Chapter IX: Master of the House
Summer unfolds like a lazy lizard basking on the cracked pavements of Hermosa. There is no school, no daily bells, no mandatory uniforms. Just the buzz of cicadas, the distant cough of tricycles, and the sun grilling everything alive. It's the summer before fourth year for Meric and Belarmino, but without mobile phones or text messages, the promise of secret glances and scribbled notes is left hanging in the air like laundry with no wind.
They don't see each other that whole summer.
But when the school year begins, the halls of Hermosa School of Arts and Trades become a quiet theater of glances. In between lectures and chalkboard squeals, Belarmino and Meric exchange the same subtle nods, a flicker in their eyes saying I remember. There are no words. No touching. Just the rare moments when they clean the classroom and they happen to be the only ones left.
Meric at one end, holding a broom, staring at a cracked poster of the Periodic Table. Belarmino at the other, sweeping beneath the chairs. Their eyes meet. No one says anything. But somehow, everything is said.
At home, no one suspects anything. Not Rico, who is busy ferrying passengers in his tricycle. Not Elric or Jonn, who are more interested in ice candy and cartoons. Not even Mercy, who is neck-deep in cooking another pot of Miki at the RQ Store.
Speaking of the RQ Store, it is bustling again.
Rush hour feels like a typhoon of customers ordering pancit, bihon, banana que, and lunch. Others buying detergent, and asking for ice-cold soda. Mercy wipes her forehead with her apron, sits at the corner stool, and exhales.
She gazes past the curtain, thinking, "Kasano ngata met ni Nanang tattan? (How is mom right now)? What might she be doing?"
Back in Brgy. Banggai, at the old brick house, Tory finishes folding laundry. She limps slightly—an old injury, or maybe just the weight of her years. She sits in the sala, surrounded by mirrors that reflect the old age she never dared admit. The La Purisima statue stands once more in her bedroom, watching her like a quiet guardian.
She picks up a frame. A photo of Melo. She traces the glass.
"Melo, it's been a year now since you left this world," she whispers, "you left too soon."
She can no longer visit Hermosa. Too many memories. Too many ghosts. And despite the mysterious illness beginning to eat at her bones, she continues doing chores.
Sometimes, Rogie visits with gossip. Sometimes Junior shows up, humming some 80s love song and asking if there's leftover cassava cake. He is now known as Carmelo Madrigal, or so as he states that he is from the adoptive family of the Madrigals in Maynilaan.
But when the house falls silent again, Tory stares at the old family photo. Restituto and Escolastica—both long gone. Her grandchildren from them never grew under her roof, and both passed away even when their children was still little.
She sometimes crosses the highway to visit the Pimentals. She says she just wants to stretch her legs and see her cousin. But really, she just doesn't want to be alone.
Time hurries fast, then 1999 comes.
And Tory weakens, her health had decreased.
One Sunday, she lays in bed, staring at La Purisima Concepcion. The statue is dusted, dressed in a blue veil. Her eyes do not blink.
Tory whispers, "When I die, what will happen to them? Please, take care of them."
Her eyes close.
She breathes her last.
Junior rides a bus to Hermosa. His face is pale. His hands shake slightly as he reaches Mercy's store.
"Mercy," he says.
She looks up from the counter.
"It's Nanang... she's gone."
Rico lowers his head. Meric and her brothers listen quietly.
The family packs up and returns to Brgy. Banggai. The old house smells like lavender soap and faint sadness. In the sala, Tory lies in a white coffin, surrounded by candles. Her hands are folded over her rosary.
Meric gazes at her grandmother's peaceful face.
And suddenly, a memory returns.
A flashback of something that have shown a different side of Tory.
Young Meric and her cousin Jing are playing in the fields, their feet coated in dust. Tory claps her hands from the laundry area.
"Meric! Jing! Umay kay' man ditoy (Please come here). Help me with the washing."
There are no machines back then. Just a large Caramba, a Burnay, and wooden paddles. The kids grumble but obey. As they lift one Caramba together—
Jing shrieks and Meric drops the jar.
Out of the blues, it turns out there's a snake. Thick and black, with a tail shaped like a scythe, slithers toward them.
Tory doesn't flinch.
She grabs a large rock and charges.
With fury in her voice: "Sika ti gapu ti nagbasolan da Adan ken Eva!! (You were the cause why Adam and Eve sinned!!). Begone, devil! Begone! Get away from my family!"
The snake doesn't stand a chance. And after a lot of beating, the snake is dead, looking like a grounded kutsay that is about to be applied to a forehead with a nasty bump.
The flashback then fades.
At the wake, after a while, Jing arrives. Older now. Wiser and still with that spark in her eyes.
She and Meric hug. Tight. The kind of hug that squeezes out tears.
A week later, the funeral begins. At the funeral, the entire family and relatives walks to Guardino Parish Church. White lace, black umbrellas, and muted sobs accompany the procession.
With the final blessing, they descend the hill, cross the highway, and climb the road to the cemetery.
Tory is buried beside Melo.
Don and Doña. Now side by side.
As the tomb closes, Meric whispers, "Natured talaga ni Lelang. (Grandma was really courageous.)"
"Best grandma we all had," Jing adds.
"You know," Mercy says, tears glinting in her eyes, "we couldn't have been so tough if not because of your Lelang Tory."
Junior, holding the rosary that Tory held when she was still laid during her wake at the house. He then breaks the cross of the rosary, as a tradition he'd started during funerals or if someone is dead. Creepy, but no one knows why.
The house at Brgy. Banggai stands empty.
Then many days later, Junior moves in, and changes his name from Carmelo Madrigal back to Carmelo Cortesa Jr., as he takes custody now of the house.
But order becomes chaos. The once-pristine house turns into a battlefield. Furniture gets sold. Appliances disappear. Capiz windows crack. Curtains sag. Plates gather dust. Even Junior's love for flair doesn't save the decay.
The house will never be the same.
Back in Hermosa, Mercy fries lumpia while yelling at a supplier over the phone. The RQ Store remains a community staple, but Mercy is tired. Her back aches. Her hands have more callouses than smooth skin.
One afternoon, a woman about her age sits down with her.
"You should come join us at the Mansion at Amianance," she says, handing Mercy a flyer.
A group. Devotees of Ina Poonbato. It's being led by the matriarch of a known family beside the Metropolitan Cathedral. Apparently, the matriarch had a replica of Ina Poonbato made for the mansion through the devotion of Ina Poon bato. They Hermano the image, and let the Hermosa Cathedral borrow it during Novenas and even on special occasions like Marian Feasts.
Mercy goes.
Every weekend, she joins the congregation. They sing, pray, hold candles. She walks barefoot behind the carrozza of Ina Poonbato during processions.
And though she finds solace there, her heart never forgets the one she first trusted.
The Our Lady of Charity.
The journey continues.
Faith, after all, is the only thing that hasn't broken yet.