Chapter XXIV: Bitter-sweet
It is a quiet afternoon in Caluipat. The sun filters lazily through the glass jalousie windows, and the small electric fan hums steadily in the corner of the sala at the large wooden column between the dining and the sala.
Mercy sits on the jade sofa, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, holding a thin yet yellowish-leather Ilocano book: Ti Librok dagiti Estoria iti Biblia (My Book of the Stories of the Bible). It was once owned by none other than Tory, where Tory gave it to Jonn. Since Jonn has put it away, Mercy uncovers it. The faded cover speaks of years of being opened, read, and re-read.
At her side, little Mark sits cross-legged, eagerly waiting.
"Okay, apo," Mercy says, adjusting her glasses. "Today, we read about... ah! Exodu, Ti Panagballasiw iti Nalabaga a Baybay. (Exodus: The Crossing of the Red Sea.)"
Mark's eyes widen. "Mang, is this the one with Moses and the walls of water?"
"Yes. That's the one."
She clears her throat and begins reading aloud, her Ilocano steady, her voice carrying the weight of a story told for generations.
But when her eyes rest on the name Moses, she freezes. A shiver of memory runs through her.
Moses.
Not just the prophet in the Bible. But her half-brother.
Then she flashbacks to a memory.
It was some years back. Together with Rico, Meric, and little Mark, Mercy had traveled to Bayubay Sur, Tuanong.
Their blue family tricycle coughed and sputtered its way through dusty roads, carrying them like a tin can on wheels.
When they arrived at the sitio, Mercy stepped down, brushing off her skirt. She scanned the area, expecting familiar faces.
And then—an old man emerged from a wooden house. His steps were slow, but his face...
Mercy gasped. For a second, she thought it was Junior or Rogie, but no.
The man smiled faintly, and in that moment Mercy's eyes filled with tears.
"Kabsat! Tatta man pay umay kay agpasyar ditoy! (Little Sister! How unexpected of your visit here!)
She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him.
"Moses!"
Her half-brother. The one she had not seen in years. His hair was gray, his body thinner, but his embrace was strong.
Mark tugged at her skirt, whispering, "Mang, is he Moses like in the Bible?"
Mercy laughed through tears. "No, apok. This one is my brother. Say hello to your Lolo Moses."
They sat and talked for hours. Stories spilled out, laughter echoed. For Mercy, it felt like crossing a sea of her own—a reunion after decades apart.
Now, as she stares at the printed name in the Bible, Mercy wonders. How is he now? Still strong? Still smiling?
Mark tugs her arm. "Mang? Why did you stop?"
She blinks, smiles, and pats his head. "Nothing, apo. Let's continue." She resumes reading, the story of Moses leading the Israelites through parted waters flowing back into her voice.
But not everything in Caluipat is as serene as Bible stories.
Rico, Mercy's husband, spends most of his days tinkering with their old BMX and Trinx bikes. His hands are always greasy, his back bent under the midday sun.
Yet, he feels a gnawing weight inside him. He has no job, no steady income. He sees Ben—Meric's husband—working hard, providing, being praised.
Ben is loving, responsible, and reliable. He fixes what is broken, carries the heavy loads, and still comes home with money for the household.
Rico can't help but feel overshadowed.
And one day, it boils over.
Mercy is away in Hermosa, leaving the house in the hands of Rico, Ben, Meric, and Mark.
Ben comes home late, carrying supplies. Rico sits outside, arms crossed.
"You think you're the man of this house, huh?" Rico mutters.
Ben blinks. "Pang? I'm just doing what needs to be done."
"Ayy Latta met, sika, sika, sika! (Always you, you, you!) Acting like I can't provide for my own family!"
Meric rushes between them. "Stop it, both of you!"
But the words do nothing. Rico's voice rises, Ben's temper flares. They clash, words sharp, the air heavy.
In the end, Rico's authority as elder prevails although he is the lazy father. Ben lowers his head, biting his lip.
Meric sighs. "Ayy Apo, (Oh God,) Fine. Then we'll leave."
And so, with Mark clutching his school bag, the small family walks away. They move to Saddeg, Hermosa, settling inside Roselyn's house.
In Saddeg, mornings are never peaceful for Mark. His paternal grandmother, Magdalena or simply called as Baket Dalen, spends every dawn scolding one of his cousins.
"Agriing kan ket maladaw ka manen. Ken agisimpa ka met ah ti pagiddaam! Awan met langenen ti ammom nga aramidenen, Yoshi!" (Wake up now or else you'll be late. And please organize your bed! You don't know how to do anything anymore, Yoshi!)
Every day, her voice rattles the house like an alarm clock. Mark plugs his ears with his pillow, groaning. "Nanang, please, I'm still sleepy...make it stop..."
Ben continues his routine, going to work at a government facility for engineers. Meric, meanwhile, makes daily trips back to Caluipat to visit Mercy.
One afternoon, Mercy sits in her Monoblock chair, staring at her toenails with disapproval.
"Hmm. No one in this barangay can do it properly," she mutters. "I only trust one person."
She picks up the phone and dials.
Minutes later, Meric arrives, slightly out of breath.
"Mang, You called me... for pedicure?" she asks.
"Yes. Who else? You're the best pedicurist I know."
Meric laughs, shaking her head. Still, she kneels down and carefully works, while Mercy sighs in satisfaction. "Ah, see? Perfect. You really inherited my standards."
With Meric away most days and Ben in Saddeg, the Bensmert Store is left in the hands of Mercy and Rico.
They manage well enough. Rico handles the heavier sacks of rice, while Mercy tends the customers, her quick tongue ensuring no one dares to haggle too low.
Sometimes, when Meric attends reunions or goes out with Ben, Mark is left in Caluipat.
Mercy makes him sleep on the bamboo bed, humming him old Ilocano lullabies. Other times, Rico takes him outside, showing him how to hammer nails, tighten bolts, or make improvised toys from scrap wood.
Life flows on, though the tension between Rico and Ben lingers like smoke after a fire.
Sometimes, Mercy feels the urge to visit the Lord.
"Ric," she says to Rico, "let's go to Santo Cristo Chapel."
Rico starts the old tricycle, its engine coughing like a sick man, and off they go. Other times, they ride further, straight to Hermosa Cathedral.
These trips soothe Mercy's spirit, reminding her of faith stronger than family quarrels.
Meanwhile, in Pantay Este, things are harder. Aldric and Adrion fall ill with dengue. Their frail bodies require hospital visits almost every month.
Elric and his wife spend long nights in worry, pacing hospital hallways, praying feverishly. The disease becomes a recurring shadow over their household.
Back in Caluipat, one afternoon, Mercy sits glued to the TV. She is watching Ryzza's program on GMA7.
Onscreen, someone demonstrates making pastillas.
Her eyes light up. "Ay, naggimasen! Nagsimple met ngayam agaramid! (Oh, how delicious! It's only simple how to make!) I must tell Meric!"
As if on cue, Meric arrives for a visit. Mercy nearly drags her in. "Mayyang! You must try making this. Pastillas! Look, it's simple!"
Meric raises an eyebrow but listens carefully. She is intrigued.
Back in Saddeg, Meric gathers milk, sugar, and begins experimenting. The first batch comes out moist, sticky, and almost collapsing in her hands.
Mark giggles. "It looks like... clay."
But Meric doesn't give up. Each day, she tries again. Stirring longer, drying better, shaping carefully.
And slowly, the pastillas evolve. From sticky lumps to smooth, firm little balls of sweetness.
One day, she brings a box back to Caluipat.
Mercy bites into one. Her eyes widen instantly.
"Meric! This... this is perfect. Nagsam-it! (It's so sweet!) Soft, bursting with flavor. Mayyang, make more!"
Meric beams with pride.
Soon, the pastillas appear at the Bensmert Store. Customers love them. Word spreads fast. Kids come with coins in their palms, buying them by twos and threes.
Meric also brings boxes to Hermosa Central School, where she teaches. They sell well—until she discovers a competitor.
A woman named Tin-Tin also sells pastillas, and her sweets are equally popular. Students joke, "Pastillas war!"
Still, Meric persists. Her mother's encouragement fuels her.
Then one day, a supermarket owner happens to try her pastillas. He is impressed. "How many boxes can you supply weekly? I want to sell these in my store."
Meric nearly drops the tray. "W-Weekly? Boxes?"
She rushes home to tell Mercy, who smiles knowingly.
"See, Mayyang? Inside the school, it is small. Compete if you want, but remember—school is just here." She spreads her arms. "But the supermarket? That is the world. Through it, one day, your pastillas will reach the far ends of the earth."
Meric nods, determination burning in her chest.
And just like that, what began as a TV recipe turns into a family enterprise—proof that sweetness, when nurtured, can rise even from the simplest kitchens of Caluipat.
In the end, the family's story is still one of contrasts—conflicts and reconciliations, bitterness and sweetness.
Rico and Ben may clash, but Mercy's laughter over pedicures, Mark's wonder at Bible stories, and Meric's new venture in pastillas remind them: family, like sugar and milk, must be mixed, kneaded, and shaped carefully.
Only then can it become something worth sharing with the world.
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and then Add to home screen.