Buried in dishwater, Erika scrubbed hard on the cast-iron skillet that earlier contained beef caldereta. The grease showed no signs of letting go, and she wondered how impervious to dishwashing liquid the next dinnerware would be: the microwavable pans. But she didn’t mind. She was busy piecing together the muffled chatter of her sister’s future in-laws and her own parents from the adjacent living room. From the sink, she could hear bits such as the reception venue and when to schedule fittings for the entourage.
Erika was staring down at her calloused fingers when her eyes slowly trailed the creases on her ring finger. Its bareness glistened in the oily water. She choked back an incoming stream of tears. With a loud sigh, she continued scraping the remnants of burnt caldereta sauce around the pan’s rim.
“Where’s the CR—oh, darling!” Erika was startled. Craning her neck to see who it was, she saw Auntie Hilda, jaw dropping at the sight of her.
“Hello, Tita,” Erika managed to smile, “the CR is over there, and the switch is on the left.”
But instead of scurrying across the room to do her business, Auntie Hilda stretched her arms in a gesture of an embrace. Erika wiped her wet hands and obliged. ‘I-I’m sorry…I’m sorry, anak,” Auntie Hilda stuttered as a tear escaped her right eye.
“Shh…it’s okay, Tita. We’re family. Still a family,” Erika whispered, stroking Auntie Hilda’s grey hair gently as they hugged. Feeling a surge of emotions, she quickly let go of the embrace and resumed scrubbing the pan.
At that point, Erika’s sister, Joanna, came in with a stack of soiled dishes. She saw her future mother-in-law sniffling while her sister’s back was against the woman.
“I’ll excuse myself,” Auntie Hilda finally said, giving Erika a gentle tap on her back.
Joanna nodded, still hesitant about whether she should bring the dinnerware to the sink. Erika must have sensed the tension from behind her because she swung back to take the china from her sister.
“Let me. The leche flan’s in the fridge. I’ll bring in the saucers,” she said as she gently put down the dish stack on the countertop.
At this order, Joanna suddenly burst into tears. “Ate…”
But Erika hissed. “You go back in there and forget what you saw, understand? I don’t have time for your drama. Or anyone else’s.” Then she opened the cabinet to produce the saucers. “There you go, serve them dessert.”
Joanna wiped her tears with the back of her palm and said no more. She took the saucers and topped the stack with the leche flan encased in an oval-shaped aluminum dish. With one last glance at her Ate, she hurriedly went back to the living room.
Left alone, Erika clamped her mouth with her hand to stifle her cries. She felt like she could cry buckets of tears enough to wash the dishes in front of her. When Auntie Hilda came out of the bathroom, Erika scurried away to her room upstairs to hide. Never mind that her former flame was just sitting on the sofa, discussing the wedding that won’t be hers to celebrate.
“F**k you, Lorenz! T****a mo, that’s my sister!” Erika yelled.
She just returned from New Zealand, where she works as a farmer. Her plan that October was to surprise her parents with her unannounced, month-long vacation. It didn’t occur to her that she would be the one to be surprised.
“Erika, let me explain. It isn’t what you think,” Lorenz pleaded, guilt visible on his face.
Erika scanned the room. “When did it start? None of you bothered to tell me anything suspicious?” Then she charged angrily at Joanna and slapped her across her face.
“Erika!” Mang Antonio, her father, tried to interfere.
“You stay out of this, Pa! You let it happen anyway!” she shot back, gritting her teeth. “I was slaving away abroad, enduring homesickness, and that p******g LDR. Yet this is how you welcome me back? With a baby on the way?”
Erika’s palm stung from the impact of her slapping. With the same hand, she pulled her hair and screamed. A very long scream.
Meanwhile, Joanna rubbed both her reddened cheek and her bloated tummy, crying silently. Their youngest sibling, Junior, balled his fists but could not bring himself to punch Lorenz and avenge his Ate Erika.
“How could you all betray me? You,” Erika pointed her finger at sobbing Joanna, “You could’ve told me you wanted a boyfriend already, and I would’ve permitted you. It could’ve been anyone, Jo! What the f***?! Why does it have to be Lorenz?! Haven’t you got any shame? I practically raised you myself, both you and Junior, and this is how you pay me back?”
Then she confronted Lorenz, “I thought I was just waiting for you to propose! I left because I wanted to save enough for our wedding. Because you keep saying you haven’t saved yet for a decent house of our own. Come to think of it, now you’re gonna build it with Jo!”
From what Erika gathered later when she calmed down, Lorenz had been coming to their house since she left for New Zealand two years ago. Junior filled her in on the details, where one night, Lorenz joined a drinking session with Joanna’s classmates while their parents spent the weekend at their relatives’ house.
“They were both drunk, Ate,” Junior said regrettably, to which Erika responded with a bitter smile.
The following day after that eventful pamamanhikan, Erika packed her bags and booked a flight to Siargao. She intended to take her family to Boracay, but since she had been purposely left out of the wedding plans and the scandal itself, it would be awkward to get together while she was still stewing from the betrayal. Still, she instructed Junior to book the trip once their sister got hitched. “Think of it as my reward for taking care of Papa and Mama while I’m away. Don’t worry about Jo, I gifted her with a honeymoon trip.”
It is a wonder, not only to her family, but to Erika and her best friend Rita, how she was able to swallow everything after all the pain Lorenz had caused. “How could you give Jo the vacation you were planning to go to for your own anniversary?” Rita asked over FaceTime.
Gulping on Red Horse beer while sitting on the shore, Erika stared at her friend through the screen with glazed eyes. “You just get used to such things, I think.”
“How so?” Rita asked. She herself was drinking from a can of Heineken, thousands of miles away, to virtually keep her friend company. It was Rita who invited her to work in New Zealand, the one who convinced her that she could earn in a month what Erika had to earn in a year in BPO.
“Isipin mo, when we were still in college, I had to work part-time at Jollibee to support myself, Jo, and Junior. Sometimes, I want to blame Papa’s alcoholism for how we ended up like this. If only he hadn’t had a stroke, I wouldn’t have to pick the two-year course. I wouldn’t have to work as a call center agent or give up being with them to work in NZ,” she sighed before chugging her bottle.
“They were so used to you sacrificing everything,” Rita said thoughtfully. She looked at her friend, now watching the sunset while blowing her nose on a tissue. Rita knew better than to interrupt Erika’s thoughts.
“Have you viewed my email already?” Erika asked after a while.
“Which one?”
“The one with an attachment.”
“Wait, let me check first.”
When Rita clicked the email link, she smiled. “Are you ready for a permanent resident visa?”
“You want me to do a Haka?” Erika joked.
Then she lifted her bottle, tipping the top near the screen as if to toast with Rita. “Cheers.”
Written by Ariane May Uyarenza, this short story appeared in the January 2026 issue of the Philippines Graphic Reader, the literary magazine of the Philippines Graphic.
