Chapter 8: Favor
Eliana Maxine
It's been almost four days since our sleepover at Mica's place, and now, I'm on a mission.
I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, laptop balanced on my thighs, scrolling through job listings with a deep frown on my face. Aunt George's 40th birthday is coming up next month, and I'm determined to buy her something special.
She's not just family to me—she was my everything.
After my mom passed away when I was eight, and with no dad in the picture because the pathetic excuse of a man ran the second he found out my mom was pregnant, it was Aunt George who stepped up without hesitation. She raised me like her own.
Sure, I still have my grandparents back in the Philippines, but here, in this country, Aunt George is all I have. My only family. My rock.
So for her 40th birthday, I wanted to show her just how much she meant to me. There's no way I'm using the allowance she gives me to buy her gift. That would defeat the whole point. It wouldn't mean anything if the money came from her, too. I want it to come from me—my effort, my time, my money.
That's why I've been glued to my laptop for hours, digging through every part-time job post I can find, hoping to land something I can actually stick with even after classes started again.
My stomach kept growling, but I ignore it. I'm too focused to care.
The problem is, most places are looking for long-term employees, not someone who'll only be around for a few weeks. And the ones that did accept short-term hires? The pay is laughable. I'd be lucky to afford a decent meal, let alone a meaningful birthday present.
I sighed and clicked on a listing for a café job. Maybe I could squeeze in a few morning shifts before school or go in late afternoons after classes. I'd make it work somehow.
Just as I started reading the job requirements, my phone buzzed beside me.
I glanced at the screen.
Mica calling…
I swiped to answer and pressed the phone to my ear. "Hey, what's up?"
["Still job-hunting?"] Mica's voice came through, casual like always.
I let out a heavy sigh.
I had already told them in the group chat that I was looking for a part-time gig, so she knew how much I was struggling right now.
"Yeah. Turns out it's way harder than I expected. No one wants to hire someone who's only available for a few weeks."
There was a pause on the other end. I frowned. "Hello? Mics? You still there?"
I pulled my phone away to check if the call had dropped, but the timer was still running.
Then she finally spoke, her voice oddly hesitant. ["Listen… I have a favor to ask."]
My frown deepened.
Now that was weird. Mica was never shy about asking favors. If she was being this careful, it had to be serious.
"What kind of favor?"
There was another pause before Mica spoke again, sounding… hesitant. And that wasn't like her at all. ["It's about my current job."]
I sat up straighter. "Your… date-for-hire thing?"
["Yeah… I have this new client. I was supposed to meet him tomorrow morning. But… I can't go. I'm si—"] Mica broke off into a nasty cough.
My eyebrows knit together, concern creeping in. "Mics, are you okay?"
["No. I feel like absolute crap. I think I caught the flu or something."]
"What? How? Let me guess, you've probably been neglecting your health again with all that non-stop hustling, haven't you? Ever heard of resting, Micaela? Rest is a thing, you know. You can't just keep grinding like this."
["I know when to rest, okay?"] she said defensively. ["I'm not neglecting my health. I rarely get sick, this just happened to be bad timing. It sucks because, of all days, it had to be right before I meet this client."]
"Then cancel it. Or at least postpone the meet-up," I said firmly. "Your health is more important than money."
["I can't. That's the problem,"] she groaned. ["I already signed a contract and got the advance payment. And this client? He's not like the others. He hates having his time wasted. It has to be tomorrow."]
I blinked. "What do you mean it has to be tomorrow? Can't you just refund the money or pay a cancellation fee or something?"
["…I can't do that either."]
A sinking feeling settled in my stomach. "Why not?"
Silence.
My gut twisted. "Mica, please don't tell me—"
["I already spent most of it."]
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "Mica!"
["I had bills to pay, okay?"] she snapped, clearly frustrated.
I took a slow breath, trying to keep my voice calm even as anxiety started rising in my chest. "Then what are you going to do now?"
Another pause. Then her voice came through again, softer this time, almost timid.
["About the favor I mentioned.. I was thinking… maybe you could go in my place?"]
I froze.
"…What?"
["Just for tomorrow,"] she rushed out. ["I swear, it's nothing shady. You just sit there, make small talk, and that's it. Easy money. And you need cash right now, yeah? Then this is perfect for you. It's just a one-time thing. You only have to go in my place for this—just this once—and you'll get paid enough that you won't even need to look for a part-time job anymore."]
My brain short-circuited. Was she seriously asking me to do this?
"I—I don't know, Mica. Is that even allowed?" I stammered.
["It is! I mean… technically, yes,"] she said, though she still sounded uncertain.
I narrowed my eyes, even though she couldn't see me. "Mics, you're being way too vague. What aren't you telling me?"
She let out a dramatic sigh. ["Nothing! You just… look, I'm really sick, El. I can't go. I wouldn't be asking you a favor if I had any other choice."] she pleaded, then a fit of coughing followed making me wince.
My chest tightened. This wasn't like her. Sure, Mica could be impulsive and reckless sometimes, but she never sounded this desperate.
I bit my lip, torn.
Every part of my brain was screaming no. To tell her to deal with it herself. To tell her it's her responsibility.
But then I heard her cough again. Weak, raspy. And my heart tugged.
Mica was sick. Really sick. And despite all her flaws and questionable decisions, she was still my friend.
I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh. "You owe me for this."
She gasped. ["So you'll do it?!"]
"Against my better judgment, yes," I grumbled.
["THANK YOU, EL! You're a lifesaver!"] she practically screamed in relief. ["I'll text you the details. The meet-up is at 9 AM tomorrow at a fancy restaurant. Oh, and wear something nice."]
"Ugh. Fine," I muttered.
Mica thanked me over and over before finally hanging up.
A second later, her message popped up with all the information: the client's name, the restaurant's address, the time. Everything.
I stared at it, a tight knot forming in my stomach.
Sure, I needed the money. But I wasn't that desperate. Still, how could I just turn my back on her when she clearly had no one else to rely on?
Even if… something about this felt terribly, terribly wrong.