Chapter 43 - Their House #2
"Good grades. Responsible. Good job. Never really caused problems."
I looked toward the dining area.
Tori was talking to Marco.
Neutral face.
Listening.
"She caused problems," Bea added.
I laughed.
"I'm sure."
"But controlled problems."
Fair.
Then Bea said—
"Mom likes being proud of her."
There.
That sounded different.
Not bad.
Just revealing.
"And when Tori does something outside the picture..."
Bea shrugged.
"She doesn't know where to put it."
I thought of the wall.
Awards.
Certificates.
Trophies.
Eight.
That explained some things.
Maybe more than some.
Bea looked at me.
"Don't tell Tori I said all that."
"Why?"
"She'll say I psychoanalyzed the family without consent."
I smiled.
"She'd have a point."
"See? Annoying."
"Very."
Later, Tori showed me her old room.
That felt weirdly intimate.
Not sexually.
Historically.
Her room was mostly preserved.
Books.
Old desk.
A small corkboard.
College ID.
Running medals.
School papers.
A cabinet.
More awards.
I stared.
Tori closed the door behind us.
"Don't count."
"Too late."
"Lia."
"You were terrifying."
"I was normal."
"You had a color-coded study schedule."
"So?"
"At seventeen?"
"Yes."
"Terrifying."
She rolled her eyes.
I smiled.
Then saw an old photo.
Tori younger.
Maybe sixteen.
Holding a medal.
Her mother beside her.
Her father on the other side.
Everyone smiling.
Tori followed my gaze.
"She was proud."
"Your mom?"
"Yes."
I looked at her.
Tori sat on the edge of the bed.
I sat beside her.
"She still is," she said.
Then—
"When I'm doing something she understands."
There.
I stayed quiet.
Tori looked at her hands.
"I know she loves me."
"I know."
"But sometimes..."
She stopped.
I waited.
"She likes the version of me that makes sense to her more."
That hurt.
Not because her mother was some monster.
She clearly wasn't.
Which made it more complicated.
Tori laughed once.
Weak.
"I sound dramatic."
"No."
"I have good parents."
"That doesn't cancel the part that hurts."
She looked at me.
I shrugged.
"Both can be true."
Her shoulders loosened slightly.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Then I reached for her hand.
She gave it.
"I don't want you fighting them," she said.
"I won't."
"I mean it."
"I know."
"I don't want them impressed into acceptance because you're successful."
There.
"They need to deal with me first."
Not—
us.
Me.
I nodded.
"Okay."
"And I don't want you giving them reasons why I'm still a good daughter."
That one landed harder.
Because I understood exactly what she meant.
No—
she's still responsible.
Still accomplished.
Still respectable.
Still useful.
As if having a girlfriend needed compensation.
I squeezed her hand.
"You shouldn't have to balance one part of yourself with another just to stay acceptable."
Tori looked at me.
Then nodded.
"Exactly."
Better.
Cleaner.
No business metaphor required.
She leaned her head against my shoulder.
We sat there.
Quiet.
Then—
"I really like you."
Simple.
I smiled.
"I really like you too."
She lifted her head.
"Even after lunch?"
"Especially after lunch."
"That sounds suspicious."
"I like data."
Tori rolled her eyes.
There she was.
I laughed.
Then kissed her cheek.
Quick.
Easy.
Her house.
Her old room.
Her parents outside.
Current Tori choosing affection anyway.
I turned toward her.
"Can I kiss you?"
Her expression softened.
"Yes."
So I did.
Not long.
Not dramatic.
Just enough.
When we pulled apart, she stayed close.
Forehead almost touching mine.
Then—
"You're still coming Wednesday?"
I laughed softly.
"We're girlfriends."
"That wasn't my question."
"Yes."
"Okay."
I smiled.
Much better word.
When we came downstairs, Tita Elena was packing food.
Apparently mothers remained mothers regardless of emotional complexity.
"For Lia."
I stopped.
"Oh. Thank you po."
She handed me one container.
Then another.
"Your mother sent cassava cake."
"Yes po."
"Masarap."
I smiled.
"I'll tell her."
Pause.
Then—
"You can come again."
There.
Small.
Careful.
Not—
I approve.
Not—
welcome to the family.
But not—
don't come back.
I looked at Tori.
Her expression barely changed.
A tiny shift near her mouth.
She heard it.
I looked back at her mother.
"Thank you po."
Tita Elena nodded.
Then—
"Drive safely."
"Yes po."
Tito Ramon walked us toward the door.
He shook my hand again.
Then looked at Tori.
"Message when you get home."
"I will."
Normal.
Family.
Complicated.
Both.
Outside, Tori exhaled so hard I laughed.
She looked at me.
"What?"
"You've been holding that since lunch."
"Since Wednesday."
I reached for her hand.
She gave it immediately.
"How bad?"
Tori thought.
"Better than expected."
"Carlo?"
Her eyes rolled.
"Expected."
"Do I need to know who he is?"
"No."
"Excellent."
Then I paused.
"Unless you want me to destroy him professionally."
Tori stared.
I smiled.
"Kidding."
"You are not allowed to weaponize business because my mother mentioned a man."
"Very restrictive relationship."
"Correct."
We walked toward the car.
Then she stopped.
"Thank you."
"For?"
"You didn't do the thing."
"What thing?"
"Perform."
Oh.
I looked at her.
Tori continued—
"You could have."
"Yes."
"You could've made yourself look perfect for them."
"I am naturally very impressive."
"Lia."
"Sorry."
She smiled despite herself.
Then—
"You know what I mean."
I did.
Success.
Money.
Credentials.
Confidence.
All the things her parents could use to reassure themselves—
At least the girlfriend is impressive.
No.
Tori didn't want an exception.
She wanted her life accepted without a résumé attached.
"I remembered what you said."
She nodded.
"Thank you."
That one felt different.
Real.
Then—
"My mother liked your cassava cake."
"My mother won."
"She always does?"
"Frequently."
"Noted."
Dangerous.
Inside the car, before I left, Tori leaned against the open door.
"Next week?"
I stared.
"You're still asking?"
"Yes."
"You know we're girlfriends."
"Yes."
"Then why?"
"I like asking."
That was—
actually cute.
I smiled.
"Yes."
"Wednesday?"
"Yes."
"Dinner?"
"Yes."
"My place?"
I narrowed my eyes.
"Are you cooking?"
"No."
"Then definitely."
She laughed.
Then leaned in.
Stopped.
"Can I?"
"Yes."
She kissed me.
Soft.
Then—
"Drive safe."
"I have a driver."
"Be safely driven."
"Better."
"Message me."
"Yes."
"Eat later."
"I just ate."
"Later."
I stared.
"Are you becoming my mother?"
"No."
"Excellent."
She laughed and closed the door.
On the way home, I thought about the house.
Eight awards.
Her mother's pride.
Carlo.
The unfinished—
they're okay with...
Tori saying—
I have a girlfriend sitting beside me.
And then—
I don't want you giving them reasons why I'm still a good daughter.
I understood her a little better now.
Tori had spent a lot of her life being easy to approve of.
Good student.
Responsible daughter.
Good employee.
Organized.
Reliable.
Understandable.
Then she stepped outside the shape people expected—
and suddenly she could feel the approval becoming conditional.
No wonder she cared whether I liked her—
not only what she did.
No wonder she wanted clarity.
No wonder she told me not to choose her just because she asked first.
She wasn't trying to win.
She wanted to know that the choice was actually mine.
That it was actually her.
My phone buzzed.
Tori.
mom says tell your mom the cassava cake was really good
I smiled.
i will
Then—
also she packed you food because she packs everyone food. don't overinterpret
I laughed.
noted
Pause.
Then—
still better than expected
I looked at the containers beside me.
Yeah.
Better than expected.
Not solved.
Not fixed.
Not won.
Just—
one lunch.
One uncomfortable conversation.
One small invitation to come again.
Enough.
For now.