Riptide

Scared of Dentists and the Dark

It was a strange call. Caller ID gave away the strange number. It was a number abroad. Maybe a number from home. Funny, they think it "home" like it was also their own. For all its 7,107 islands, they have never set foot on any one of them.

So, home? Home meant their parents' home. So it was a call from the "Pearl of the Orient".

"You get it," Cienne said, staring at the phone like it was an unraveling, malicious, Jack-in-the-Box

Camille shot her a look. Narrowed eyes and pursed lips. As if their little debate would eat up enough time to stop the phone from ringing.

There were never calls from "home". Only emails and Facebook posts and messenger. Mostly good news: someone passing the board or the bar, or a little cousin's first recital, or a distant uncle celebrating his golden birthday

When Camille had her hand on the receiver, she looked back to Cienne. Her eyes pleaded. Nervous. The younger twin.

Shy, most likely to chicken out.

There was a phrase their father used to say, referring to someone at work. "Puti itlog."

Puti itlog.

So hilarious when taken or imagined literally. But also, so crude and appropriate.

Camille was being like that now.

Someone so shit-scared that their balls would go deathly pale in fright.

What a wuss.

Cienne picked up the phone and braced herself.

"Hello, Cruz's residence," Cienne greeted formally.

Camille, though younger than Cienne, was the taller of the two. She had her head bent attentively near Cienne and the receiver.

The voice at the other end responded. It was fuzzy, crackling, so unlike the clarity of local calls.

"Hello?" this fuzzy, crackling voice at the other end said. "Hello? Hello? Hello?"

"Hello?" Cienne echoed back into the mouthpiece, confused.

"Ah, Inday Cha?"

"No, this is Cienne. Ate Cha's out tonight."

"Oh, isa sa mga kambal!" the voice said excitedly. "Hello! Si Tita Moira mo ito. Kamusta kayo diyan?"

The barrage of Tagalog hit Cienne like a huge wave. She was so, so not prepared for this. Tita Moira. This was their mother's older sister.

"Ah Tita Moira! Hello po! Ummm. We're all fine here, thanks."

"That's wonderful to hear," Tita Moira said. Tita Moira sounded cheerful enough, but even through the crackly fuzz of the soundwaves and the miles apart, Cienne had a feeling that this cheerfulness was blanketing something else.

"How are you all doing there, Tita?"

"Ayos naman kami dito..." she started. "Kaso..."

The line was silent for a second or two before Tita Moira sighed into the phone.

"Actually, I hate to be the bearer of bad news pero Cienne, nasa hospital si Lola Carlotta mo ngayon."

"Oh," Cienne could only say. People told her that she had singkit eyes. But she swore that moment that they were the most "unsingkit" ever, widening to the size of nickels or even quarters.

Camille, upon seeing the shock on Cienne's face, mouthed, "what's going on?"

But Cienne didn't notice her twin sister who was begging for an update. Serves her right for not picking up the phone and having Cienne take this call and the responsibility that came with taking part in this difficult conversation.