Page 127 of The Girl with a Thousand Faces
She gazes out at you, just beneath the water’s surface: surreal and green-hued. The glamour has no effect on you because of my presence, or your experiences, but neither do you find her grotesque. She is simply a sad, lost spirit, acting on urges that you have also felt, and are now free of.
“Auntie? Whatever happens next, I want you to know that you were right to bring me back here. I can see that, now that I’m becoming human again.” You pause, gathering your words. “I won’t pretend I’m not angry or hurt, and I won’t pretend this makes everything right between us. But I can be all of those things, and still try to forgive.”
Thank you, Siu Yin, she says, rising out of the water. Despite the sun’s heatsearing her skin.You have the strength of a thousand lives, and I believe you will find the way to peace.
Tears well up, and you’re relieved to let them fall. Crying cannot embarrass you after all you’ve been through in life, and death, and life again.
Grasp her hand and give those stone-cold fingers a squeeze.
She squeezes back.
Rise slowly, still weary from the long journey which brought you back, at last, to Shek Ham Chau’s cursed shores. Turn and face me, tired and frightened and determined.
“I’m ready,” you say. “Let’s bury those old bones, and free some ghosts.”
40THE PEACE OF HEAVEN
August 26, 1975
(Four days later)
Picture yourself, a woman of fifty-odd years, lying flat on a quiet beach.
Beneath the shade of a giant taro tree, your form lies still and quiet. Dark hair fans out on the sand, forming a splash of ink around your face. Gray streaks add touches of lightness. Bruises bloom across your skin, though they will fade in a few days.
Trees sway, mangroves twist, birds call in low voices to one another. Waves unfurl like rolls of silk and still, you do not stir.
In the distance, someone calls your name.
Your eyes open.
Halos of refracted sunlight send you blinking, turning your head. Heave a breath, feeling strangely relieved that you can, and unsure why that would be. It seems like a long time since you’ve breathed so easily.
It’s beautiful, here.
You just have no idea where “here” is, how you got to this place… or even who you are.
If one were to look closely at some of the distant foliage, they might catch a glimpse of what look like buildings, long overgrown by lush green life. Lotus blossoms grow in clusters, out of season but still beautiful. Nature has reclaimed humanity’s brief habitat, yet the shape of old things remains.
To the left, there is a small, makeshift shrine; it was built for me by you, almost a day ago, though you don’t remember that right now. Crude joss sticks sit cold, alongside a pile of freshly harvested pearls. You’re about to examine it when, out on the wind, a lonely sound echoes and reverberates.
A shiver runs through you, every hair on your body standing up. It sounds like singing, but the voice—voices?—blends two melodies at once. Rise slowly, brush yourself clean. Unfamiliar clothes, but everything is unfamiliar. Things niggle at the edge of your memory. Whispers and thoughts, just below the surface.
Here is the truth: it is the morning of the fourth day since you retook your body, and that means your memory of being a ghost has faded fully. You’vemoved into a life that is new and old, at the same time, and you are not yet done adjusting.
It’s going to be a hell of a transition.
Later, I will come to you as a friend, as a deity committed to mercy and compassion. Later, I will sit with you as your memories struggle to return, because it is not straightforward when a water ghost is bound back into her own body, after so many years apart from it.
There are very few rules for that. We are all in uncharted waters.
When that is done, I will tell you the story of your own life, explaining about yourself and about Mei Chi. About the long history that tangles between you. I will tell you the things that she has told me. I will tell you thoughts I have kept in my heart, all these years.
And we will all hope you can forgive, becoming a disciple of compassion.
If you can, then the next time you die, you will no longer be a water ghost. Just another quiet spirit, going to her quiet rebirth. That is the outcome we all hope for.
If you can’t… Well. There is no path forward if you can’t; no rest for a spirit who remains angry. And you are so, so tired, in the depths of your being. So in need of spiritual sleep.
