O Chin - Now That It's Over

“Maybe that’s why we can continue to love someone after so many years, because we can never get to the end of this mystery. But I don’t want to pretend to know anything about love, when it’s hardly the case, when I’m still trying to understand what it’s all about. Don’t laugh at me, I know I sound silly, but seriously, what do we actually know about love? What is it exactly about this person we profess to love that we actually love? What, really?”

“Are you drunk? What’s in that calamansi lime drink you had? Did they spike it with something?” Cody said.

“Don’t pretend you don’t understand what I’m saying,” Ai Ling said, keeping her voice level, before continuing. “Just hear me out. I have this aunt, my mother’s younger sister, who lost her husband to a heart attack while he was driving. One moment he was signalling to turn right at a junction, talking to my aunt, and the next moment he was clutching his chest. The car was still moving and slammed right into the back of a truck. He was dead before he reached the hospital.”

Cody sneaked a look at Chee Seng, and then back at Ai Ling and Wei Xiang. Nobody spoke.

Ai Ling tapped her fingers on the red-checked tablecloth and took in a long breath.

“I’m very close to my aunt. My mum used to ask her to babysit me when I was much younger, when she had to work an extra shift at the factory. Maybe because they were childless, my uncle and aunt doted on me a lot, always giving in to my requests for anything: snacks, toys, colouring books. They treated me as if I were their own daughter.

“Right after the accident, I rushed to the hospital. My aunt had suffered a few broken ribs and some bruises, and was in a coma for a few days, but otherwise she was okay. I can still remember when she finally woke up, the look on her face, this raw, open confusion, like an exposed wound. Nobody wanted to tell her about the death of my uncle at first, but I think somehow she knew, from the way we were keeping a guilty silence around her. We thought we could spare her the pain for as long as we could.”

Ai Ling caught her breath, brought Wei Xiang’s beer to her lips and took a long swig. Wei Xiang covered her hand with his and held it. Ai Ling smiled at him.

“This tastes great, I should order one,” she said. Her eyes shone in the semi-darkness of the restaurant. The waiters were flitting about, lighting the tea light in the flask-lamp on every table. Tiny buds of flame came to life from every part of the room, a field of hovering fireflies. Outside, the waves fell and crashed in gentle, lulling succession; moonlight dappled across the inky surface of the sea, tracing the outline of each wave as it pushed onto the shore.

“So what happened to your aunt after she knew? I mean, she would have known everything later on, right?” Chee Seng said.

“Of course she knew everything, my parents had to tell her. My aunt took in the news with composure, but underneath you could tell she was not herself at all. She seemed so lost and helpless then, stuck in her grief. The doctor said it was only natural, and that we should be patient and just let her take her time to come around.”

Ai Ling paused to take another sip of the beer, to clear her throat.

“I’m not sure she will ever get over it. She was married to my uncle for over forty years. How can anyone survive that kind of loss? How can anyone get over this? It’s like having two arms chopped off and someone telling you to get over it, move on, live a normal life, go back to the life you used to have? It’s ridiculous.”

“But people do get over these things, and move on,” Cody said.

“No, not entirely. All this nice talk about getting over death and moving on is just bullshit. If you’re truly frank with yourself, you won’t get over these things so easily. It will hit you again and again, and you won’t know what to do with it, this terrible grief that’s inside you, that’s fucking you up inside out. How can you stop loving someone just because he’s dead?”

“Now, who’s the one being melodramatic?” Cody said.

“Anyway, let me finish the story. Shortly after my aunt went back home, I got a call from her in the middle of the night. She was distraught over the phone, trying to say something to me. I rushed over to her place and found her on the floor, clenching my uncle’s reading spectacles. I had to pry her off the floor and coax her back into bed. The spectacles were crushed in her grip and the broken glass had cut deep into her palm. I bandaged the cut and stayed with her until she finally calmed down. It was a long time before she returned to herself. That was the only time it happened, and we never talked about it.” Ai Ling stopped and shook her head.

“Dear, don’t…” Wei Xiang said.

Ai Ling continued: “Some nights, I dreamt that I was my aunt, sitting in the car, watching my uncle die before my eyes. The car still moving, just about to crash into the other vehicle, my uncle with a fist to his chest, head on the steering wheel, losing control of the car. I could not move a single muscle while watching all this unfold before me. I could not understand a single thing of what was happening. The whole event took only a split second, everything flashing forward and playing out in slow motion. And then the crash finally came, and in my head, or maybe my aunt’s, all I could hear was just: Why didn’t I die with him?”

“Ai Ling…” Wei Xiang brought his arm around Ai Ling’s shoulders. Under the table, Cody felt Chee Seng’s hand tighten on his, fingernails digging into his flesh.

“Okay,” Ai Ling said. “I’m just being incoherent now. I’ve talked too much. I’ll shut up now.”

The waiter came over to suggest some desserts, but nobody was in the mood for any. Wei Xiang asked for the bill and took out his wallet. Chee Seng offered to pay but Wei Xiang declined. “You can pay tomorrow,” Wei Xiang said.

Cody brought up his bottle of beer and proposed a toast. “For our trip, for the next few days. And also, Merry Christmas!”

“Yes, to us, to what we have now,” Ai Ling said, tapping her glass against Cody’s bottle.

When the waiter came and put Wei Xiang’s change on their table, he barely looked at it. Even when everyone had finished their drinks, nobody made a move to go. A silence had settled between them.

“Where shall we go next?” Wei Xiang said, eventually.

Ai Ling looked at him, not registering anything, her eyes blank. She held Wei Xiang’s gaze. Chee Seng turned to look at the dark sea; Cody closed his eyes for a moment, stifling a yawn. Sitting in the noisy restaurant, separated from the other patrons, none of them wanted to make the first move to leave.

CHEE SENG

We leave the burial mound and head back to the hut in silence, treading through the dark, the night air chilly on my skin. The old woman has taken the lead, and I try to stay in step with her, not wanting to lose sight. She moves with the certainty of a person who knows her way through the forest—a dark maze of rocky, dirt paths—even with her eyes closed. Around us, the forest is a discordant chorus of nocturnal sounds: buzzing, clicking, and the occasional throaty drone of an unseen bird that sounds like a prolonged burst of pellets shot from a pistol. Even with my eyes open, I can’t see much, except for the dark moving form of the old woman before me; the darkness is full and material, a presence that envelops me from all sides. My legs are covered with scratches, my arms and neck dotted with mosquito bites.

When I look up, I see the silhouettes of trees against the satin deep-blue sky, glittering with stars. The hue of the sky is like nothing I have ever seen before—rich and velvety. I crane my neck to see what lies ahead of the old woman; the small hut slowly materialises. I sense the old woman hastening her steps, her footfalls light, almost soundless. We stop at the well and she draws up a pail of water and splashes both our feet, a biting relief. I plunge my hands into the pail and splash the water all over my face, feeling my sweaty skin bristle.