A woman emerged from inside the house. She was small, at least a full head shorter than Kira. She wore a bright red apron and a tiny frown, but she immediately beamed when she saw Santi, even more (if that was possible) when she saw Kira.
“Twenty years,” she scolded, waving a wooden spoon at them. “Twenty years you haven’t come here, and all the advance notice I get is atextat 6 a.m.!”
“Sorry na, Tita Ria,” Santi said, giving his aunt a kiss on the cheek. That was when Kira saw the resemblance. Santi and his aunt shared the same eyes, the same little frown when they were unhappy about something. “You know I’ve been—”
“Busy? You’re swerte I was here. I was about to follow your Tito Johnny to Manila. Let me see your face properly, the hospital lights were too glaring,” she said, pressing her hands, wooden spoon and all, to her much taller nephew’s face, studying the lines and planes on it. And almost like there was a scar on it, she tutted her lips and shook her head. “Tell me. What happened?”
Kira saw Santi flinch, and suddenly, Kira knew why they had come here. Had known somehow that even this, a trip to the beach, was related to his grandfather. Because it was always going to be, wasn’t it? His moving to Lipa, their meeting at the store, his decisions. They all tied back to this family, the family that couldn’t seem to figure out how to love each other. Kira was tired of it, and she was barely involved.
“This is Kira Luz, my girlfriend,” Santi said, pulling Kira from her thoughts, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and she wanted to hug him and tell him that it was going to be okay.
“Ah!” Tita Ria exclaimed, beckoning Kira over. “The other place you needed to be, no? Let me take a look at you, hija. So pretty! And wow, your boobs are amazing.”
“Um...” Kira said, feeling the urge to cover her chest as Santi blushed.
“Tita!”
“What! They are! I’m sure you knew that.” Tita Ria laughed, waving a hand as she turned toward the house. “I’m Ria Marbella. I’m sure Anton has told you nothing about me.”
“He’s mentioned you,” Kira said, glancing at Santi, who had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “He also knows I like surprises?”
“You’re sweet, but he’s dense,” Tita Ria laughed. “I’m his runaway Tita, the one who stole the family beach house. Anton called and said he wanted you to experience the beach.” Kira was about to comment that Santi hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about the whole thing, when Tita Ria turned to her nephew. “Get your stuff. I’m putting you both in the big bedroom on the third floor, you know which one, Anton. I hope you’re hungry, I have enough Vigan longganisa for a family of six.”
“Six?”
“This is what happens when I don’t get advance notice!” Tita Ria exclaimed, shaking her head. “Now go. We’ll eat on the patio. Just like old times.”
A weird look crossed Santi’s face when his aunt said that, and they were left to their own devices. Through the open doorway, Kira could hear the soothing sounds of the waves, could smell that salt in the air. Her skin prickled, and it just knew. The water was a lot closer than she thought.
“She’s your tita?” Kira asked him, watching as Tita Ria went back inside the house, speaking to the staff. “Like your tita-tita, or a parent’s friend tita?”
“She’s my real tita.” Anton chuckled, but the mirth didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ve been texting. She married Johnny Marbelle three years ago. It was in the news yata.”
Kira vaguely recalled seeing something about the head of the Marbella Luxury group marrying one of the Carlton Hotels daughters, but there were so many rich families in the Philippines she hardly kept track.
“Anyway, she’s my tita. Come here,” Anton said, taking her hand. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
They walked through the house, past the sunlit sunken living room that actually had a fireplace (in a tropical country?), past the open-plan dining area decked in more antiques and houseplants than Kira could count, Sanso prints in wooden frames, andwhoa, was that an Edades painting? That was definitely a Magsaysay-Ho. No wonder Santi had such excellent taste. This beach house was practically brimming with it.
But Santi walked them past all of that, to a set of huge sliding glass doors, which he pried open.
They stepped out on the patio made of red clay tiles, shaded with calachuchi trees, yellow bell flowers, gumamela and more plants than she could name. All of that greenery was just to frame the fact that the ocean was not more than ten feet away. She could feel the salt in her skin, taste it on her tongue. It was breathtaking. Philippine beaches always were, and gave Kira a sense of being safe. Home.
And the look on Santi’s face let her know that he felt much the same way.
“Wow,” she said as they left their shoes on the patio and walked out together, closer to the ocean, where the waves lapped at their feet as if in greeting. The sun was out, but it wasn’t too bright. The December sea breeze whipped at them both. “Your tita’s house is incredible.”
“This used to be the family’s beach house,” Santi explained. “We came here almost every weekend, all of us, when I was younger. Lolo used to bring out a plastic chair right here. The closer to the water, the better,” Santi explained, smiling fondly, taking her hand as they walked along the shore. “Of course his chair always sank when he sat on it. He said he wanted to watch me and Miro, but he kept getting knocked over. It was hilarious. I think he did it on purpose, too.”
Then he pointed to the tall rock formation on their right, one that instantly made the beach private.
“Lolo and I used to explore that area beyond the rock, you can walk around it to get to a little cave at low tide,” Santi told her. The fondness in his voice was almost painful to hear. It was hard to picture that the old man mocking his grandchild in the Villa lobby was the same man whom Santi was describing.
“And the family would always eat on the patio,” Santi explained. “It was always too nice outside to eat inside. Mom would play something on the stereo, and Miro and Tita Ria would sing while my parents danced. We always had marshmallows and hot dogs on sticks for the bonfire. And Tita Ria assigned us the best room. It used to be mine when we stayed here. It has the best view of the ocean.”
“Your tita said it’s been twenty years,” Kira noted as they walked toward a lone mangrove tree on the beach, where there was a little swing attached to a branch. Kira sat on the swing while Santi idly pushed the rope. “What did she mean?”
“Tita Ria and Lolo got into a fight about...something I don’t remember, twenty years ago. I know she asked for the beach house, and they never spoke again. We were forbidden from coming up here, or speaking to her. I don’t think she’s spoken to my father since then, either.”
