What the hell?
They’re all brochures for master’s and PhD programs.
Master’s in School Counseling
Master’s in Clinical Psychology
PhD in Child Psychology
Each one details programs and schools miles and countries away. While I’m leafing through a University of Florida brochure, I take note of the highlighted text, the comments added in the margins. All of them are in my sister’s scratchy handwriting.
I’m still calculating the distance from Manila to some place called Gainesville, Florida, when I hear footsteps approaching outside. Midway through stashing the evidence, my sister walks in.
“What are you doing?”
The drawer is hanging open, brochures scattered on the floor, and I still have one in my hand. Really painting the picture for the worst crime ever committed.
Although, the best way of explaining away sketchy behavior is pointing out others’ sketchy behavior.
“You’re moving toFlorida?”
My sister stiffens. “You went through my drawer? Mylockeddrawer?!”
“When were you going to tell us? Once you landed in Florida?” The thought of Achi being that far away triggers this hot feeling at the back of my throat. I rack my brain for any reason to convince her not to go.
“Do you know that Disney World is in Florida?” I remind her. “Why would you go there when you’re scared of roller coasters?”
Achi’s mind is still on the stupid drawer. “Didn’t you seethe lock?” she yells. “A lock means boundaries, off-limits, no trespassing!”
“You left the keyinsidethe lock!”
“That doesn’t mean you have permission to open the drawer! If I left a gun next to me, does that mean you can shoot it?”
“No, Ach,” I deadpan at her ridiculous question. “I won’t be able to kill you if your body is all the way inFlorida.”
We both go quiet when we hear Ma’s voice from the kitchen. “Where did those two go?”
Achi switches on the room’s loud ceiling fan as if the whirring can retroactively mask our yelling. She signals for me to zip my mouth, our cue to hit pause on our argument.
Our ceasefire kicks in when we step outside the office and find Ma packing some of the puto paos. Although seeing Dr. Derrick right next to her doesn’t help that my blood’s still boiling about my sister’s secret move.
“The client from Marikina called that their bulk order didn’t get delivered to their party,” Ma tells Achi. “Can you be the one to take Nika home?”
“You’re going to Marikinanow? That’ll take forever during rush hour.”
Ma waves Achi off. “It’s okay. I like the drive. It clears my head.”
Achi and I share a look when Ma goes on about the million errands she was able to do today. During Pa’s death anniversary two years ago, Ma actually passed out from pulling multiple all-nighters at the bakery.
Then Dr. Derrick inserts himself yet again. “I can drop you off there too.”
“It’s okay, I’ll do it,” Achi volunteers. “I promised this client that I was going to take a meeting with them too.”
Buns by Beth is afamilybusiness, after all.
“Then who’s going to go with Nika?” Ma asks.
“Hi.” I cut in when everyone seems to forget I’m in the same room. “No one needs to go with Nika. It’s a miracle, but Nika figured out how to walk—all on her own!”
