Shadow Theatre (21 page)

And on the other side of the fence, Laura Timmerman's
house. Our classmate Laura Timmerman, who was married and
living in Australia by now. But her father was still living in the
house, and sometimes I would see him at the market, although
his servant usually did the shopping.

And there was a niece staying with him, who went to St.
Agnes. Sometimes I would see her also, she and her friends, two
of whom were from our road.

W E W E R I: A I the doctor's gate five minutes at the most. I was
keeping an eye out for anything peculiar, but all I saw were the
grass and weeds moving with the breeze, and blossoms falling off
the flamboyant trees to our right, healthy and fiery in the sun.

Shak was gazing towards the house, studying it as if to
memorize its faded look, so as to replace the house we used to
know with this one. I could feel her taking in the dried streaks
of rain and dust on the walls, the locked front door and windows, the empty earthen pot with a crack in it, the other pots
by the fence no longer there. I hadn't told her about the Jason
fellow, or that Isabella had been at the library earlier that afternoon, partly because I was doing what Isabella was going to do,
which was to leave it up to Shak to bring up the ghost, if there
was a ghost involved.

And partly, even though only a few hours had passed, already
my encounter with Isabella felt ancient, as if it had taken place
ages ago, in a different world. (Because that was how the library
was for me, you know, a very different world from our neighborhood. Modern and public, would be one way to put it. And whatever happened there felt like that, as if it really had nothing to do
with what went on on our road, which wasn't true, of course.)

Shak wasn't looking at the garden, until we started smelling
the rambutans that were rotting behind the house. Laura
Timmerman used to tell us about the rambutan trees, not visible
from the gate. The doctor's servants used to gather the fruits in
brown paper bags and give at least two bags to Laura's family,
the sweetest rambutans you ever tasted.

But all she said was, "I'm surprised the government's leaving
the property like that." That was what she said, Shak.

And I was relieved, although perhaps also slightly disappointed. Hard to tell, now.

"Do you like it, Rose? All the changes? Only beauty allowed."

The government doesn't own it, yet," I said, about the doctor's property, because Shak seemed to be accusing someone of
something, I could hear it in her tone. Just a touch of bitterness.
But was it directed at me or at the government, and what was
there to accuse us of? How else was Singapore to survive without changing, staying ahead of the times? Had Shak forgotten
this wasn't America? That our soil wasn't suitable for farming,
even if we could afford the space? That we even had to buy our
water from Malaysia?

Fifteen years couldn't have erased that much, surely. She
was from here. She should know, I thought, as I watched a flamboyant blossom spiral out of the shade of the tree's branches,
then waver in the sunlight before dropping into the weeds.

"I'm glad," Shak said, and when I looked at her, she was
smiling. "I'm glad it hasn't been sold to them. At least, they
haven't touched this part."

Her old, usual, honest smile.

"They will," I heard myself saying, suddenly. "You can bet
on it. Would you believe, the government's giving free money
to people who want to renovate their homes? All you have to
do is promise to follow their guidelines for the renovation, to
make sure your house fits in with the landscape."

"Make sure your house fits in with the landscape," Shak
repeated, the breeze in the garden taking away her words like
scraps of paper in the air.

"You're lucky you came home in time."

"I'm lucky." Shak smiled again, but differently now.

Perhaps because she didn't have to live here and make the best
of whatever circumstances, because she wasn't the one left behind.
And because she hadn't chosen to come back, and not even to write
and explain to me why. (One short visit after fifteen years didn't
count, not in that way, even by letting bygones be bygones.)
Because hurt feelings can last a long time, and we were supposed to
be closer than anyone else, and deep down inside, we were.

Perhaps because of all of that, I was saying things that
jabbed and pinched her like the fingers of a spoiled brat.

I turned away and listened to the breeze settling into the
weeds, embarrassed at myself.

We left soon after that, and as we were walking off, Matthew
Coleman was across the road, slipping into the cemetery
through the open gate. Probably taking the short cut to his
house, I thought. (Because there was a raggedy path that wound
around the trees and gravesites, more or less cutting diagonally
across the cemetery.) I remember Shak asking, "Who's that?" She
didn't know Matthew of course, although she was watching him
as if she did, her eyes following the white patch of Matthew's Tshirt as he disappeared into the shrubbery, which took less than
a minute, because of how overgrown everything was.

When I told her Matthew was Adelaide Coleman's younger
grandson, Shak said quietly, "Doesn't he remind you of the doc tor's son?" but I didn't think she could be referring to the way
Matthew was always getting into trouble, since she didn't even
know who he was.

So all I said was, "Boys at that age, that's how they are."

Shak didn't say anything. She was touching her womb with
just the tip of her right index finger, as if afraid to let even the
shadow of her hand pass over the baby's face while it slept.
"You're right, Rose," she whispered, and somehow I knew she
meant, what I had said about her coming home in time.

About her being lucky.

Maybe that was why she wouldn't bring up everything later,
even if she wanted to.

AUNTIE COCO WAS sweeping outside her gate when we turned
onto our road. Hers was the house next door to Evelina
Thumboo's, so I remember what time it must have been,
because Evelina Thumboo was standing underneath her
jacaranda tree, watering her dead husband's ashes. She always
did that, you know, at six o'clock, once a week, always on a
Friday. From the time Shak and I were children, people were
saying it was because her husband had been killed by a tourist
driving drunk in the middle of their honeymoon. Evelina
Thumboo was in so much grief, no wonder, her mind was halfgone. She had buried her husband's ashes underneath the
jacaranda, and every Friday she would water them, hoping to
bring him back to life. This had been going on since Shak and
I were seven years old, so it was part of our childhood. Like a
ritual, you know, Evelina Thumboo watering the roots of the
jacaranda, we seeing her.

So it must have been around six o'clock. Evelina Thumboo
smiled at us through the fence when she saw us, and I remember
Shak's breath, warming my ear as she leaned towards me and
whispered, "She's still doing that, huh?" as if everything was back to normal between us. As if I hadn't accused her of betrayal in
some way, just a few minutes ago, outside the doctor's gate.

I smiled at her, at Shak, and nodded, glad that ours was a
true friendship.

Auntie Coco's sister was sitting underneath the awning over
the front door, shelling peas and looking up now and then to
watch as the cemetery leaves that Auntie Coco was sweeping
off the roadside floated up and into the monsoon drain. Barbara,
the sister's name was, but not even Auntie Coco called her that.
She was sitting in a folding chair with the basket of peas in her
lap, and a yellow Tupperware howl on the ground, at her feet.
Her mouth hanging half open like always, as she watched Shak
and me approach her house. It was her mouth that gave her
away, you know. Because otherwise, who could tell just by looking, she was retarded? Auntie Coco always dressed her so nicely, the sister. Buying her clothes from Isetan, making sure her
hair was always neatly combed. She even plucked her sister's
eyebrows for her and helped her with a bit of lipstick.

"Hello, how are you?" Auntie Coco was saying to Shak, as we
were about to pass her gate. Her tone was friendly, and I didn't
pick up on any hidden agenda. Besides, Auntie Coco wasn't the
yakkity-yak sort, you know, although she may have been curious like everyone else, about the baby's father.

"Hello," said Shak, while I noticed her glancing at the sister,
who was watching us now as if we were on television.

"Hello, Auntie Coco," I said, and Shak and I would have
kept on walking, because there was no reason for us to stop, and
also, Shak was getting tired, I could tell from the way she smiled
at Auntie Coco. Because the heat was getting to her, I thought,
when I saw her eyes had a wandering expression, as if she didn't
have the energy to focus.

But then, Auntie Coco asked us, "Eh, Rose, eh, you and your
friend stop and talk a while, can?"

So we stopped, out of politeness only.

Different from when we were outside the doctor's gate, here
there was no breeze blowing about, the asphalt sloping up hot
and dry. The air ticking with frogs and insects, with mosquitoes
and grasshoppers mostly, although in our schooldays there used
to be butterflies also, fluttering their psychedelic wings over the
gravesites in the cemetery, and in Gopal Dharma's garden.

There were no other neighbors outside, as far as I could see,
everyone else either preparing for dinner or not at home.

"You just came back from America-ah?" Auntie Coco was
asking Shak. "Are you back for good?"

"No, just for a visit," replied Shak.

"Ah, you have a good doctor here or not?" Auntie Coco
went on.

Shak hesitated for a moment, then said, "My mother's gynecologist." She looked taken aback at the question, as if in
America, no one would ask this sort of thing, as if it might be
considered rude.

"Ah, who?" asked Auntie Coco.

"Dr. Tay something."

mm.

Shak glanced at me, and I tried to smile back reassuringly,
although whether or not it worked, I wasn't sure.

"You didn't go to see him, yet, right?" Auntie Coco continued.

"No, I have an appointment."

"Ah, when?"

Shak hesitated again, then said slowly, "Monday."

Auntie Coco nodded as if to agree that Monday was the
best day, or as if she had already sensed the appointment was on
Monday, and now it was confirmed. She was known to be a bit
clairvoyant, you know, Auntie Coco, and some people were
saying she may have been born with a veil, which would mean
she could see ghosts also. But why she would be clairvoyant
about something like a doctor's appointment, it made no sense
to me.

"How's your health, Auntie Coco?" I asked, trying to change
the subject, to help Shak out.

"Oh, sama sama." She sighed. "My cholesterol's a hit highlah, so the doctor wants me to go on a diet. Aiya, I told him,
how am I going to go on a diet at my age?" Auntie Coco shook
her head, and when she looked at Shak, her eyes were full of
concern, but I thought it was only because of Shak's pregnancy.
"You are healthy?"

Shak smiled. "Yes."

"We should be going now," I started to say, but Auntie Coco
was already calling to her sister, "Sabi, Babi, come out here for
a while."

The sister smiled, but didn't rise from the chair. She went on
holding the basket of peas, smiling as if she didn't have a care in
the world, as they say.

"Auntie Coco," I started again.

She swatted at my words like mosquitoes, and stepped closer to Shak, who stepped closer to me at once, which surprised
both me and Auntie Coco, although for different reasons. And
it made Auntie Coco say, "Eh?" and look at Shak as if suddenly
she was realizing, clairvoyant or not, she didn't really know
Shak. Like everyone else, she had been making assumptions
about her.

"I'm not going to eat you, girl," said Auntie Coco. "Why you
scared of me like that?"

"Oh, I didn't mean that." Shak shook her head and gave
Auntie Coco an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry." Then she looked
at me, but I didn't know what to say.

"Come, let me touch your baby."

Before we knew it, Auntie Coco had laid her hands on
Shak's womb, and I saw her sister putting down the basket and
getting up.

'Three months more. Make sure this Ur. Tay is a good doctor,
okay? If you don't like him, come and see me. I give you someone." That was what she said, Auntie Coco, although Shak was only five
months pregnant.

'The baby's not due until the end of December, Auntie
Coco," I said, since Shak wasn't saying anything.

'Three months," she repeated, removing her hands quite
solemnly. She looked at Shak. "You listen to me, okay, girl? You
get ready-ah."

Shak nodded and smiled. She didn't completely believe
what Auntie Coco was saying, I could tell. I wondered whether
to let her know about Auntie Coco and how she may have been
born with a veil, but then I looked at that watermelon womb
and thought, maybe it was better not to. In case the rumor
about the baby ghost was indeed a rumor only, I didn't want to
help Chandra to pantang Shak. Definitely, I didn't want to pantang her baby, such a helpless innocent.

Auntie Coco's sister had come out to the gate by now, and
was standing and staring at Shak's womb. She was wearing one
of her prettier dresses that evening, a floral print, I remember.
Blue and yellow splashes of Danish tulips on a white background, very bright and free, as if she were going out somewhere, as if she were meeting up with a hot date, as they say. I
wouldn't want to own a dress like that now, since you never
know what can bring you bad luck, but it was certainly pretty.

"Howdee," said the sister, meaning "Howdy," of course, like
a cowboy, only she couldn't speak that fast.

Shak smiled at her and said, "Hi, how are you?" very kindly, which maybe was what made the sister decide it was safe to
come out to the road.