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  "Miss Vasquez?"

  The voice sounded strangely calm. I ran to the door, cracked it open, and saw (my favorite) security guard Alan on the other side. "What's happening?"

  "Ma'am, fire drill. You have to go to the fire escape now."

  "I will, I will, I just need to...wait, no fire, right?"

  "Yes, just lock your unit, we should be done in an hour."

  "Okay, let me just get—"

  "Ma'am, you have to go now. We have to evacuate the entire building in the shortest time possible."

  And that was how I wound up in the fire escape stairwell in my Winnie the Pooh shirt and pink pants.

  My apartment was on the tenth floor of a fifteen-floor building, so that didn't sound so bad to me. I mean, it could have been worse. Walking ten floors down wasn't so bad, way easier than going up. I could hear voices on the stairwell but they were all below me. I was probably one of the last to be led out.

  At the ninth floor, someone joined me. Blue shirt, khaki pants. Of course it was 9th Floor.

  He usually didn't say hi to anyone, but it was difficult to pretend not to see me in that small space and with my Pooh shirt. He smiled and fell into step beside me. "I overslept this morning too," he said.

  "Oh, I didn't oversleep. I'm really in bed at this time."

  He laughed a little.

  Eighth floor.

  "I'm Moira," I said. "Tenth floor."

  "Ethan," he said. "Ninth floor."

  "Yeah," I said, and then I wished I didn't. "I...we've been in the elevator together a few times."

  "Right sorry. I don't usually talk to neighbors."

  "It's okay."

  "No, it's not. People probably think I'm rude. Sorry about that."

  Seventh floor, still no one else but us.

  "Are we the last people to be evacuated?" I wondered.

  "You knew this was going to happen right? Everyone else probably left early, made sure they wouldn't be here when the drill started."

  "I forgot about it. What's your excuse?"

  He shrugged. "Overslept. And it's just a nine-floor walk anyway."

  Sixth floor.

  We marched down the steps in silence for a bit. At first I was thinking of something to say, and then I was overwhelmed by my legs protesting on me.

  Fifth floor.

  Oh god, shortness of breath. My right calf threatening to cramp. I paused for a second, and Ethan noticed when he was suddenly half a flight of stairs ahead of me.

  "Are you okay?" he said.

  I waved him off. "Fine. Am fine." Not fine enough for complete sentences though.

  He ran back up to me and touched my elbow. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm fine. Really." And I gathered up some energy to smile and start walking again.

  "Sometimes it can get stuffy in these fire escapes," he was saying, slowing down to match my pace. "Deep breaths."

  I couldn't. I was trying, but my lungs were cutting me off halfway through. Good thing my legs kind of went on autopilot and were just marching through the pain. Yeah there was a little pain.

  Fourth floor.

  "Do you need help?" Ethan said suddenly.

  "I'm fine," said the girl on the verge of collapsing. "Legs complaining."

  "Do you have asthma?"

  I shook my head.

  "Are you sure?"

  I nodded. He was being nice, and I could already hear Roxie's voice in my head yelling at me to be nicer. But I didn't want our first ever encounter to be him carrying my unconscious body out of this building. So I trained my eyes forward and kept walking.

  "You don't have to respond, but I'm just going to keep talking," he said, "Because it'll help make the walk seem faster. Or at least it will for me. You can tell me later if this just made it more horrible for you."

  I managed a smile.

  "I'm renting," he was saying, "A one-bedroom. It looks great, and the owner hasn't even tried to live there. I almost feel bad about sitting on the couch, everything's so new. But everything in the building's new anyway."

  Third floor. A numb feeling started near my knees and moved up my thighs.

  And Ethan hadn't stopped talking.

  "...it's really convenient too. I work in Beckett, the consulting firm across the street. First time I've lived so close to where I work, and of course I'm always late now. But it was either this or a cheaper place on the other side of the highway."

  Oh no, not the other side of the highway. That was where we had to go if we wanted a wider supermarket selection or better deals on gadgets, but it was also a seedier part of town. Rent was cheaper though. I made sure he saw me smile, that I appreciated this conversation, and it was probably the only thing that was keeping me from just giving up.

  I also silently thanked the universe that he had chosen to spend a little more and wound up in my building instead.

  Second floor.

  "...and they actually deliver the laundry to my door, so I thought it was a good deal..."

  Yeah, the laundry shop over in Tower 1 was awesome that way.

  Ground floor. I was so relieved to make it to the street. We were ushered by building security to a designated safe zone and I saw everyone else there, everyone else in Tower 3, at least those who didn't skip out on fire drill day.

  And then I dropped my hands to my knees and tried to catch my breath.

  "Hey, hey, not here in the crowd." Hands on my upper arms gently up and led me to the edge of the safe zone, away from the people. "What's happening?"

  I took a breath, and then more, and he was just waiting for me to answer. Thankfully by then the feeling was coming back everywhere. "I'm better. I just found out how out of shape I am."

  And then Ethan from the ninth floor laughed. "Yeah, you should work on that, Moira. We have a gym in Tower 3 you know."

  There was a presentation that we were supposed to be watching. A representative from the city fire department was speaking on a makeshift stage, and had called on a fellow Tower 3 resident to demo using a fire extinguisher. She was a senior citizen, hair as gray as my grandmother's, and looked a little excited to be given a chance to put out the small controlled fire.

  I realized that my lungs were accepting deep breaths again, and I turned to Ethan, still beside me. "Thank you," I said. "Thanks for talking to me in there."

  "Did it help?"

  "Yes it did." In that I found out more about him than I ever would have dared to ask on a normal elevator ride. "And I'm alive, so it worked."

  "Yeah, that was the longest conversation I've had with a neighbor."

  "I don't remember all of it though. I was just trying not to pass out."

  "Maybe when I see you next," Ethan said, "I'll go over everything again."

  "I'll pay attention," I promised.

  Chapter 3

  It took an hour for the fire drill to wind down, but I learned my lesson for the day. I had to get moving again. So after a quick brunch that consisted of salad greens and a soggy tomato, I headed over to the Tower 3 pool on the fourth floor.

  It was before noon and no one else wanted to be at the outdoor pool with the sun so high. So it was just me and the Fabulous Matilda.

  Matilda from the fifteenth floor spent a lot of time by the pool, but never in the water. She instead acted like she was sunning herself, except her skin was actually quite pale, because she would pull a lounge chair into the narrow shaded area by the pool and stay there. She was in a gold bikini that day, when I met her, but apparently she had more than a dozen different types and wore a different one every day. So it was like my sweatpants thing, but with less fabric. And better abs.

  I didn't think she'd be the type who would be friendly, but then again I shouldn't have been surprised. Roxie was the same way, and I seemed to be a magnet for female friends who had a bit of an edge to them. Matilda was gorgeous and it looked like she spent a lot of money to maintain it. Not the kind of friend I met at school, at work, or anywhere, but NV Park was the place to start I gu
ess.

  She'd been living there for three weeks too and was itching to talk to somebody, anybody. Lying on her stomach, she lifted her sunglasses and peered at me as I waded into the shallow end of the pool.

  "I have a halter style suit that'll look great on you," she said.

  "I don't think we're the same size," I replied.

  "It'll fit you," Matilda insisted. "I know what I'm talking about."

  She watched me, humored me maybe, as I swam several laps and tried to be all athletic about it. I gave up after fifteen minutes, and instead pulled another chair into the shade next to her.

  "I'm here every day, at this time," she explained, "Too hot for the kids and the nannies."

  "Do you have a job?" I asked.

  "I work from home," was her answer.

  What exactly could that job have been, when she was hanging out at the pool in the middle of the day? That I wanted to know. So I asked.

  "I bake. Or sometimes I make candles, or soap," she said. That didn't sound like real work, not the way I defined it. Which made me want to know more about her, but she instead kept asking me questions.

  "I'm surprised you didn't stay there," she said, about my recent move, pausing to rub baby oil on a flawless left leg.

  "Singapore? It wasn't for me."

  "Five years isn't long enough to decide that. And you're what, twenty-five?"

  "Twenty-seven, but thanks."

  "You're my age. We don't know anything. Can you go back if you can't find a job here? Because I know people, I can ask around if they know any jobs."

  The sun was touching the very tips of my toes, and I busied myself with wriggling them. "Thanks, but I'm going to try somewhere else I think."

  She rolled to face me and took off her sunglasses. I wouldn't have guessed she was my age; her face carried the signs of plastic perfection, which I associated with middle-aged women. Still, she looked like a doll, and would probably be frozen in this ageless form for as long as her doctor could manage it. Her forehead barely moved, but I could see her judgment. "Did something happen there? Did they kick you out of the country?"

  "Of course not."

  "Just asking. I won't be able to help you if you don't tell me the dirt about that."

  "I'm not planning to stay in Manila that long anyway. But I don't think the next move will be back to Singapore."

  "Up to you." She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. "Is it a guy? Is that why you're hanging around? If you want to hook up with anyone I know someone on the eighth floor who'd be willing. What's your type?"

  "I like...I don't know. Smart guys."

  "That's funny. You don't really mean that. Maybe Ethan from the ninth floor is smart, he's in IT consulting or whatever. But he's good in bed. Great kisser."

  I coughed, or maybe just in my mind. "How do you know that?"

  Matilda stretched a flawless arm over her head. "It's the quiet ones. They've never disappointed me."

  "So he's not a disappointment then?" Because I did want to know, in an odd way. One of the things I had to accept when I moved away from Manila was that I was going to meet people that grew up somewhere else and expected different things. So I learned to put "curious" as my default setting, instead of "judgmental."

  Judgement could come later, if I found out that Ethan went for Matilda and her perfection. Because as far as I could tell she was not stupid, and neither was I, but we formed two different physical types and I think it would be easy to rule out from my future any guy who would choose her first.

  Matilda shook her head, but she looked determined. "I haven't tried it. But I know he'll be good."

  Judgment deferred.

  But now more curious.

  This was not the kind of conversation I was used to having with friends, and yet it covered pretty much the same topics—career and relationships. Matilda talked about it her own way, and it was less off-putting if I translated it in my head into what was familiar, and not at all creepy.

  "I think I want to enjoy this for now, thanks. No jobs or hooking up today."

  "I get it. Living in this building makes me forget sometimes about the shit that's happening outside. But I always assume that everyone wants to get away from something."

  "That's... profound." And also telling. "What exactly do you do again?"

  She didn't give an answer, at least not one that seemed like the truth. She lived in a large apartment on the top floor, and spent all day at the pool. Her money was coming from somewhere.

  Maybe she was the one doing it right.

  -///-

  MATILDA

  I. CAREER AND FINANCES

  + Has money but does nothing all day

  + Can afford NV Park

  - No career?

  II. FAMILY AND FRIENDSHIPS

  ?

  - Doesn’t seem to be hanging out with anyone else (though she knows people in the building)

  III. LOVE AND RELATIONSHIPS

  + Does not seem to have a problem getting anyone she wants

  ? Does she have someone she wants?

  IV. PERSONAL FULFILLMENT

  + Has hobbies (a lot)

  - How happy is someone who is alone all day?

  -///-

  Moi,

  I've booked my ticket! I'll be there, ready to move in, June 1! My classes will start on the 15th so I think that's enough time to settle in and buy stuff. But I won't have to buy furniture right? The apartment's got everything? Does it have hot water?

  I'm so excited!

  Kisses,

  Megan

  My mom had some explaining to do.

  She no longer lived in Manila, at least as of her fifty-fifth birthday. Last year she and my dad moved back to Bulacan, to be near my grandmother, and I just spoke to her on the phone last night. She complained a bit about the cable reception; I told her that I had forgotten how long it took to travel anywhere in Manila. She and I were going through the same hometown-adjustment blues. I thought we had a renewed appreciation of each other or something.

  She never mentioned this though. Ha! Renewed appreciation phooey.

  "Of course I offered your place. Her mom's willing to pay rent," she said, in that matter-of-fact way that she probably used on my cousin Megan in California, which explained why I would get that email from her as if I knew what she was talking about.

  "I'm still living here! Are you planning to evict me?"

  "I thought you'd appreciate the financial help, Moira. And you keep saying you're taking off again anyway. I thought you'd be gone by June, to be honest."

  The thing about this NV Park fancy apartment—it wasn't completely mine yet. The paperwork had my name on it, sure, but there was that bank loan I had to get so I could raise the money to move in on turnover day. The monthly payment was manageable. However, my mom co-signed the loan. I could see why she would think she had the right to kick me out of it, in favor of a paying customer.

  "I have enough saved up to pay the bank, mom."

  "Until when? Honey, don't be mad at me. This is good news. Megan's going to college here so you have a paying tenant for four years. You won't have to worry about the loan for a long time."

  It all made sense, if I imagined that I was someone else, and I was talking to someone not my mother, meaning our history of rearranging each other's lives did not exist.

  "You don't want it? Are you going to tell her to find another place?"

  "No," I relented, sighing. "It's fine. I'll be out of here by June."

  She was right though, because sometimes I was fine with letting her be right. How long did I think I was going to be bumming around? Megan's move could be a good thing.

  Chapter 4

  During the time when I was into non-exclusively seeing people, I discovered that I could go out with guys without necessarily wanting to go further with each one. Whether they agreed or not was a different thing, and ultimately not my problem.

  What made me want it, was, well, wanting it. Not somethin
g I could explain. I didn't feel it with every guy who looked, stood, or talked a certain way. Maybe it was Matilda's fault for planting the thought in my head about Ethan specifically, but surely I was only open to it because I thought of it first, because Roxie made me think of it first. Chicken or egg.

  Could not speak for all women, but I knew that if I was on that train, given the opportunity, I'd get off at that station. If you know what I mean.

  The day after the fire drill, I wandered into the Tower 3 gym after nine p.m. It was empty, and that was a relief. I never really got used to gyms and being around people who were grunting and sweating. The only time I ever tried it, I was in a gym with model types and they all looked at me like I walked into the wrong room.

  But the day after the fire drill I had designated Action Day.

  First I stocked up on groceries, so I finally would have more than three days' worth in my cupboards.

  In between cooking my own meals, I tested out my new mop on the floors, changed my bed sheets, and brought them to the laundry shop myself.

  And then I went to the gym. It was shiny and new, if a bit bare. Two treadmills facing the mirrored wall, weights, something that simulated skiing, two exercise bikes. Ethan happened by fifteen minutes after I had figured out the treadmill, and he looked happy to see me.

  "Hey," he said, heading over to the weights. He was wearing a white shirt branded with a company outing logo from three years ago, and shorts. "I was going to say hi but wasn't sure where to find you."

  His calves looked strong.

  "Hi, neighbor." I flashed him a cheerful smile, while trying to keep up my brisk walk. "I'm at 10J."

  He blinked. "Oh. I'm 9J."

  Which was how I started thinking about how he had been under me, every day, all this time.

  My treadmill routine was something called a Sunday Stroll. I just pressed that button randomly and it was counting down from thirty minutes. He had turned away from me, and I figured that was a good time to plug in my earbuds and tune him out, and spare him from having to think of conversation topics again.