Sleeping is already hard enough on most days, but it’s basically impossible after the whole pancit canton debacle with Ma. Not to mention Pa’s impending anniversary.
In the middle of the lady’s meditation video offering more vague instructions, I pull out the other phone hidden in a carved-out book tucked in my drawer. It’s a miracle that my sister hasn’t found Pa’s phone yet.
When my sister was cleaning out everything Pa owned in the condo, I found his phone in one of his bags.
I open his messages and type outMiss you, Superstar.
Moments later, my phone lights up with an alert that I got a message from Pa.
Ugh. My family wouldsojudge me if they knew about this. For the record, I’m fully aware that I’m using two phones to continue a conversation with myself—but… I like seeing Pa’s name on my phone. For some moments, I think I trick my brain into believing thathe’sthe one messaging.
I put back Pa’s phone and give this dumb meditation another shot.
Okay, Nika. Calming thoughts. If you knock out right now, that gives you six full hours of restful sleep. Find your center of gravity. Be aware of your ankles or whatever the meditation lady is going on about.
Although my attempts at peace and deep breathing get rudely interrupted when Achi intrudes into my room.
“My eyes, my eyes!” I cry out when Achi flips on the lights. “I wassleeping!”
She scoffs. “You seem awake.”
Achi dismisses my very valid sleep problems and rudely pulls the blanket off my body.
“I hate you,” I grumble, and wrap my arms around my pillow before Achi takes that too.
Even though my sister already got her own apartment when she started working, she sleeps over so much that it feels like we still share a bedroom. I remove my earphones and try rolling to the other side when she taps my head.
“Were you going to sleep with your hair wet?”
I groan. “I’m not going to go blind.”
In my mom’s eyes, one of the most dangerous things you could ever do is sleep without drying your hair. According to her belief system, sleeping with wet hair equals waking up blind. The threat used to terrify me as a kid until I fell asleep after a shower—and ended up with eyesight on both sides still intact.
I’m pretty sure my sister doesn’t buy into all of Ma’s beliefs either. She just can’t help switching to de facto parent mode with me—and that includes implementing our mother’s superstitions.
Achi doesn’t stop goading me until I groggily get up to blow-dry. By the time I get back, she’s already hogged most of the bed.
Before I can even settle under the covers, Achi asks, “Are you going to stop sneaking into my office now that Ma found out you’ve been skipping class?”
“How did you…”
Achi tilts her head at me—in Jackie-speak, this means,How do you not get that I’m incredibly smart?!
So I thump my head back on the pillow. “Can you please make the lecture short? Ma already told me how I’m a disappointment over dinner.”
She pauses and studies me. “You do know if you miss ten classes you wouldn’t be credited for the class.”
I nod.
“And that you need that chemistry course credit to graduate.”
I nod again.
“And just because I work at the school, that doesn’t mean I’m going to help you. Your actions have consequences, Nika.”
I’m about to nod when a realization hits me. “Why didn’t you tell Ma that I was skipping?”
“What?”
