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“Is that why you want to be a nurse? So you can take care of your mom?”

Her eyes, green with a kaleidoscope of gold, lift to mine. Her face softens, revealing every fissure of vulnerability. “That’s right. I want to do more than look after her and cook.”

Initially, I thought Eliza was born with a grouchy face. But maybe she’s frustrated because she can’t help more even though she wants to.

“I’m sure she appreciates everything you’re doing now,” I say, meaning it. “And I’m sure you’ll make a great nurse, too.”

Eliza smiles again. “Thanks.” She drains the rest of her water and holds it up. “And thanks for this, too.”

I never would’ve thought we’d share a moment like this. Funny how so much can happen when you speak up.

As we head out, I say, “Grace must really trust you if she assigns you so much work.”

“Oh, I just asked,” Eliza says, like it’s as easy as handing out water cups.

“Really?”

“Yup. I figured if I want to be a nurse, I need to do as many tasks as I can.”

“How exactly did you request more from Grace?”

“I just told her what I told you, then she assigned me more jobs.”

It sounds so easy when Eliza says it. But for people like me, who are so afraid of hearing “no” they can’t ask at all, doing it is much harder.

“Just remember that she’s as much of a person as you are,” Eliza adds. “She’s an authoritative figure, true. But you can still ask her questions.”

Okay, questions sound less intimidating.

I just need to try.

****

Grace hates me, and I must accept that.

Before I left, I asked her if I could take up more jobs.

“You already have one,” she said without facing me. Her blonde bun looked like a corkscrew, jiggling as she walked down the hall.

“I want to try more,” I said. “I know WCH well enough now.”

“Does that matter?”

“Yes.” I knew the question was rhetorical, but I felt this need to answer. Grace whipped her head around and threw me a glare. I looked down as she turned back to the front. “Eliza has a lot of tasks.”

“Eliza is responsible.”

You gave me two days to prove myself. I zipped my mouth shut. I was tempted to tell her I helped Eliza, but my gut told me Grace would be pissed since I wasn’t assigned that job.

“If you give me more jobs, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

But she turned left and marched through the parking lot as soon as she exited.

“Puta,” I muttered when Grace was far enough away. I don’t usually cuss, whether it be in Tagalog or English, but I had to let it out while she was already out of hearing distance. She was, after all, being a bitch.

In my car, I plug in my Air Pods and cool myself down as “00:00 (Zero O’Clock)” by BTS streams through my ears. There’s ninety minutes left to take my photo before my mom comes home. I have to put my camera back into the safe, but not without finishing my love photograph.

I gritted my teeth as soon as Jaya revealed “love” as this week’s theme. Unlike the previous themes, I couldn’t form a clear vision nor an abstract idea. As someone who’s been single since birth, I don’t have the right to capture traditional romance, the kind where you kiss and hold hands. That’s too predictable, anyway. I love photography, but while my camera could be an easy main subject, that may mean I’d have to be in the photo myself.