Chapter 8 - More Room #2
Also the neighbor who played music too loudly.
Still—
I knew it.
Familiar.
Easy.
Maybe I could move there earlier.
I searched.
Found the building.
Then stared.
FULLY OCCUPIED.
Of course.
I laughed.
My assistant looked over.
"What po?"
"Memory is not prophecy."
They blinked.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I closed the listing.
Rule twenty-one remained undefeated.
So I searched properly.
Not based on nostalgia.
Current listings.
Current prices.
Current conditions.
Within reasonable distance from home.
Ground floor preferred.
Accessible for deliveries.
No obvious flood issues.
Enough electrical capacity.
Ventilation.
Internet.
Bathroom.
Safe enough that employees could come and go.
I shortlisted four.
One was too expensive.
One was suspiciously cheap.
One had terrible access.
The fourth—
interesting.
Slightly farther than Original Life's first workspace.
Still close.
Small.
Not pretty.
But potentially good.
I messaged the landlord.
Viewing available Tuesday afternoon.
Good.
Around lunchtime, Mama called.
I went down on time.
No summons required.
She noticed.
Obviously.
"Wow."
I sat.
"Please."
"Wala akong sinasabi."
"You said wow."
"Wow lang."
Sofia was eating too.
Mama served soup.
"May ginagawa ka?"
"Looking for workspace."
She stopped.
"Saan?"
"Nearby."
"Lilipat na business?"
"Maybe."
"Bakit?"
"Masikip na."
Mama nodded immediately.
"Yes."
I stared.
"That fast?"
"Ano?"
"I expected resistance."
"Bakit?"
"Rent."
"Eh kung hindi na kasya dito?"
There.
Simple.
Ramos logic.
Problem:
No space.
Solution:
Get space.
Beautiful.
"Exactly."
Mama looked toward the stairs.
"Yung boxes mo umaabot na sa hallway."
"They do not."
"Malapit na."
Sofia:
"True."
I looked at her.
"Whose side are you on?"
"Space."
Traitor.
Mama asked—
"Magkano rent?"
I told her the range.
She made the appropriate Filipino-mother face.
"Mahal."
"Yeah."
"Bawi naman?"
"If numbers support it."
"Edi compute mo."
I stared.
"That's the plan."
"Then okay."
Again.
No business degree.
No strategic planning workshop.
Just:
Compute.
If it works, okay.
I loved this family.
After lunch, I returned upstairs.
There was a new message from Jane.
Alive?
I stared.
Then laughed.
Unfortunately.
She replied:
Good ??
I typed:
You need new material.
Headache?
No.
Dizzy?
No, Nurse Navarro.
Good
I sent:
Blocked.
Then she asked—
Nasa work ka?
Bedroom empire.
Rest ka din.
I looked at the time.
1:04 PM.
I slept 8 hours.
Wow
Why is everyone impressed by basic human function
Because ikaw yan
I sighed.
Same answer as yesterday.
Apparently Jane had a thesis.
Then:
Btw nasayo shirt ko
I looked down.
Still wearing it.
Fuck.
I know.
Magnanakaw
Collateral
For what
Emotional damages from alcohol supervision
There was a pause.
Then:
Sige sayo na ??
I blinked.
Really?
Luma na yan
I looked at the shirt.
Comfortable.
Soft.
Smelled mostly like me now, unfortunately.
Fine. Thanks.
Welcome
Then:
Pero wag mo amuyin.
I stared.
FUCK YOU
Jane:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I put the phone face down.
My assistant looked at me.
I looked back.
"Work."
"Opo."
Good employee.
No questions.
Tuesday afternoon, I went to see the commercial space.
Mama came with me.
Not because I needed permission.
Because she wanted to see.
Fair.
The landlord opened the unit.
I stepped inside.
Small.
About what I expected.
White walls that needed cleaning.
Old tile.
One main room.
Small area in the back.
Bathroom.
Rolling door in front.
Not beautiful.
But—
usable.
I walked the perimeter.
Checked outlets.
Windows.
Ceiling.
Water stains.
Mama watched.
"Okay naman."
"Maybe."
"Kasya?"
"Three tables easily."
"Printers?"
"That side."
"Shelves?"
"Here."
Mama nodded.
Then opened the bathroom.
"May tubig?"
Landlord:
"Meron po."
Mama turned the faucet on anyway.
I almost laughed.
Due diligence.
Ramos edition.
I asked about flooding.
Electricity.
Deposit.
Advance.
Restrictions.
Operating hours.
Signage.
Internet installation.
Parking.
Delivery access.
The landlord answered.
Mostly acceptable.
One concern:
electrical load.
We'd need to verify before adding several machines.
I noted it.
No rushing.
No emotional attachment.
Just information.
Mama looked at me.
"Gusto mo?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"I need numbers."
She nodded.
"Okay."
Not:
Kuninin mo na.
Not:
Sayang.
Just—
okay.
I appreciated that.
Outside, Mama asked—
"Dati ba may ganyan ka?"
I froze.
"What?"
"Workspace."
Right.
Normal question.
"Yes."
"Kelangan mo talaga?"
I looked back at the small unit.
Eventually?
Absolutely.
Now?
Maybe.
That was the real question.
Did I need it because the business required it?
Or because I remembered having one and wanted to accelerate toward what I knew?
Different things.
"I'll check."
Mama nodded.
"Wag ka padalos-dalos."
I smiled.
"Yeah."
If only Original Life Mama knew how many times I eventually ignored that exact advice.
That evening, Papa came home around six-thirty.
Mano.
Dinner.
Normal.
Mama told him immediately.
"Tumitingin si Lia ng pwesto."
Papa looked at me.
"Business?"
"Yeah."
"Okay?"
"Potentially."
"Magkano?"
I told him.
Same face as Mama.
"Mahal."
I laughed.
"You're married."
"What?"
"Same reaction."
Mama laughed.
Papa ignored me.
"Kaya ba ng business?"
"Yes. But I need to check if worth it now."
He nodded.
"Wag dahil gusto mo lang."
I stopped.
There.
Exactly.
"Yeah."
"Pag kailangan, saka."
I smiled.
"Thanks, Pa."
"For what?"
"Nothing."
Apparently I was surrounded by accidental consultants.
That night, I calculated.
Rent.
Utilities.
Internet.
Deposit.
Equipment move.
Tables.
Shelves.
Transportation.
Additional labor capacity.
Time saved by having proper workflow.
Potential growth.
I ran conservative numbers.
Then aggressive numbers.
Then realistic numbers.
Could I afford it?
Yes.
Was it necessary immediately?
Not quite.
Could I make the bedroom work another month?
Probably.
Two?
Maybe.
Would waiting until the room became impossible be stupid?
Yes.
So—
not now.
Soon.
That was different from Original Lia.
She had two speeds.
Too early because excited.
Or:
Too late because kaya pa.
Maybe there was a third option.
Prepare.
Then move when the numbers said move.
Wild.
I opened my notebook.
Thought about writing another rule.
Then laughed.
"No."
Enough fucking rules.
Instead, I wrote a note beside the workspace calculation:
Review in 30 days.
Simple.
Specific.
No prophecy.
No rush.
My phone buzzed.
Group chat.
Chloe:
Sunday?
Jane:
Game
Then:
Lia?
I looked around my room.
Orders.
Boxes.
Work.
A business that would always be capable of producing one more task.
Then typed:
Game.
Chloe:
Wow
Jane:
Growth
I stared.
I hate both of you
Chloe:
Where
Jane:
RCS?
Chloe:
Food?
Me:
Obviously
Jane:
12?
I smiled.
Sure.
No calendar optimization.
No moving work around at midnight to compensate.
Sunday was allowed to exist.
I put my phone down.
Then looked at the commercial-space photos again.
More room.
Eventually.
For the business.
For employees.
For inventory.
But maybe that wasn't the only kind of space I needed to learn how to make.
I closed the listing.
Turned off the laptop.
It was nine-thirty.
The printer beeped.
I looked at it.
"Don't."
It stayed silent.
Finally.
Something in this life was learning boundaries.