CHAPTER 7: Not What You Think
1701 Words
I stared at Dave's message for almost a full minute.
«Dave: And I think you should know why I gave you that job.»
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
I typed.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted it.
Finally:
«Me: Why?»
Seen.
No reply.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Fifteen.
I threw my phone onto the bed.
“Bwisit.”
Of course.
Of all the things that could happen tonight, this had to be one of them.
I picked up the phone again.
«Me: Dave?»
Nothing.
«Me: If you're going to say something, say it.»
Still nothing.
“Ang yabang.”
I put my phone down.
Then it vibrated.
I grabbed it immediately.
«Dave: Sorry.
Dave: Hindi ko alam kung paano sasabihin.»
I frowned.
«Me: Just say it.»
Three dots.
Then—
«Dave: My family owns the grocery.»
I blinked.
That was it?
I stared at the message.
«Me: Okay.»
His reply came quickly.
«Dave: That's all?»
«Me: What do you want me to say?»
«Dave: I don't know.»
I sighed.
«Me: So you recommended me?»
There was a long pause.
«Dave: No.»
I frowned.
«Me: Then?»
«Dave: I told my aunt you're hardworking.»
I stared at the screen.
«Me: That's recommending me.»
«Dave: Technically.»
I rolled my eyes.
Of course.
Even through text, he still had to say technically.
«Me: I don't want special treatment.»
«Dave: I know.»
«Me: Then why did you do it?»
This time, the reply took longer.
«Dave: Because you needed a chance.»
I didn't answer.
He sent another message.
«Dave: Not money.
Dave: Not charity.
Dave: Just a chance.»
I read it again.
And again.
Then I typed:
«Me: I can handle it myself.»
His reply came almost immediately.
«Dave: I know.»
I stared at those two words.
Again.
That was his answer every time.
I know.
Not you can't.
Not let me fix it.
Just—
I know.
I locked my phone.
---
The next morning, I arrived at school early.
Earlier than usual.
I didn't want to see him.
I wanted to think.
I wanted to figure out how I was going to pay three hundred thousand pesos in thirty days.
I wanted to figure out how I was going to balance school and work.
And most importantly, I wanted to figure out how to stop accepting help from people.
Unfortunately—
“Good morning.”
I stopped.
Dave was standing behind me.
He looked tired.
“Morning.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
I looked at him.
“Why do you always assume I'm lying?”
“Because you look like you fought your pillow all night.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“About yesterday…”
“I know.”
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you look mad?”
“That's just my face.”
He laughed.
“Fair.”
We walked together.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said—
“You can quit if you want.”
I looked at him.
“The job.”
“I won't.”
“I know.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because I don't want you to think you owe me.”
I stopped walking.
He stopped too.
“I don't.”
“Good.”
“Dave.”
“Hmm?”
“If your aunt hires me because you asked her to, that's still a favor.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“And I don't like favors.”
“I know.”
“Then stop doing things for me.”
He looked at me for a moment.
“Okay.”
That answer surprised me.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged.
“I'll stop.”
“Good.”
He smiled faintly.
“But I can't promise I'll stop being your friend.”
I frowned.
“We're friends?”
“I thought we were.”
“Since when?”
“Since you gave me your eraser.”
“That doesn't make us friends.”
“Okay.”
He nodded seriously.
“Best acquaintances.”
I laughed.
“Whatever.”
And we continued walking.
Neither of us noticed the person standing at the end of the hallway.
Watching us.
---
After class, I went to the grocery store.
My first day.
I was nervous.
But I couldn't afford to be.
I needed the job.
The store was bigger than I expected.
There were several employees moving around.
A few customers.
A small stockroom at the back.
And behind the counter—
a familiar face.
“Good afternoon, Miss Althea.”
I froze.
“Dave's aunt?”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
“Ma'am.”
“You can call me Tita Marissa.”
I smiled awkwardly.
“Okay po.”
She handed me a uniform.
“Change in the back.”
“Opo.”
I took it.
Then I heard a familiar voice behind me.
“Good luck.”
I turned.
Dave.
“What are you doing here?”
“Working.”
“You work here?”
“Sometimes.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
I stared at him.
“That's not how conversations work.”
He smiled.
“Welcome to the family business.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I'm here to work.”
“I know.”
“Then don't bother me.”
“Yes, boss.”
---
The first three hours were exhausting.
Customers.
Receipts.
Inventory.
Stocking shelves.
Counting change.
At one point, a customer complained because I gave the wrong amount of change.
I checked the receipt.
I was right.
But instead of arguing, I calmly explained.
The customer apologized.
Tita Marissa watched from behind the counter.
She smiled.
“You're good.”
“Thank you po.”
“You learn quickly.”
“Thank you.”
“Dave was right.”
I stopped.
“About what?”
“That you're hardworking.”
I looked across the store.
Dave was arranging bottled water.
He looked at me.
I quickly looked away.
“Ma'am…”
“Yes?”
“Please don't give me special treatment.”
She laughed.
“I don't.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She pointed toward the register.
“If you make a mistake, I will tell you.”
“Okay.”
“And if you do well, I will tell you too.”
I nodded.
Fair enough.
---
At exactly nine, my shift ended.
I was exhausted.
My feet hurt.
My back hurt.
My brain was dead.
But when I looked at the money I would earn for the day, I smiled.
Small amount.
But mine.
I stepped outside.
Dave followed.
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
“Want food?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I'm tired.”
“Exactly. That's why you need food.”
“Dave.”
“Hmm?”
“Can you just…”
I stopped.
He waited.
“Can you just walk with me?”
He blinked.
Then smiled.
“Sure.”
We walked toward the terminal.
No jokes.
No teasing.
Just quiet.
Then he suddenly said—
“You know, my aunt doesn't usually hire students.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because of the schedule.”
“Then why did she hire me?”
He looked ahead.
“She said you reminded her of someone.”
“Who?”
“My mom.”
I stopped.
He continued walking before realizing I wasn't beside him.
He turned around.
“What?”
“Your mom?”
He nodded.
“She used to work here.”
“Used to?”
He looked away.
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
He didn't answer.
I waited.
Finally, he said—
“She died.”
The words were simple.
But his voice wasn't.
I didn't know what to say.
So I didn't.
We continued walking.
After a while, he spoke again.
“She was the strongest person I knew.”
I looked at him.
“Sounds like your mom.”
He smiled faintly.
“Yeah.”
Then he looked at me.
“That's why I noticed you.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Dave.”
He shook his head.
“Forget it.”
I didn't push him.
Not this time.
---
The next day, I arrived at the grocery store for my shift.
Tita Marissa wasn't there.
Neither was Dave.
I went behind the counter.
A few minutes later, a man walked in.
I recognized him.
The same man from our house.
Mr. Santos.
I froze.
He looked at me.
Then smiled.
“Althea.”
My blood ran cold.
“Why are you here?”
He placed a folder on the counter.
“I believe we have something to discuss.”
I looked around.
The store suddenly felt too small.
“What?”
He opened the folder.
“Your family's loan.”
My stomach dropped.
“How do you know I'm working here?”
He smiled.
“Because I own the company handling your mother's debt.”
I couldn't breathe.
Then he added—
“And unfortunately, your thirty-day deadline has been reduced.”
I stared at him.
“To what?”
“Twenty days.”
My hands tightened around the counter.
“Why?”
He closed the folder.
“Because your mother missed another payment.”
I felt the world tilt.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
“Sir?”
Dave.
He was standing at the entrance.
He looked at Mr. Santos.
Then at me.
His expression changed.
“Why are you here?”
Mr. Santos smiled.
“That's exactly what I was about to ask your friend.”
Dave's face went pale.
“Friend?”
Mr. Santos looked between us.
Then said quietly—
“Does she know who your father is?”
I looked at Dave.
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
And suddenly—
I realized there was a whole part of Dave's life he had never told me about.
A part that might have something to do with my family.
And judging by the look on his face—
he was terrified that I was about to find out.
- Writer
