“I’m not touching that lah sup tang, garbage can. We don’t need to see her anymore, and taking that tree out will guarantee it.”

“Those old ghost stories are making you paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid, lah. I’ve told you time and again that she was Pontianak.” I knew Auntie meant the ghost in Malaysian folklore who is believed to be the spirit of women who died while pregnant or in childbirth. She believed that Pontianak lived in banana trees during the day and roamed around at night.

Auntie Choo Neo continued complaining about Mother. “Her hair was too perfect, and she always looked too sweetly at my brother. When she lost my brother’s only son, I know she died. You were not there, Stephen. I saw the blood drain from her face. We’ve been living with a ghost all this time, and now she has gone back to where she belongs. I’ve been telling Ah Loy that he is much better off without her. Our only worry is whether the girls are of this world or not.”

Uncle Stephen tilted his head towards Bea and me where we sat at the kitchen table. Auntie Choo Neo hadn’t even noticed we were there. She smacked Uncle Stephen over the head and whispered in her loud way, “Aya! You knew all this time and you didn’t say anything? Kah kin, hurry up and get this out of the house.”

“Mom is not a ghost!” Bea shouted.

Uncle Stephen fumbled out of the kitchen with the banana tree.

“Aya, I was just talking, Bea. Sit down and eat,” Auntie Choo Neo replied.

“She is coming back. You better put that plant back where it belongs.” Bea ran to stop Uncle Stephen. He placed the heavy pot in the foyer, just at the threshold of the front door. Auntie Choo Neo went to take Bea’s hand, but she ripped it away out of Auntie’s grasp.

“Put it back!” Bea yelled.

Auntie Choo Neo slapped Bea in the face, and then pulled her into her chest. Auntie’s voice was firm. “Listen, Bea. Your Mother is not coming back. Do you see any of her clothes left? Her jewellery? Her precious belongings? She took everything. She is not on vacation. She is not coming back. The sooner you understand, the better for all of us. She left. I am here now. Show me some respect. No one else is feeding you dinner tonight. Only me. Do you see her here? What kind of mother is she to leave you here?”

Bea started to cry and ran over to me. I put my arm around her and started to cry, too. We didn’t finish our dinner, and Auntie Choo Neo didn’t say anything more to us that day. That was the last time I heard Bea defend our mother. It was as if Auntie Choo Neo’s words had permanently pierced her heart. Weeks went by and there was no sign or word from Mother. Father never talked about her, acting as if she’d never existed. She became a ghost to us.