Chapter VII: Movers
It's a hot Tuesday afternoon in Calle Crisostomo at the Favis House. The fan is barely enough to push the air around the room, and Mercy sits near the open window, barred with wooden bars, wiping sweat from her neck with an Abel handkerchief. Her daughter, Meric, is playing with her brother Elric on the floor, rolling around a wooden car that has somehow lost its wheels but not its soul.
Mercy stares at Meric, and a shadow crosses her face.
She remembers a lost memory that haunts her to that very day. That would be the Marinduque Elves.
That day, years ago, when she was still a teenager. Lost in the woods on the island of Marinduque, who would just accompany Al on his wedding, but got lost...abducted? The strange voices, the smell of camphor and crushed leaves, and the creatures—beautiful, eerie, otherworldly. Their curse echoes in her memory:
"You shall have children, but one daughter shall never see the light beyond her first year."
She shakes the thought out of her head, but it lingers like the humid air in the room.
"Cut it off," she mutters.
Moments later, she walks into a barbershop at the market at Quezon Boulevard. The barber, confused but willing, snips away. Mercy walks out with short hair, the kind that makes her feel lighter, maybe even defiant. Maybe the curse won't recognize her anymore.
Meanwhile, Melo, ever the mysterious family man with the don-like swagger, has discovered a new hobby: road trips. With his pristine gray jeep shining like a lobster and Tilapia newly caught from the Lagben and Mestizo Rivers, he takes his grandchildren Meric and Elric, and their cousin Jing (Restituto's daughter), up to the northern province, sometimes with the whole family, and sometimes his other grandchildren.
They buy some snacks in every town they stop in. They compare pancit recipes from roadside carinderias. And in one memorable moment, Melo teaches them how to say "Diesel lang, boss," with confidence at gas stations.
Mercy watches all this unfold from their porch, heart swelling with joy. Who would have thought her strict, uptight father would end up bonding with the kids over siopao and dashboard dancing?
But peace, as always, is temporary.
Tinang, has started forgetting things and gets things messed up or confused.
"Where's the Banga (clay pot)? I need the Banga right now to cook the rice." she demands, while holding the Banga.
"Conching is out of town buying groceries for God's sake."
She gets snarky too.
"Maybe if you cleaned like your mother taught you, Mercy, this house wouldn't smell like fish guts or a Suka nga Bennal (Sugarcane Vinegar) and Bagoong (fish sauce)!"
Mercy, tired and hot, shoots back, "Maybe if you cooked like you remembered how, we wouldn't be eating burnt eggs! These eggs now look like a burnt longganisa or a crumpled empanada."
Things escalate very quickly sometimes, that Rico sometimes care or not when he's in the house. The tension simmers until one day, Mercy has enough.
They pack their things. Rico, Mercy, Meric, and Elric move to Brgy. Caluipat, Pardas, to Tinang's small ancestral house. It's quiet, far, and inconvenient. But it's peace.
Well, until the kids start getting late to school.
DWCH Elementary isn't built for children coming in from another town, per say that the barangay is almost 3 kilometers from DWCH. The tricycle is barely fast enough, and the mornings turn into marathons of panic and missing socks.
Then, while she looks at Rico riding the tricycle taking off,
"Hmm, the tricycle can't suffice our financial situation, but it need some help. Especially when Rico gets lazy to drive and get passengers all over the town.", Mercy thinks to herself.
Due to this financial problem, they cannot afford anymore to go to DWCH since it's a private school, so the siblings go to a closer school, but still in Hermosa, the Hermosa Central School at Brgy IX, Hermosa.
Mercy, seeing the financial pinch, eventually opens a sari-sari store.
It starts small: sachets of shampoo, packs of Skyflakes, barkillos, lumpia, and a few bottles of soda.
But she learns fast: her neighbors like to borrow.
"Agbayad kantu ah? (Please pay soon, ok?)" they say. And next week never comes.
Some would say, "Tonnu bigat tun (I'll give it tomorrow), madam". And other would say, "Oh no, I just lack 1 peso, can I give it to you tomorrow?"
One day, Mercy checks her little notebook and realizes the store is sinking. Not literally like the tallest bell tower in the Philippines, but financially. And the biggest sinkhole?
The Quebrals.
"They owe me 500 pesos!" she yells. 500 pesos may seem small today, but back then, it's a big deal like checking out 10,000 pesos.
Mr. Quebral sometimes go to the house to drink, or eat. Sometimes the cheeky wife tags along too.
One day, when he is inside the house, eating some chaps, and drinking Tapuey (Rice Wine), Rico, normally lazy, asks him about the debt.
"Please, pay the debt. We are plundered in bankruptcy of the store, man." Rico says.
Mr. Quebral puts down the glass of Tapuey, half-drunk, and pulls a gun out from behind his belt.
"Putragis! Try asking again, Loco!" he growls.
Rico freezes for a while, then sprints away faster than his tricycle could ever go.
Court follows.
The case is clear. Rico and Mercy have proof. Tinang, even though she wasn't there, testifies, surprisingly sharp that day. Even the judge seems annoyed.
The Quebrals lose.
However, even after the hearing and a resolution or act for them to pay the debt to Mercy and Rico, they never pay.
"Put that in your trophy case of useless victories, muchos hypocritos." Rico mutters as they exit the courthouse.
A year passes.
Tinang calls from Hermosa, using an old telephone.
"Hello, Mercy. I miss Meric. That sweet girl. My beautiful and loving granddaughter."
Mercy is shocked. Is this... softness?
"I'm sorry," Tinang says.
Mercy decides it's time. Due to the chaotic and wild nature of Brgy. Caluipat that time, full of drunkards, and rough-housing neighbors, they really don't like the environment anymore.
They return to Hermosa at the Favis House. Tinang now lives in a small bungalow she bought at Calle Gen. Antonio which is just one block away from the Favis House and it's just walking distance. It smells of liniment and mangoes. Tinang even lets Mercy arrange the furniture, while Rico is just seating on the furniture, doing nothing.
The store at Brgy. Caluipat is closed. But Mercy, undeterred, finds new opportunity.
At the Favis House, she pitches an idea.
"Can I open a store on the ground floor?"
The Favis family, always cheerful, agrees.
"Of course, Mercy! As long as you sell yema and candies."
RQ Store is born.
It thrives. No more credit. No more notebooks. Mercy is strict. The sari-sari war veteran is now a full general.
Many years follow, and the year is 1986.
Mercy gives birth to Mary Jane.
A girl.
For a year, Mary Jane fills the house with laughter. Her cry sounds like a bird, her giggle like wind chimes.
Then, just after her first birthday, she falls ill and gets a fever. It's quick. Too quick, and too late.
Mercy is devastated.
Mary Jane is buried at Pampantok, the Hermosa Chinese Cemetery.
Tory and Melo arrive with candles and flowers. As they stand by the small white tomb, they remember the elves. The old curse.
"One daughter shall never see the light beyond her first year."
They don't say anything. But they hold Mercy tighter than they ever have. They comfort her of her loss.
Three years pass and it's 1990.
Mercy gives birth to Jonn. A healthy baby boy with lungs like thunder.
Peace returns.
Until the earth decides to remind them of its own power.
July 16, and it is an ordinary morning.
Meric is at Hermosa Central School, holding a tiny shovel. It's planting day. She's more excited about getting her shoes dirty than planting anything.
Elric is at DWCH, now in highschool, focused on his notebook doodles instead of class.
Rico is driving his tricycle, turning right from Calle Gov. A. Reyes to Calle Gen. Antonio, humming an off-key version of Let It Be, a Beatles song.
Mercy is at home, bouncing baby Jonn in her arms, humming something motherly and sweet.
And then—
The ground ripples.
Like jelly.
Like water with weight.
It isn't shaking, it's flowing. Undulating.
Mercy grabs the doorframe. However, Jonn doesn't scream or cry. But bottles fall from the shelf. The Cube TV slides an inch off the table.
At their respective schools, Meric and Elric sit on the ground, stunned, unsure if the earth just sneezed or shouted.
Rico? He's still humming.
He notices the shaking but calmly brakes at the side of the road.
"Hmm. Earthquake. Okay."
He lights a cigarette. Shrugs.
When the tremor fades, the damage is minimal, but the fear lingers.
The whole family rushes home, checks on each other.
Tinang rushes to the store and hugs the kids, crying.
Tory and Melo drive in, wanted to check in if they are safe. They're worried but safe.
Everyone is accounted for.
They turn on the bulky cube TV, is the News reports that the earthquake shook all over the Northern Part of Luzon. Especially to the Cordilleras where it destroyed a grand hotel lobby and other hotels. Many have perished.
Mercy looks around the room: her children, her husband, her parents, her mother-in-law.
They survived the shaking. They survived the past. Maybe they can survive whatever comes next.
She walks to the RQ Store, opens the door, checks the shelves.
Nothing broken.
She smiles.
The curse hasn't won. Not yet.