by Fiona Cheong
I don't have anything to tell them about Auntie Coco and her sister," I said, pretending that was what your mother had meant with her question. "I can't tell them anything that would help them."
Not that I wasn't concerned about Auntie Coco, but I knew eventually she would realize her sister was all right. She would feel it.
Shakilah didn't ask anything else or say anymore after that. We did the rest of our cooking in silence, with the night outside like a black cloth moving over the grass. Once, I thought I heard a dog barking, and as we were setting the table, one of the neighbors' children shouted something up the road. That was when I checked Shakilah's face to see what her reaction was, but your mother's face was a closed book to me now, and I couldn't tell if she had even heard the shout.
Other than that, the night passed peacefully for us. (No, it didn't rain again, and Elizabeth Sandhu didn't stop by as she had on the previous night. Yes, she used to be Shakilah's favorite teacher at St. Agnes, but I'm quite sure there was no dirty business going on between them. Not Elizabeth. Don't go off on that wild goose chase. She had stopped by only for a brief visit, around nine o'clock. Yes, the police had left by then. No, no, there was nothing odd about Elizabeth's being in the neighborhood. She was simply visiting her in-laws on River Road.)
WHAT ELSE I I A F) I found in Shakilah's suitcase? A booklet with an American Indian man on the cover. He was carrying a spear and dancing on the grass, and the words Santa Fe Visitors Guide were strung out above his head. Two postcards, one showing a field of yellow wildflowers with purple mountains in the distance. The other showed an underground room, with a wooden ladder leading up to an open door in the ceiling, which seemed to be made of tree branches. Light from outside was falling into the room, throwing the shape of the door onto the wall behind the ladder.
And there was a third postcard, obviously local. On the front was an artist's rendition of the Malay Great Argus, which was the title printed underneath the picture. There were two beautifully painted argus pheasants, male and female, with the male in his glory. He was parading about and showing off his feathers while the female eyed him across the jungle clearing. The background showed a gauzy screen of pastel greens and blues, with the shapes of fallen tree trunks fading into the shadows. I took down for your sister the historical information given on the back of the postcard, so here it is: The male great argus pheasant exhibits one of the most spectacular courtship displays of the bird world. Their enormous secondaries and intricately patterned primary wing feathers are masterpieces of nature's elaborate design. The two central tail feathers will grow to a length of 4 feet in the male. Due to the large amount of tree cutting in Malaysia, the wild habitat so necessaryfor this species to survive is now being seriously threatened. Nothing about the female, naturally.
Yes, there was handwriting on the postcard. Of course it wasn't the same as the handwriting on the backs of the American postcards.
I found a handkerchief, too. It was ironed and folded into a small square, and hidden between the pages of the booklet. A yellow handkerchief, with scalloped edges trimmed in blue thread, and an embroidered fuchsia flower in each corner. Underneath one flower was the alphabet C, sewn in yellow thread as if to camouflage it.
No, don't ask me what the handwriting said. And no, there were no photographs. Not one.
HELENA S I M
O-LAH. NO ONE was surprised when Benjamin Nair passed away. We never knew what exactly was wrong with him, but for how long already he had been sickly, at least eight or nine years, okay? Always in and out of Mount Alvernia. First, because of terrible headaches, so everyone suspected a brain tumor. But nothing showed up on the CAT scan, bukan? And then, when the fellow started tripping over nothing and falling down for no reason, still, the doctors couldn't come up with anything definite. Ya-lah, a bit of rumor was already going around that something else must be involved. Since Mount Alvernia's a Catholic hospital, if you can't get well there, gone case-lah. Ah, I remember that's what Dorothy and Siew Chin they all were saying when it happened, Bernadette even. But you see how I never jump to conclusions unnecessarily. I was the only one who disagreed, okay? Even though there was a logic to what they were saying, about black magic being involved. You can't find a holier hospital than Mount Alvernia. Nuns on every floor. (I've already told Rose, when my time comes, that's where I want to go. Lucifer better not get my soul in the final hour. Hopefully she was listening. You never know what that one might try when you're feeling weak. Look how he tried to go for Our Lord himself when Our Lord was feeling faint from hunger. Not shy, that Lucifer. Going for the Son of God, imagine). So anyway, none of us were surprised when the fellow finally went. But what I told the others at the time was that he must have had very poor nutrition as a child, and eventually that sort of thing catches up with you, you know.
Siew Chin may have been the one to mention the other possibility, or it could have been Bernadette. That part of my memory is a bit blurry, but that's the only part. (Don't ask Rose about this. Of course she'll tell you something different. From her point of view, even believing in miracles is superstitious. She didn't use to be like that, okay? I don't know what's happening with her nowadays.)
Anyway, Benjamin Nair's death was in 1980, during the third-year anniversary of my own Hock Siew's passing. Ah, so the experience of losing a husband was still fresh for me, bukan? I knew how Valerie was feeling. That was why I tried to get her involved in activities right away. But she didn't want-lah. Some women, you know how they are. Once the heart gets broken, it stays broken. Not that I'm saying this was what happened with Valerie. Who can say what happened? She didn't confide in us. (just like that Madeleine Bhanu, when her Richard finally ran off with his secretary. Everyone knew it would happen, okay? Women with husbands like that should be more prepared, but they never are.) So anyway, she was quite a loner, Valerie. So the rumors were bound to gather, right? That's why I never shut myself away. If you don't want people to talk, you better do the talking yourself. (For Evelina Thumboo it was different-lah. She was so young when her husband was taken, the two having been married a few days only. Poor thing, ya? That one. Her husband was killed by a tourist, you know, driving drunk on the wrong side of the road. Up in Cameron Highlands-lah, during their honeymoon, imagine. So it was easier for her to gain sympathy.)
Let me tell you, from the very beginning, I tried not to get involved. (Rose doesn't believe this. I don't know why she thinks I'm always the ringleader. Just because I'm the type to voice my thoughts, which partly used to be for her benefit only. I wanted to set her an example-lah. And yet, see now. How is it possible for your own daughter to turn out so different? If I think about this for the rest of my life, I still won't know.) So anyway, I can't remember who first mentioned it to me, but as I was saying, it was either Siew Chin or Bernadette. Dorothy, her feelings were more like mine. Poor Valerie, the fellow just died, bukan? Not even cold in the grave. No matter whether your marriage was perfect or not, you're still going to miss your husband. "How can someone be sick so long, and all our doctors can't find out why?" That's what everyone was wondering, even though, of course, no one told Valerie this to her face. But she must have sensed something-lah. True, I wondered about it myself, and to be honest, the only thing that stopped me from believing it totally was this. Okay, say maybe someone, not necessarily Valerie, but someone was doing black magic on Benjamin Nair. With all those nuns around him, how could the magic still keep working? Look how it's written in the Gospel, whenever two or three are gathered in my name, there I will be among them. And definitely more than two or three were gathered in Mount Alvernia, the whole time Benjamin Nair lay there dying.
It had to be his fate-lah. Right or not?
ANYWAY. I IIAI BI:RNAI>F. i i i . One minute she was saying everything was just my imagination, next minute, she herself was inventing stories. She was the one to ask, "Why you think the daughter didn't come home for the funeral?" just before we reached Valerie's house.
As if off-
hand I would know what funeral she was talking about. Of course I knew, but what I mean is, listen to how she talked, that Bernadette. Obviously the fellow had been on her mind a while. Still waters run deep, ya?
"We know it wasn't the money," she said.
"Why not?" I said. "Could he it was the money. You know how expensive it is to fly? Especially if only for just a few days."
"Ya, but she can come home now, she couldn't come home then? And what's more important than your own father's funeral?"
"Alamak, please. That girl was over there one whole year already, you expect her to think like that?" Not that I was condoning Shakilah's behavior, okay? But I couldn't resist giving Bernadette a hard time. Every now and then, for some reason, she would rub me the wrong way, but our clashes were not serious-lah, as I've said.
"One year can't compare to your whole childhood, okay?" she said. 'That wasn't the reason. It was something else."
Actually, I agreed. One year couldn't have been enough to undo eighteen years of upbringing, but that depends on what kind of upbringing you've had. That Valerie, with her modern ideas. I always knew she was giving her daughter too much freedom. That girl used to come and go as she pleased. Even on weeknights, I don't think Valerie ever gave her a curfew. No wonder the family doesn't come first with her. It's all in the upbringing.
So I said this to Bernadette, but of course, she with her onetrack mind, she still insisted on another reason. So I decided, give her a chance to speak-lah.
"Okay, you so smart, what other reason can you think of?" I asked.
'That's what I mean," she said. No one knows."
All I could do was shake my head at her. "No one knows, so?" I went on asking. What kind of answer was that to give? No one knows. As if she had to tell me that.
"Someone must know, right?" she said.
But I couldn't see her point. And for the time being, I couldn't get her to explain what she meant because now, we had arrived outside Valerie's house. (To be honest, I did understand a little bit, where she was heading. You've heard that story about a diamond woman, right? Ah, that one, I won't repeat-lah, is so common already. Not that Bernadette and I ever talked about it anymore, and nor did Dorothy or Siew Chin, and till today, I still think it could be that music teacher from St. Agnes. You know who I mean. But anyway, most people wondered if it was Valerie. Bernadette also. And Bernadette wasn't stupid, you know. In fact, she could have gone far, if not for her health. Or then again, maybe not. I don't think she was ever that ambitious-lah, even though her exam marks used to be quite high, especially in science. Ask anyone about the rabbit she dissected in biology lab. She did it so perfectly and all by herself because her partner was absent that day. Who would have thought her capable? See how you can never tell about people.)
Ah, so anyway, Valerie must have been looking out of her window at the same time that we were reaching the house. Or maybe she was sitting there the whole time, watching the road. Could be, who knows. In that case, could be she saw something we hadn't seen, when the light changed. That was what I was thinking when her front door opened. Bernadette, she had her hand raised and she was just about to press the bell-button, and she said, "Eh?" as if so surprised. What's so surprising? Live by yourself, what else is there to do except sit by the window and watch the world go by? That's not my choice, but Valerie, as I was saying, she preferred to be left alone.
"Hello," she said, nodding her head as if welcoming us. You could tell she wasn't sure what we were doing there, okay? The doubtfulness was there in her eyes. She was afraid we were being busybodies, coming to kachau only. Ya-lah, I was aware of our reputation-lah. But what to do about that? You can't stop people from thinking what they want to think-lah. Okay, yes, you can, but to a certain limit only.
Ah, so ya-lah, I was going to start off slow, ask questions like, "How are you?" and "How's your daughter's visit coming along?" But that coconut-head friend of mine, betul-betul a coconut-head. Before I could say one word, she was already blurting out, "Eh, did you see anything just now? You saw, right? The blackout? You saw or not?"
Now Valerie was totally on guard. Of course she knew what Bernadette was talking about. How could she not know? The whole world disappearing like that, in the middle of the afternoon. Okay-lah, not to exaggerate, so it wasn't the whole world. But anyone home at the time would have noticed the air suddenly going black, whether or not there was a suitable explanation for it. (Some people think maybe because there was a dang-ki performing in the market that afternoon, and given the rumors about how after he had gone into a trance, people could hear voices in the air, I suppose there could have been a link. Some say the voices were not speaking clearly but as if in tongues, although a few people heard the voices speaking Malay, but not modern Malay. Some oldfashioned kind-lah that no one could interpret. Ah, and those two girls were there, Jo and Susanna, Alice Wang and Regina Lim's daughters, with a hunch of their St. Agnes friends. Of course they weren't supposed to go to things like that, but being teenagers, what. No one at the market remembers the air turning dark, by the way, and nowadays some want to say maybe they imagined the voices, even. But I tell you, I'm not making anything up.)
Of course it didn't surprise me when Valerie said, "Oh, was there a blackout?" as if really, she didn't know.
"Alamak, you didn't see anything? How come?" That Bernadette. It would take her a while to believe that people were not going to willingly open their mouths about this. This wasn't the usual gossip, right? Bernadette wasn't stupid, but as I've pointed out, she wasn't that observant of human nature-lah.
Valerie just shook her head. "It must have been during my nap," she said, quite calmly. "This heat, you know. It wears me out. I must have slept through the whole thing."
You hear how she was talking? Obviously she knew what Bernadette meant. Just from the way she said, "I must have slept through the whole thing," you could tell. Ah, so anyway, I saw right through her words, but definitely, I wasn't going to share this with Bernadette.
"Ya-lah, this heat," I said, trying to play along. Also, I wanted to change the subject so that, hopefully, Valerie would relax a bit. "The weather keeps getting worse. How are you keeping up, with your daughter's visit? Must be nice to have her home? We just stopped by to chat a bit."
"Oh, I'm fine. And yes, it's nice to have her home." Valerie smiled at us as if none of us were hiding anything. But you notice, still, Bernadette and I were not being invited into the house.
"Is she home for good?" Bernadette asked, finally catching on to what I was trying to do.
No, no, she's here on holiday." Valerie kept on smiling-lah, as if that way, her heartbreak wouldn't show or something. Of course her heart was broken. Any mother can understand this. Never mind what goes on between you and your daughter, whatever disagreements, whatever quarrels, how to bear the two of you living in different countries? Not just different countries. Separate continents. In this way I've been lucky that my Rose was never that adventurous. True, I used to try to encourage her, but it's a good thing I didn't succeed.
"Eh, you must be excited-lah, you're going to have a grandchild," Bernadette went on. See, why she must put her foot in her mouth? We all knew Shakilah didn't have a wedding ring on her finger.
"A child is always a blessing," I said quickly.
Valerie looked at me as if she was trying to decide whether or not I was serious. Needless to say, she wasn't smiling anymore, okay? Actually, even I couldn't read her facial expression now.
"Yes, always," I went on. I was nodding my head and so was Bernadette. She must have realized her mistake-lah, because the next second, I heard her say, "Yes, every child, no matter what. Every child is a blessing."
"Yes," Valerie said, finally. "I think so, too." Definitely, she was not going to invite us in, thanks to Bernadette.
So that's why-lah that afternoon, despite my good intentions, I ended up not getting a chance to remind Valerie about Pontianak. The mood was ruined-lah. Besides, there was still a bit
of time, I thought. We all knew the baby wasn't due for a few months. At least three months, but probably four, depending on whether it was a small baby or not. Better postpone the conversation to another day, I decided. And better not involve Bernadette the next time. That part was my mistake.
We didn't stay long after that. No point, bukan?
So ANYWAY, B E R N A I) .. I i i and I parted ways around five o'clock, give or take a few minutes. Supposedly that's when the old man was spotted again, I know. But you've heard the rumors, so you should understand. Not all the stories coincide, ya? For instance, according to one story, the chap was dressed like a World War II Japanese soldier, except he didn't have a bayonet. That's why some people started saying he could be a spirit left here to do penance-lah, for sins committed during the Occupation.
"Maybe he was the one who tied a seven-year-old girl to a rambutan tree. You remember that story?"
"You mean Mrs. Kathigasu's daughter? That was Yamashita who gave the orders-lab."
"Ya-lah, but some lowly soldier was sent to light the fire under the girl's legs, right? Maybe this was the chap. Could be-ab?"
"What about those other soldiers who participated in the massacres? Could be one of them also."
"Oh, ya-ah?"
"Eh, how come these soldiers when they appear never have blood on their uniforms? That's what I want to know."
You see how conversations eventually went off track? And in another story, can you believe? The fellow was wearing a business suit! Hiding behind the sago in the graveyard, dressed in a business suit! Betul-betul gila. Why would a ghost wearing a suit be gallivanting about in the graveyard?