crestfallen face, she said, “The newspaper misprinted the date, but they told all the family ahead of time. Didn’t you know?”
“We’d still like to pay our respects.” Shin smiled at the old lady, and she succumbed, giving us detailed instructions. Deflecting her questions, we hurried off.
The house was a small, single-story wooden building with a guava tree in the front yard and a skinny yellow dog tied to it. There were still signs of the funeral that had taken place, though the two large white paper lanterns with the name of the deceased written on them no longer hung on the sides of the door. Ash and scraps of partly burned colored paper blew around the compound—the remains of paper funeral goods burned for the deceased. I wondered whether they had burned plenty of dancing girls and garlicky chicken rice for the salesman in the Afterlife, then felt remorse for such irreverent thoughts.
At our approach, the dog hurled itself at us, barking madly. The guava tree shook, and I nervously eyed the rope that held the animal back.
“Excuse me!” I called out.
An older woman came out, shushing the dog. She looked enquiringly at us. “Oh dear, I told Ah Yoke that the date was wrong in the newspaper! Are you here to see her?”
I had no idea who Ah Yoke was, but I nodded. We took off our shoes as the woman showed us into the front room of the little house, dominated by a family altar wreathed with joss sticks and offerings. I placed the bouquet of white chrysanthemums on the altar. Bowing, we paid our respects to the deceased, the same portrait used in the newspaper obituary. The salesman stared out of the picture, stiff and formal. Chan Yew Cheung had been twenty-eight years old, to which had been added, as was customary, three more years to increase his life span. One year from the earth, one from heaven, and one from man. Soberly, I thought that even with the borrowed years, his time here hadn’t been very long.
Setting down two cups of tea, the woman said, “I’m his aunt. Were you friends of Yew Cheung? It was such a shock. He was always so strong—I never thought I’d outlive him.” Her face creased, and I was afraid she was going to start crying. I felt more and more uncomfortable.
“What happened to him?” asked Shin.
“He went to see a friend in Batu Gajah, but it got late and he still hadn’t come home. Ah Yoke was upset. You know how she can be. The next morning a passerby found him. He must have slipped and fallen into a storm drain. They said he broke his neck.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. And I was. I hadn’t liked the salesman much, but sitting in the house where he had lived, on a rattan armchair that he must have used, I felt a cold shadow settle on me.
“Actually, I didn’t know Mr. Chan well,” I said. “He was a customer at our shop and he happened to leave something behind. Then I read he’d passed away and thought I should return it.”
“In that case, you’d better talk to his wife.” She got up and parted the curtain of wooden beads in the rear of the house. “Ah Yoke!” she called. “This young lady has something from Yew Cheung.”
There was a long pause. Shin and I shifted uncomfortably in our seats. The aunt had just begun to say, “She’s very upset, as you can expect—” when a woman rushed into the room, hair wild and face swollen with crying. She flew straight at me.
“Bitch!” she shrieked. “How dare you come here?”
Shocked, I could barely block her with my arms, even as she slapped and scratched hysterically. Shin leaped up and dragged her off me. She fell in a heap on the floor and started to scream. It was a horrible noise, like a pig being slaughtered.
The aunt said, “Ah Yoke, what’s wrong with you? I’m so sorry! She’s been like this since yesterday. Are you hurt?”
Shaken, I put my hand to my throat. Ah Yoke was still lying on the floor. Her screams had died down into whimpers. “Give it,” she said. “Give it back to me.”
“What does she want?” I asked, horrified.
“Ah Yoke,” said the aunt, “you’re mistaken. This young lady works at a shop. She’s not one of Yew Cheung’s girls.” Darting a quick glance at me, she said, “You’re not, are you?”