Chapter Text
The wall had moved fourteen centimeters.
Aiah knew this because the approved drawings were open on one monitor, the contractor’s photographs were open on the other, and the project manager on the video call had just spent three uninterrupted minutes explaining why fourteen centimeters was practically nothing.
“Fourteen centimeters is not negligible,” Aiah said.
Across the conference table on her screen, three men stopped speaking at once.
The client’s representative adjusted his glasses. “What I mean is that, visually, the difference may not be significant.”
“The corridor is already at its minimum approved width.”
“We’re talking about fourteen centimeters.”
Aiah leaned closer to the laptop. “And now it’s fourteen centimeters too narrow.”
The contractor cleared his throat. “We had to accommodate the revised cabinetry.”
“Which I did not approve.”
“We sent the revision last Thursday.”
“You sent a photograph of the cabinets after they had already been installed.”
There was a pause. From somewhere beyond Aiah’s dining room, the lock clicked.
She glanced at the time in the corner of her screen. Five twenty-three. Maloi and Tala were early.
Or the call was running late, which was more likely. The dining table had disappeared beneath two monitors, a roll of tracing paper, a stack of printed plans, and the coffee Aiah had made shortly after lunch and forgotten to finish. Tala’s crayons had been gathered into a clear container at the far end, the colors arranged by shade because Aiah had needed something to do while waiting for the client to join.
The front door opened.
“Shoes off, Tala,” Maloi said.
“Wait lang po, Ninang.”
“Before or after you reach the living room?”
Tala stopped mid-step.
“Before.”
“Good answer.”
Aiah looked away from the screen long enough to see Tala shuffle into the house, her school bag hanging from one shoulder and a purple bracelet wrapped twice around her wrist. Maloi came behind her carrying a lunchbox, a water bottle, and the expression of someone who had already repeated herself several times on the way upstairs.
Tala spotted Aiah and brightened.
“Mommy.”
Aiah lifted one finger.
“One minute, baby.”
Tala nodded and walked over anyway.
Onscreen, the client’s representative had begun proposing a compromise that appeared to involve keeping the illegally moved wall and changing every surrounding element instead.
Aiah muted herself.
“You’re early,” Aiah said, lowering her voice. “Everything okay?”
“Walang traffic,” Maloi answered.
Aiah looked at Tala. “School was okay?”
Tala nodded.
“Sobrang daldal ng anak mo sa car pauwi,” Maloi added.
Tala touched Aiah’s sleeve. “Mommy, may bad news ako.”
Aiah’s attention shifted completely.
She pushed her chair back and looked Tala over. No scratches, no bruises, no sign that anything had happened. The yellow clip Aiah had put in her hair that morning was gone, but that happened often enough that she kept eleven identical replacements at home.
“What happened, baby? May masakit?”
Tala shook her head.
“Did someone upset you?”
Another head shake.
“Did you lose something?”
“No.”
Aiah frowned. “Then what’s the bad news?”
Tala took a breath, as though preparing to tell her something difficult.
“Hindi ka na favorite person ko.”
Aiah stared at her.
Behind Tala, Maloi made a small sound that could have been a cough.
“What?”
“You’re not my favorite person anymore.”
“I heard you.” Aiah glanced at Maloi, who was now examining the ceiling. “I’m asking what that means.”
Tala held up two fingers.
“Number two ka na.”
Aiah stared at the two raised fingers, then back at Tala.
“Who is number one?”
“Teacher Mikha.”
Aiah had no idea who Teacher Mikha was. Apparently, Tala did.
“Who is Teacher Mikha?”
“My new teacher.”
“What happened to Teacher Ana?”
“She had operation.”
“Surgery,” Maloi supplied, setting the lunchbox on the counter.
Aiah gave her a look, then turned back to Tala. “So Teacher Mikha is taking over the class for now?”
Tala nodded.
“When did she start?”
Tala thought about it. “Long time.”
“How long, anak?”
“Monday.”
It was Wednesday.
Aiah sat back. Teacher Mikha had needed less than three days to take a position Aiah had held for six years.
“And why is Teacher Mikha number one?”
Tala began counting on her fingers.
“She fixed my bracelet. She knows I don’t like banana. She lets us change the story endings. And she has a guitar.”
Aiah looked at the repaired section of the bracelet. One knot had been redone in blue thread.
“I know you don’t like bananas.”
“Yes.”
“I have known that for years.”
Tala nodded patiently. “But Teacher Mikha remembered after one time.”
Maloi turned away and pressed her lips together.
Aiah looked at her. “May gusto ka bang sabihin?”
“Wala,” Maloi said, still facing the counter.
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
“Baka matawa ako.”
The client was still speaking on the muted call, his mouth moving beside the disputed floor plan.
She should return to the meeting. Instead, she asked, “Did Teacher Mikha tell you to pick a favorite?”
“No. Ako lang.”
“And she knows she’s number one?”
Tala nodded. “I told her. She said maybe you will get sad.”
Aiah’s eyes narrowed. “Did she?”
“She said you can both be favorite.”
“That’s not how favorite works,” Aiah said before she could stop herself.
Maloi looked away, already smiling.
“Never mind,” Aiah said.
“Teacher Mikha said it’s okay to have lots.”
“Then why am I number two?”
Tala shrugged. “Because Teacher Mikha is number one.”
Aiah had walked directly into that one.
Three days into teaching Tala, and Teacher Mikha had apparently already anticipated Aiah’s reaction to being replaced.
Before Aiah could decide what to make of that, someone on the laptop said her name.
“Aiah?”
She unmuted herself.
“Yes. I’m here.”
The contractor leaned toward his camera. “Would you be amenable to reviewing a revised corridor treatment tomorrow?”
“No.”
He blinked. “No?”
“The corridor is narrower because you moved the wall. That is not an unrelated outcome.”
Beside her, Tala whispered to Maloi, “Teacher Mikha also says we should listen when other people are talking.”
Maloi nodded solemnly. “Teacher Mikha sounds wise.”
Aiah muted herself again.
“Tala.”
“Po?”
“Mommy is working.”
“I know.”
“Then please let me finish.”
“Okay.”
Tala started to walk away, then stopped.
“Can you pick me up tomorrow?”
Aiah looked at her calendar on the other screen.
Tomorrow afternoon held a site coordination meeting, a material review, and a client call that had already been moved once.
“Tomorrow?”
“So you can meet Teacher Mikha.”
Aiah looked back at Tala.
Tala was not plotting. She was not challenging her. She had already accepted that Aiah might say no. Aiah could see it in the way she shifted her bag higher onto her shoulder, preparing to go to the kitchen with Maloi.
“I have work,” Aiah said.
“Okay.” Tala turned. “I’ll tell her you’re busy.”
Something in Aiah tightened.
“Wait.”
Tala looked back.
“I’ll pick you up.”
Her whole face changed.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Tala ran the two steps between them and wrapped both arms around Aiah’s waist. Aiah steadied her with one hand, the other still resting beside the laptop.
“Then you can see why she’s my favorite.”
Aiah looked over Tala’s head at Maloi.
Maloi’s eyebrows rose.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Aiah said.
Maloi tilted her head. “Should I warn Teacher Mikha?”
Aiah gave her a look.
“Mommy,” Tala said into Aiah’s blouse, “you’re squeezing.”
Aiah loosened her hold immediately. “Sorry, baby.”
“It’s okay.”
She kissed the top of Tala’s head, where one side of her hair had already escaped its braid.
“Go change. Wash your hands before dinner.”
“Can I have juice?”
“Water first.”
“Teacher Mikha says juice is okay sometimes.”
Aiah closed her eyes.
“Come on,” Maloi said, guiding Tala toward the hallway. “Baka pati ako ma-interview tungkol kay Teacher Mikha.”
“I’m not interviewing anyone,” Aiah said.
“Not yet.”
Aiah unmuted herself for the third time.
The client’s representative had begun speaking again, cautiously now.
“We can revisit the corridor tomorrow.”
“We’ll revisit it tonight,” Aiah said. “You’ll send me the exact site measurements, the cabinet specifications, and photographs from both ends. Nothing else moves until I approve the correction.”
He nodded.
Aiah tried to focus as the discussion shifted to deadlines, but the name remained lodged beneath every other thought.
Teacher Mikha.
A guitar-playing substitute who fixed bracelets, remembered bananas, and had apparently told Tala Aiah might be sad about losing first place.
Aiah reached for her coffee and found it cold.
From the hallway, Tala called, “Mommy?”
Aiah muted herself yet again.
“What is it?”
“Teacher Mikha’s pretty too.”
Maloi laughed so loudly that someone on Aiah’s call asked whether everything was all right.
Aiah looked at the frozen floor plan on her screen.
Then toward the hallway.
“Everything is fine,” she said.
By the time Aiah ended the call, the contractor had agreed to send new measurements before seven, and Teacher Mikha had somehow become the more irritating problem.
She closed her laptop and found Tala already seated at the dining table, swinging her legs beneath the chair. Maloi was spooning rice onto her plate.
“You washed your hands?” Aiah asked.
Tala held them up.
“With soap?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
Maloi set the serving spoon down. “She washed them, Aiah.”
“I asked Tala.”
“And Tala has answered this question every day for six years.”
Tala looked between them. “Nag-soap po ako.”
Aiah kissed the top of her head as she passed. “Good.”
Dinner was chicken tinola, which Maloi had reheated while Aiah finished the meeting. The rice was still warm. Tala had already moved every piece of papaya to one side of her bowl.
Aiah sat across from her.
“How was school?”
“Good.”
“What did you do?”
“Things.”
Maloi sat beside Tala. “Good talk.”
Aiah gave her a look. Tala took a spoonful of soup. Aiah waited. Tala kept eating.
“What things?” Aiah asked.
“We had reading. And math. And music.”
“Teacher Mikha teaches music too?”
“No. Teacher Sheena does.”
“Then why does Teacher Mikha have a guitar?”
Tala shrugged. “Because she knows guitar.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“It kind of was,” Maloi said.
Aiah ignored her. “Did she use it during class?”
“Yes.”
“During which class?”
“Story time.”
“What story?”
“The dragon one.”
Aiah searched her memory. Tala had brought home at least four dragon books in the past month.
“What happened to the dragon?”
“He was bad.”
“And?”
“And then we changed it.”
“Changed what?”
“The ending.”
Aiah took a breath. “What was wrong with the original ending?”
“The knight killed him.”
“And you didn’t like that?”
Tala frowned. “The dragon was only hungry.”
Aiah paused. Maloi hid a smile behind her glass.
“So what happened in your ending?” Aiah asked.
“The knight gave him bread.”
“Bread.”
“And chicken.”
“Tinola?” Maloi asked.
“Fried chicken.”
“Good choice,” Maloi commented.
Aiah looked at Tala. “And Teacher Mikha let everyone change the story?”
“Not everyone. We voted.”
“What were the other choices?”
Tala began counting on her fingers. “The dragon goes to jail. The dragon says sorry. The dragon eats the knight.”
Aiah lowered her spoon.
“Who suggested the last one?”
“Paolo.”
“I’m going to remember that name.”
Tala nodded. “Teacher Mikha said maybe not.”
“Probably for the best,” Aiah said.
Tala nodded. “Then she played a song.”
“About the dragon?”
“No. About planets.”
Aiah stared at her. Maloi started laughing.
“What?” Aiah asked.
“Ang dami mong tanong.”
“I’m asking about her day.”
“Parang may exam mamaya.”
Aiah turned back to Tala. “Did you like the song?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember it?”
Tala nodded and immediately began singing.
The tune consisted mostly of the names of planets, two repeated lines about Saturn’s rings, and several words Tala did not know but sang confidently anyway.
Aiah listened until Tala stopped to eat.
“And Teacher Mikha taught you that today?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did she teach you today?”
Tala thought carefully.
“How to say sorry when you’re wrong.”
Aiah glanced up. “What happened?”
“Teacher Mikha wrote seven plus five is eleven.”
“It’s twelve.”
“I know.”
“Did you correct her?”
“Paolo did.”
“Paolo seems very active in this class.”
“He shouted.”
“So I gathered.”
Tala continued, “Teacher Mikha checked, then she said, ‘Ay, oo nga.’ Then she erased it.”
“And that became a lesson?”
“Paolo said teachers should know all the answers.”
“What did she say?”
“That teachers know lots of things, but not all the things.”
Aiah considered this.
“That is true.”
Tala looked surprised. “So you can be wrong too?”
“Yes.”
“Even about Teacher Mikha?”
Maloi made a choking sound into her glass.
Aiah looked at her daughter. “I haven’t said anything about Teacher Mikha.”
“You made a face.”
“What face?”
Tala tried to copy it by narrowing her eyes and pressing her lips together. Maloi laughed harder.
“I do not look like that,” Aiah said.
“You do,” Maloi managed.
Aiah picked up her spoon. Tala returned to her food, satisfied.
For several minutes, the only sounds were cutlery against bowls and the hum of the air conditioner. Aiah told herself she had learned enough.
Then she noticed the bracelet again.
“How did that break?”
Tala held up her wrist. “Nica pulled it by accident.”
“Did she apologize?”
“Yes.”
“And Teacher Mikha fixed it?”
“She had blue thread.”
“Why did she have thread?”
“For crafts.”
“What kind of crafts?”
Maloi set down her spoon. “Aiah.”
“What?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“I’m asking about her day.”
“You’re investigating the teacher.”
Aiah looked at Tala. “I’m interested in your day, baby.”
Tala nodded. “Because Teacher Mikha is there.”
“That is one part of it.”
“The favorite part,” Maloi said.
Aiah gave her a look.
Tala’s eyes brightened. “Ninang, do you want to know my list?”
Maloi leaned forward at once. “Absolutely.”
Aiah did not. She also did not stop them.
“Teacher Mikha is number one,” Tala said.
“We know,” Aiah said.
“Mommy is number two.”
“Yes, baby. I remember.”
“Ninang Maloi is number three.”
Maloi pressed a hand to her chest. “Above Ninang Stacey?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
“Why?” Aiah asked.
“Because Ninang Maloi buys me fries.”
“I buy you fries.”
“Minsan lang.”
Maloi pointed her spoon at Aiah. “Consistency is key.”
Aiah ignored that.
“Who is number four?” Maloi asked.
“Ninang Stacey.”
“Five?”
“Teacher Gwen.”
“Six?”
“Miss Liza.”
“The librarian?” Aiah asked.
Tala nodded.
“Seven?”
“Nica.”
“After she broke your bracelet?”
“She said sorry.”
Aiah could not argue with that.
“And number eight?” Maloi asked.
“The orange cat.”
Aiah looked up. “What orange cat?”
“Near the bakery.”
“The one that scratched your shoe?”
“He was only playing.” Tala took another bite. “And he says hi to me.”
“He meows at everyone.”
Maloi covered a smile with her glass.
Aiah looked at Tala. “How close is the cat to number two?”
Tala opened her mouth.
“Do not answer that.”
Tala closed it.
Maloi smiled into her bowl.
Aiah returned to her dinner, but Tala’s list remained irritatingly present in her mind.
She knew the rankings meant nothing. Last month Tala had declared mangoes her favorite fruit, then refused to eat them for nine straight days because one piece had been “too wet.” She had once replaced Maloi with a cartoon rabbit after a single episode.
Aiah understood this. She did not understand why Teacher Mikha bothered her more than the rabbit.
Perhaps because Tala did not talk about the rabbit like this. Perhaps because Teacher Mikha had already learned things about Tala that Aiah considered hers to know.
The banana preference. The bracelet. The way Tala became upset when a story felt unfair.
Aiah knew all of those things too. She had known them first. That should have been enough.
“Mommy?”
Aiah looked up. Tala was watching her.
“What is it, baby?”
“You’re really picking me up tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Even if you’re busy?”
Aiah set down her spoon. “I said I would.”
Tala smiled.
“Okay.”
Aiah watched her return to dinner.
Maloi was quieter when she spoke.
“You don’t have to move everything around just to prove something.”
“I’m not proving anything.”
“Okay.”
“I should meet the person teaching my daughter.”
“Also true.”
Aiah narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means two things can be true.”
Tala pointed her spoon at Maloi. “Like two favorites.”
Maloi nodded. “Very good, baby.”
Aiah looked between them.
“Can we please eat without discussing my ranking?”
Tala thought about it.
“Okay.”
Aiah took another spoonful of soup.
“Teacher Mikha is still number one, though.”
Aiah closed her eyes.
Maloi laughed.
By the time dinner ended, Aiah knew six new things about Teacher Mikha.
She played guitar, carried blue thread, admitted when she was wrong, preferred merciful endings for dragons, remembered bananas, and had somehow convinced Tala that favorites did not have to be exclusive while still accepting first place.
Aiah began clearing the table. Tomorrow, she would meet Teacher Mikha. Then Aiah could decide whether first place was remotely justified.