NINA EVANGELISTA
Nina Evangelista graduated from Cornell University in 1997 with a B.A. in Psychology and Women's Studies. She spent the first seventeen years of her life in Manila, but now lives in the U.S. She works in a non-profit women's health clinic providing reproductive care for low-income patients. The three works that appear here are  actually excerpts from a larger work that Nina is completing.


A THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS

         There was a soft knock on Tin-tin's bedroom door before it creaked  open.

         "Tin-tin? Are you awake?"

         Tin-tin saw Rowie's face peering down at her.  "Yeah. What's the matter? Couldn't fall asleep again?"  The clock on the bedside table read 1:16 a.m.

         Rowie nodded.

         "Hop in."  Tin-tin scooted over to make room. Rowie climbed over  her. She liked  to lie sandwiched between Tin-tin and the wall.

          "What's the matter?"

         "I was scared."

         "What about this time?"

         Rowie was always worried about something. When she was younger, it used to be burglars or the house burning down. Last month she had seen a dead body  on her way to school-- some labor leader, kidnapped and murdered, she later  heard on the radio--and since then she had begun combing the newspapers or  more bad news. Her worries had gotten so sophisticated that Tin-tin was  finding it harder to calm her down enough so that they could both fall  asleep at night. Last week it had been global warming, and two nights ago it  was the possibility of a nuclear war.

         "The communists," Rowie answered, "What if they come here, to  Manila?"

         Tin-tin sighed. "Quit thinking about the communists. They're not worth staying up all night for."

         "But they'd kill us if they came, wouldn't they? Insurgencies like to kill people, especially rich people."

         "I think you mean insurgents, Rowie. Insurgents are the people who  are part of  insurgencies. Insurgencies themselves don't do any killing."  Tin-tin  frowned into the darkness. "Where did you learn that word, anyway?"

         "They keep saying it in the news, so I thought I should look it up."

         "Oh. Well, don't worry. The communists aren't going to get us."

         "How do you know?" Rowie asked.

         "Because they've lost a lot of their backing ever since the Marcoses  left."

         Rowie thought about that for a while before saying, "What about the  Muslims? It said in the newspaper today that they've been getting money to buy guns and  bombs from the Arabs."

         "Rowie, dont worry about any rebels taking over the country. We'd  hear about it before they got to Manila, and we'd all run away to another country if it  looked like it was going to be a serious problem."  Tin-tin knew this because a few years  ago, at the height of the Marcos dictatorship, she had overheard their parents  discussing whether or  not things were bad enough for them to flee the country, as some of their  friends had. Tin-tin was careful not to mention this to Rowie.

         "But where would we go?"

         "I don't know. America, most likely. Dad's already got some businesses there, so they'd let us stay, especially if it was the communists that took over.  Americans don't like communists."

         "Oh."  Rowie was quiet for a while. "But what about the people who  couldn't leave? Would they all be killed?"

         Tin-tin hesitated.  "Some of them, maybe. Only those that would make trouble. Not everybody though."   Tin-tin could feel Rowie rocking her leg back and  forth beside her. Tin-tin had grown used to the motion her sister used to soothe herself  to sleep.

         "Tell me a story,"  Rowie said.

         "Okay."  Tin-tin was  relieved to be able to change the subject. She  put her arm under Rowie's neck and held her close. "What story would you like to hear?"

         "Tell me the story about the swimming pool."  It was a story Rowie  had requested many times before.

          "A couple of weeks before my seventh birthday, which was oh, about  two months  before you were born, Mom and Dad asked me what I wanted for a birthday present.  I  already had all the latest toys, so I had to think for a bit before giving them an answer. At  dinner that evening, I told them, 'I want a swimming pool.'

          "Mom hesitated. 'You already have a swimming pool, Tin-tin.' She  was talking about the inflatable children's pool we'd had for years, with the red and  blue kites on its white vinyl surface.

          "'No,' I said, 'I want a real swimming pool, the kind grown-ups  swim in. In the garden, by the patio.'"

         "'I don't know about that.' Mom looked over at Dad. She was hoping  he would say no. Even then Mom was afraid of water. You've seen her as she steps into the pool,  her feet white and slender as she tests its temperature. The skin on her feet is so thin that  you can see the veins underneath, branching out like a blue spiderweb. She swims with a  kickboard, always at the very edge of the pool, so she can grab on to the  rim in case she  loses her grip on the board. Those few times that she actually puts her face  in the water,  she jerks it up right away, blinking furiously and gulping for air.

         "I watched Dad closely. He rubbed his chin the way he does when he's  thinking about money. 'Actually, it might be a good idea,' he said to Mom,  'it would certainly improve the property value.'

         "When he said that, I knew I had won.  'It's going to take some  time, Tin-tin,' Dad warned me, 'It will probably not be ready in time for your birthday. You're going to have to be patient.'

         "I was too happy at the thought of having my very own swimming pool  to care when it would be built. And sure enough, it wasn't built before my birthday,  or anytime near it, even though Dad called a contractor the very morning after he  agreed to have it  built for me. Mom and Dad argued about what shape the pool should be, and how big,  and what to do with the ylang-ylang tree that Mom loved. It used to grow near the center  of the yard, and its roots stretched out underneath the ground to where the  pool was  supposed to be. Mom refused to have it destroyed, so the workers had to  replant it in the  corner of the garden where it is today. Then Mom suggested that we just  re-landscape the entire yard, and Dad said fine.  I think he was just sick of fighting with her. That made  the construction take even more time, but I was afraid they would change  their minds if I  complained. Mom went into labor the day the first layer of concrete in the  new pool had  dried.

         "Mom and Dad had promised me that I would get to name the new baby  when it  came. When I learned that you were a girl, I wanted to name you Briar Rose since I had  just seen the Disney version of Sleeping Beauty.

         "'What about just Rose, Tin-tin?'  Dad asked me, 'Even the good  fairies called  Sleeping Beauty Rose for short.'

         "I said I thought that would be okay, but Mom didn't like that name  either. When I visited you at the hospital nursery, through the viewing  window I saw taped onto your crib a card that said, Rowena Ongpin. When I  asked her about it in her hospital room, Mom told me that Rowena was a close enough name to Rose. I didn't really think so, but I had to admit that it  was a better name for you. When I got home from the hospital, I went out  into the yard to take a look at the swimming pool. It was kidney shaped and  about five feet deep. The only thing left to be done was for the tiles to be  cemented in a diamond pattern on the floor and walls.

         "The tiles were laying around inside the pool. I climbed into the  pool and took the tiles two at a time. Slowly, because I was afraid of  dropping and breaking them, I laid the all the black ones out to spell  'Rowie' on the pool floor. The workers didn't know what to do because Dad  had told them to do it in the diamond pattern, and I refused to let them  move the tiles their way. Together, the workers and I waited for Dad to come  home.

         "When Dad saw what I had done, he told the workers, 'Leave it that  way, if that's how she wants it.

         "So, in the end, the tiles were put into the pool the way I wanted,  and I got to name you after all. And that is why your name, the name that I gave you, is written on the bottom of our swimming pool."

         "And that's also why the ylang-ylang tree is in the corner of the  garden, not in the middle," Rowie reminded her.

         "That's right." Tin-tin smiled.  She kissed the top of her sister's  head. Her hair  smelled faintly of shampoo.

         "Tin-tin," Rowie asked, "will you always love me?"

         "Yes." She squeezed Rowie's hand and added lightly, "You're my  favorite sister."

         Rowie giggled. "I'm your only sister!"

         Tin-tin nodded.  "Do you think you can fall asleep now?"

         "I think so."

         Tin-tin rolled over on her side to face the electric fan. Its blades  whirred softly, blowing cool air onto Tin-tin's face. Beside her, Rowie  rocked her leg slowly. After a while, the motion stopped. As Tin-tin fell asleep, she felt Rowie's body  curled tightly around hers, the side of Rowie's face pressing against her back, as though  listening for a heartbeat.
 
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