Chương 35: chapter 35

<p>Girl<br/>IN THE CEMETERY,nothing moved, not even the insects and animals<br/>that usually crept and crawled under cover of the shadows. Pink,<br/>Suraya, and Jing sat in a row, savoring the quiet and thecool night<br/>air. Suraya didn't know what was going through her friends' minds,<br/>but her own was filled with the cold dread of words like goodbyeand<br/>goneand forever, and she couldn't shake the fear that saying<br/>anything at all would bring their inevitable parting even closer.<br/>"Well." Jing spoke first, breaking the spell. "That was . . . quite a<br/>night."<br/>Suraya had to smile. "Better than going to the movies, huh?"<br/>"Definitely better."<br/>"Better than Star Wars even?"<br/>"Let's not go that far." Jing smiled and nudged Suraya with her<br/>shoulder. "I'll just sit here for a sec, take a breather. You guys go . . .<br/>handle your business."<br/>Pink looked at her. Thank you, Jing, he said quietly.<br/>She stared at him open-mouthed for a second. "You mean you<br/>could have just TALKED TO ME this WHOLE TIME?"<br/>I could have.Pink shrugged.But this is thefirst time I have felt<br/>that you are not just her friend . . . but also mine.<br/>Jing's face broke out into that familiar wide grin. "The feeling's<br/>mutual, buddy." She rubbedher nose with her thumb, narrowly<br/>missing hitting her face with the shovel she still carried. "Oh. You'll<br/>need this." She pressed it into Suraya's spare hand, clasping it tight<br/>for a moment before she let go. "So I guess . . . I guess this is<br/>goodbye."<br/>Farewell. Pink thought for a second. May the force be with you.<br/>Jing's delighted laugh rang through the cemetery as she walked<br/>away.<br/>Suraya and Pink made their way to the little grave at the very top of<br/>the hill.<br/>"This isit, Pink," Suraya said quietly. "We're about to find out who<br/>you really are. Are you ready?"<br/>For a moment, he didn't answer. "You don't have to, you know,"<br/>she said, all in a rush. "The pawang is gone now. We have nothing to<br/>fear. We could just . . . go back to the way things were! We could be<br/>happy again. And besides . . . there's no guarantee this will even<br/>work."<br/>Beside her, she thought she felt his body tremble, just slightly.<br/>You know we need to do this. Or we need to at least try.<br/>"But why?" She was sobbingnow; she just couldn't help it. "Why<br/>can't you just stay with me?"<br/>He laid a scaled hand against her cheek, as he'd done so many<br/>times before. It's hard to livea life weigheddown by the dead. And<br/>you need to live, Suraya.<br/>She didn't even try to stop the tears coursing down her cheeks,<br/>and he was quiet. Pink always did know when to give her the space<br/>to feel her feelings.<br/>When he spoke again, his voice was firm and steady.<br/>I am ready.<br/>Slowly, they approached the neat little grave that sat in theshade<br/>of a flowering frangipani tree, only with dark red petals darkening to<br/>burgundy centers instead of the pure white ones with the deep<br/>yellow hearts from Suraya's garden. The grave was impossibly, sadly<br/>small, its head- and tail stone bearing small cracks and a thick layer of dust. Yet flowers crept along the edges, blooming defiantly in the<br/>midst of neglect and decay.<br/>Suraya bent down, hesitantly sounding out the name spelled out<br/>in curling Arabic script.<br/>IMRAN, SON OF RAHMAN AND NORAINI.<br/>She sucked in a breath sharply. The world seemed to spin that<br/>much faster, so fast she had to sit down before she fell over.<br/>RAHMAN. AND NORAINI.<br/>What is it?<br/>She took a deep breath.<br/>"That's your name, Pink. Imran." She pointed it out to him. "And<br/>those . . ."<br/>Those . . . ?<br/>"Those are my parents' names."<br/>"Suraya?"<br/>She turned her head.<br/>It was Mama. And standing next to her, barely visible and<br/>flickering slightly in the dying moonlight, was a ghost. A small<br/>woman, Suraya realized, Pink's words echoing in her head, round<br/>and soft with a smile that made her whole face crinkle up and her<br/>eyes disappear into two thin lines.<br/>But there was another ghost.<br/>And suddenly Suraya understood. She understood it all: her<br/>mother's constant aches andpains; the bow and hunch of her thin<br/>shoulders; the sorrow hiding in the depths of her eyes likecrocodiles<br/>in still water, waiting to pounce; the way she held her own daughter<br/>at arm's length. Because theother ghost was with her mama; a little<br/>boy no more than two years old, with a shock of dark hair and huge<br/>eyes that sparkled with starlight and fear, who clasped his hands<br/>around her mother's neck as if he would never let go.<br/>Her brother.<br/>Imran.<br/>"How did you know where to find us?"<br/>They knelt beside Pink's grave—Imran's grave, her brother's<br/>grave; Suraya's head swirled with all this new information until it<br/>made her dizzy. The witch's ghost perched daintily on a nearby tree stump, her flowery batik sarong spreading over the roots. Her<br/>brother's ghost stared at her with wary, watchful eyes.<br/>"Your friend's mother . . . she called me." Mama's voicedidn't<br/>sound like Mama's at all; it was cracked, and small, and sad. "She<br/>said you two were nowhere to be found, that her daughter wasn't<br/>answering her phone. She said the last place she knew for sure you<br/>were was near Gua Musang. I was on my way there whenshe called<br/>again and said you'd gotten money from a gas station near here.<br/>Then I knew for sure where you were headed. I knew . . ." Mama<br/>swallowed. "I knew what you must have been looking for."<br/>"Tell me everything, Mama."<br/>She let out a weary sigh. "Your father had just died," shebegan,<br/>and hervoice creaked like a door that hadn't been opened in a long,<br/>long time. "You were a tiny little baby, and I was exhausted. We<br/>came here, to my mother, because I thought she couldhelp me.<br/>Help us. I should have known better."<br/>She paused as though to collect herself. "I knew about her<br/>witching—I'd known about it for a long time—but I thought she could<br/>put thataside for once and just be there for her family. And anyway,<br/>she wasn't a very good witch."<br/>"Excuse me!" The witch's voice was like old leaves and dry<br/>riverbeds, and it was filled with outrage.<br/>Mama ignoredher. "She tried, but all she could manage were<br/>little spells and hexes. You remember that time you insisted you<br/>were sick? You threw such a tantrum when we told you that you<br/>were perfectly well, the doctor gave you placebo pills. You thought<br/>that was what the medicine was called, when it actually wasn't<br/>medicine at all. It was fake, a little lie to make you believeyou would<br/>get better. Well, that's the kind of witch your grandmother was. It<br/>made people feel good to think her little spells were actually doing<br/>what they wanted, and so they paid her money for nothing more than<br/>fake pills that made them believe they felt better."<br/>"Hmmph." The witch sniffed. "Say what you want, but I helped<br/>people. And I made a decent living for us doing it, too."<br/>"So . . .what happened to my brother?" Suraya was almost afraid<br/>to ask; she had to force the words out before she lost her nerve.<br/>"He wandered into the pond and drowned one afternoonwhile I<br/>was sleeping next to you." She said it fast and forcefully, as if she<br/>couldn't bear the words to linger on her tongue for too long, and the<br/>little boy-ghost on her back shivered, as if he remembered the<br/>feeling of cool, cool water swirling into his lungs and pushing the air<br/>and thelife out of him. "My breast was still in your mouth. The sheets<br/>were wet with milk when I woke up, my head hammering, knowing<br/>immediately that something was wrong."<br/>Suraya's tongue felt thick and fuzzy, and her throat ached with<br/>unshed tears as she reached out to grasp her mother's hand in her<br/>own.<br/>"I didn't hear him at all." Mama's breaths were short now, and<br/>ragged, and choked with sadness. "But he must have made some<br/>sound. Right? Surely he would have splashed, or cried, or yelled. I<br/>should have heard him." She massaged her aching shoulders,<br/>shifting the boy's weight fromone side to the other as shestared up<br/>at the moon. "I blamed myself. And sometimes, because it was<br/>easier, I blamed her."<br/>"I was meant tobe watching him." The witch shook her head, the<br/>lines onher face leavened with sadness. "I don't know how he got<br/>away from me. He'd just found his feet. He was a quick one, slippery,<br/>like a tadpole swimming downstream."<br/>"But he couldn't swim like atadpole, could he?" There was no<br/>anger in Mama's voice; it was flat and strangely matter-of-fact. "I<br/>couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand being here, and I couldn't stand her.<br/>I left, taking you with me. I wanted another life, one where nobody<br/>knew who we were. I didn't know what she would do, didn't even<br/>suspect until Jing's mother told me you were here, back in Kuala<br/>Gajah. And then I knew. I knew what she'd done to him."<br/>"Done to him?" The witch was indignant. "I loved that boy."<br/>"Then why did you do what you did?" There was anger now, and<br/>so much anguish it made Suraya's heart ache and her toes curl.<br/>"Why did you make him this . . . this . . . thing? This monster?"<br/>Beside her, she felt a small quiver, and Suraya knew it hurt Pink to<br/>hear these words spill from Mama's lips so easily.<br/>"I thought it would be a way of keeping part of him with me." The<br/>witch's voice was small, andtired, and somehow older than it had ever been. "A way of keeping him alive. I just followed the<br/>instructions. I didn't know it would make . . . this."<br/>"You were never very good with recipes." Mama sniffed, running<br/>her sleeve under her nose toclear the snot that trailed from it. "Why<br/>didn't you just get rid of it?"<br/>The witch looked at her, aghast. "You know how I feel about<br/>waste. It was there, and it was a perfectly good resource." She<br/>folded her hands primly in her lap. "I made full use of it . . . of him.<br/>And I became a very good witch indeed. And . . ." She coughed, and<br/>Suraya thought she caught a glimpse of something more behind that<br/>prim expression, something soft and warm and altogether more<br/>likable. "And I suppose I liked having him around. Even if he<br/>wasn't . . . the him I remembered. I liked having that piece, at least."<br/>"I'm sorry you ever did it."<br/>"I'm not," Suraya said quietly, but with a firmness in her voice she<br/>didn't know she possessed. "He's the best friend I ever had. In fact,<br/>he's more than that. He's . . . he's family."<br/>"I'm family," the witch replied testily. "And what's more, you never<br/>even come to see my grave. Young people today, honestly."<br/>"I didn't know where your grave even was!"<br/>The witch sniffed. "Excuses."<br/>Suraya thought of something then, and she drew the marble out<br/>of her pocket. "Is this yours?"<br/>There was a flash of recognition in the witch's eyes. "Gave it to<br/>her, didn't I?" She jerked her head in Mama's direction. "Sent it in the<br/>post. Told her it would help her see her boy, or her man if she<br/>wanted. Never Even got a thank you note, I'll have you know." Her<br/>tone was injured.<br/>"I locked it away," Mama said, her eyes on the grave. She ran her<br/>hand gently over his name: IMRAN, etched into the gray headstone.<br/>When she spoke again, her words were for Suraya alone. "I didn't<br/>want to see him. My grief was too much for me. To lose two people<br/>almost at once. To lose your own child. It's like losing a part of your<br/>heart. And the part that was left hurt too much, so much that I<br/>covered it in darkness and did my best to feel nothing at all." She<br/>turned to her daughter, and Suraya tried hard to see the pain in her eyes without flinching. "Can you see what that might do to a<br/>person?"<br/>The little ghost around her neck looked at Suraya, and his eyes<br/>were wide and dark and scared.<br/>"I can see," Suraya said, stroking the thin hand she held in her<br/>own, and she could. She could see the slope of her mother's<br/>shoulders, bent not just with the weight of the phantombaby that<br/>clung to her, but the guilt thatwouldn't let her go, and she chose her<br/>next words carefully. "But Mama, broken mothers raise broken<br/>daughters. Didyou not see how we could have each filled the parts<br/>the other was missing? Been stronger, together?"<br/>"I see that now," Mama whispered. "But at the time, all I could<br/>think was I had no strength left for love. I had to use it all for survival.<br/>There was nothing left."<br/>Beside her, so still that she had almost forgotten him, Pink stirred.<br/>It is no wonderthat I love you as I do,he said. It is because apart of<br/>me always recognized you as my little sister.<br/>Slowly, he got up and stood before Suraya's mother, who<br/>seemed not at all surprised to be addressed by this scaled, horned,<br/>solemn-eyed beast. You have been carrying this burden for a long<br/>time,he said gently, and she nodded, looking up at him witheyes<br/>that still glistened with tears. It does not do to cling to the dead and<br/>forget the living. Will you let me take it from you?<br/>It took longer this time, but after a while she nodded.<br/>Pink reached up.<br/>The little ghost-boy hesitated.<br/>It isall right,Pink said quietly. It isall right. They don't belong to<br/>us, you see. They belong to each other, just as you and I do.<br/>The ghost-boy thought aboutthis for a second. Then, slowly, he<br/>unclasped his hands from around Mama's neck and let Pink lift him<br/>gently into his great, scaled arms.<br/>Mama sobbed as if her heart would break.<br/>Pink knelt down beside her, bowing his great horned head toward<br/>her own. You can come and visit, the way you should with your<br/>dead,he told her, his voice soft and warm as a hug. And he—I—we<br/>—will always be here for you, and glad to see you. But nobody is meant to live their whole liveshanging on to ghosts. Just as he and I<br/>must let go, so must you.<br/>And so must I,Suraya realized, and the breath she let out was a<br/>long, shaky sigh.<br/>Beneath the tears and the sadness, Suraya thought she saw<br/>relief flicker on Mama's faceas she stared up at Pink's monstrous<br/>face and placed a trembling hand on his cheek.<br/>"Thank you," she whispered.<br/>No, Mama. Thank you.<br/>The pre-dawn sky was the color of a day-old bruise, and the air filled<br/>with the steady clink, clink, clink of trowel against dirt.<br/>There was little light to see by, but if you were looking carefully,<br/>you might have seen a dark, hulking shape shrink rapidly into a small<br/>one, one that looked very much like a grasshopper, on the palm of a<br/>little girl's hand.<br/>If you had verysharp eyes indeed, you might even have seen the<br/>grasshopper place one tiny foot against the little girl's damp, tear<br/>stained cheek.And if you strained your ears, you might have heard<br/>the words he spoke for her alone, the ones that made her close her<br/>eyes for a second and lean in close, just breathing the scent of him.<br/>Then he slipped into the small jar she held in her other hand, and<br/>there was silence as she placed the silver lid on, screwed it tight,<br/>and placed it in the deep, dark hole she'd dug with her little trowel.<br/>Nobody said a word as she covered the jar with the dampearth,<br/>packing it tightly so you'd never know it had been disturbed at all—<br/>not Mama; not Jing, cradling her arm in its cast; not Badrul or<br/>Salmah or even the witch, who all slowly began to fade as light stole<br/>into the cemetery.<br/>She was sweaty and shaking by the time it was over, and her<br/>face was streaked with dirt and tears.<br/>"It isdone," Suraya whispered. "The bond is broken, andthis is<br/>the end."<br/>And as the sunrose over the cusp of the world, the ghost finally<br/>closed his eyes and died.</p>