other Southeast Asian nations lately! They’re a fun bunch, even though we don’t get along all the time. We’ve at least promised not to get too tangled up in everyone else’s personal business, which isn’t exactly a perfect system, but it works for us. It’s nice to stumble our way through nationhood together. Makes me feel better, anyway. I hope you can resolve your fight with Linh soon. She’s really a sweet, hardworking girl. We’ve actually been thinking of including her in the association! Maybe someday. I mean, surely we’ll be more organized by then. Can you believe that the five of us have been together for almost a decade and we still haven’t held a single meeting? Dirga’s supposed to be in charge of that — I trust him to handle everything smoothly, given he’s so good at hosting conferences and all. I really wish that my bosses would let me go.
At least I’ve got company. I have a pet now! He’s a cute little tarsier (you remember what tarsiers are, right? Remind me to send you a picture) and I’ve named him Pien because he’s so adorable that it brings me to tears. He’s got amazing balance! Even though he must be used to trees and branches, he’s gotten so good at sitting on my shoulder. Very clingy animal, actually. I was worried that he wouldn’t have anything to eat, but luckily, he’s got a feast of options courtesy of my lovely and extensive bug collection. I bet you’re happy you don’t have to deal with my mosquitoes anymore. You always complained about them the most.
What I wouldn’t give to go back to Baguio during the summer heat. At first I thought, “Obviously, they’ll still let me go around my own country.” Apparently I’m not even allowed to go around Manila without express permission. Such a pain! I wanted to complain really loudly about it, maybe make a scene at the next ball they host in the palace, and then I remembered what Francis told me about how his own people cut his head off. Scary. My head is too pretty for that.
Speaking of, I’ve been feeling more lightheaded lately. Sometimes I get all woozy and the staff have to rush me into a chair or a bed before I pass out. The doctor says that I’ve probably got anemia, but that’s impossible, right? In any case, it looks like it’s not just typhoons that wear me out anymore. My bosses only tell me good things. I don’t feel good though. It’s almost like I’m in a war and I don’t know about it.
I should probably explain why I keep saying bosses, plural. The First Lady is very involved in my well-being. She likes to make sure I have everything I want in the palace, so all the latest fashion, entertainment, trends, and all that jazz is available at my fingertips. What I can’t experience myself, I have tabloids and magazines. They’ve practically replaced newspapers for me!
So I’m in this weird place where I can’t tell you about the state of my economy but I can tell you one thing: my musicians have gotten so GOOD! One of the maids let me borrow her new 8-track. The songs are so smooth and groovy, like boogie for the modern age. My clubs and dance halls must be booming. Oh, I miss dancing so much! That was what I really loved back then, in those years when Antonio allowed me to go home for the first time: going to all the fiestas, dressing up, and dancing with my people. Surely you agree that the polka is much more fun than the rigodon. I remember taking you to your first Fiesta de Santo Niño. You were so shocked and overwhelmed that you nearly threw up, it’s hilarious. I’m sure the alcohol also played a part.
I still have alcohol at least, thank God. My nightly routine has been a bottle of beer, listening to music, and staring at the stars. I make sure Pien has a tiny cup of grape juice too, of course — he’s a good drinking partner. Then sometimes, I write these letters to help keep my sanity intact.
Alejandro once told me that nationhood was lonely. He said that a century ago, and I’m only just now understanding what he meant.
Can we talk
I know you’ve been getting close with Arthur
Traitor, traitor, I should’ve known
It’s been thirty years since you last looked at me
I’m sorry
Guess I have to get used to it! Ah, it’s just so hard when I’m trying to quit smoking too.
I’m doing alright for myself, really. I’d tell you not to worry, but I’m sure you’ve got a lot of things on your mind. How does it feel to be the number one superpower? You don’t need to answer. The picture of you being your normal annoying, loudmouth self in the meetings and then going home to silently panic about everything is crystal clear to me. I’m not there to distract you anymore, so you better find something else to do (ha!) if you haven’t already. I hear your movies have gotten bigger and better, to my excitement and envy, and I’m very jealous of everyone that gets to see them. I miss theaters a lot.
I miss theaters with you. We used to have so much fun watching vaudeville and Broadway shows together. Hey, don’t you remember? Don’t you want to remember? You can’t avoid me forever.
When I get out of here, I want to see you all again. Wait for me. I swear I’ll curse you if you don’t.
Take care until then!
Love Sincerely,
Isabelo
The next day, the palace staff come by to take care of the damaged room.
It’s the worst they’ve seen yet. Tattered bedsheets, bloody vomit on the floor, broken bottles strewn everywhere. Dutifully, they pick up the pieces. Carefully, they wipe everything clean. Tenderly, they switch off the lights when they leave, a shared moroseness in their faces once they’ve tucked their nation in for another restless sleep. While whispers abound in the palace of a ghost that wails through the witching hours, these men and women know the truth: there is only who they serve, and the shadows he refuses to bring into the harsh, bright daylight.
There is a letter thrown in the trash. It is burned like all the others.
Later, Isabelo will wake, and the haunting will begin again.