Half World

by Hiromi Goto

  Ms. Wei’s worried face glared back, fierce with concern, eyes intently searching her face. When the old woman saw that Melanie’s Life was still in her eyes, her expression softened. “Melanie has come home,” Ms. Wei said wonderingly. “Ms. Wei knew it! Ms. Wei called a cab and came as soon as she knew! Come! Come!” She nudged Melanie to the cab and helped her inside.

  It was warm. Smelled like artificial air freshener.

  Melanie sagged as the weariness hit her like a sledgehammer.

  “Listen, lady,” the cabdriver said excitedly, “I can’t take you any farther so pay me my fare! You make me stop at a place like this! You didn’t say nothing about a baby! There’s no baby seat, ’kay! I could lose my license!”

  “Silence!” Ms. Wei bellowed. “This girl has saved taxi driver’s life and Ms. Wei’s life and the lives of everyone in Three Realms! So say nothing about licenses, fool! Drive Ms. Wei back home this instant!”

  Cowed, the cabdriver hunched his shoulders protectively around his ears. He glanced at them in the rearview mirror. “Crazies,” he muttered. “You better pay me!” he added indignantly.

  Ms. Wei turned to Melanie as the car roared forward. “Close Melanie’s eyes. Rest for now.”

  The warmth from the heater seeped into Melanie’s aching limbs. Her taut muscles relaxing, she felt like a puddle of water.

  It felt so good. To let go.

  She—

  TWENTY-ONE

  MELANIE DID NOT know if it was the knocking that woke her up or the rich smell of something delicious.

  Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.The sound came again.

  Something was bubbling. She could hear the buku bukusound of a savory simmer.

  The babbling chortle of a contented baby.

  Melanie had no idea where she was.

  Her head felt sluggish and empty at the same time. A yellow light shone through a window. She was lying on a bed, underneath a heavy comforter, in a filthy, ragged white dress, with soiled feet.

  What a mess she had made of the clean, crisp sheets! Her flare of concern was immediately swamped by her exhaustion. She lay flat atop the mattress like a jellyfish on land. Well, it was done with anyway.

  It was done with. . . .

  Her mother had said that. It is done.

  Melanie stared at the ceiling.

  Of course.

  She had made it back, and somehow Ms. Wei had known to come and pick her up.

  This time, a knock came on the door.

  “Come in,” Melanie rasped.

  Ms. Wei nudged backward into the room. She carried a tray that had four legs. Numerous small bowls and plates clattered, and the most enticing aromas filled the small room.

  Melanie’s stomach rumbled loudly. She sat up and yelped at the stiff pain that sang out all over her body.

  “A hot bath would help.” Ms. Wei narrowed her eyes. “Which first? Food or bath?”

  “Food!” Melanie cried eagerly. “Please,” she added. She slowly shifted back against the headrest and patted the quilt flat upon her legs.

  Ms. Wei set the tray on the bed, and Melanie’s eyes fairly popped out of her head with delight.

  The old woman began pointing to each dish. “Congee,” she said sternly. “Good for convalescence. Easy to digest and warms the Spirit. Clear chicken broth. Mustard greens. Egg tofu. Steamed sole. Only a little bit! Chrysanthemum greens. Jasmine tea. And”—her voice softened—“a little bit of cake.” She smiled and her eyes disappeared into happy creases. “Eat!” She frowned, stern once more. “Not too fast!”

  Melanie nodded. She picked up the bowl of congee and the ceramic spoon. A sprinkling of chopped green onions garnished the top. She scooped a small portion into her mouth, and the gentle savory flavors, subtle but rich, were marvelous. Salty, a hint of ginger and the rice slow-cooked until it was mealy and sweet. Her stomach squeezed painfully and she eagerly spooned another mouthful. A third and a fourth.

  She lowered the congee and picked up chopsticks. It was so difficult to choose! So many little plates of food.

  “Just a little bit at first,” Ms. Wei explained. “It startles the stomach if one eats too suddenly after nothing at all. After this small meal Melanie can have a proper supper later.”

  Melanie chewed on the pungent, slightly bittersweet stem of the mustard green. There were so many layers of taste and smell. If she closed her eyes the flavors were like sculptures upon her palate.

  Melanie stopped chewing. “What time is it?” she asked.

  “It’s eleven in the morning,” Ms. Wei said gently. “But of the second day. Melanie slept through the night and the entire next day. Today is Melanie’s third day back.”

  Melanie swallowed. “Oh,” she said. “Wow.”

  “So tired,” Ms. Wei sighed.

  Melanie nibbled on the steamed egg tofu. She looked around the room, slightly confused. She couldn’t stop feeling that there was something missing. . . .

  “The baby!” she gasped.

  “Shhhhh, shhhh,” Ms. Wei said reassuringly. “The baby is fine. Ms. Wei had supplies from the market and he’s no worse for wear. He slept as much as Melanie did! And lucky for Ms. Wei, who is too old to be getting up all hours to feed an infant.”

  “I’m sorry,” Melanie said. She looked down at the tray. “He’s not your baby to take care of. . . . ” She frowned. “But he’s not mine, either.”

  “This is so.” Ms. Wei nodded thoughtfully. “Well! Eat first. Melanie has much to tell. But there is no rush. Eat. Bathe. Then Melanie will tell a tale from the comfortable chair by the window. In the sunshine.”

  Melanie’s chin suddenly wobbled. “Yes,” she quavered. Smiled. “That’s a good idea.” She took a nibble of the steamed fish.

  She had never had such a fish in her entire life. “Ms. Wei,” she said solemnly, “this is the best meal I have ever eaten. Thank you very much.”

  “Ahhh!” Ms. Wei exclaimed, flapping her hand with embarrassment. “This is nothing! When Melanie is better Ms. Wei will make a great steamed lobster!”

  The autumn afternoon sun enfolded Melanie in a cozy cocoon of warmth. Melanie sat in one of the two easy chairs beside the west window, a blanket draped over her legs, her feet in soft slippers. The angle of the sun made long shadows stripe Ms. Wei’s living/workroom. The motes of dust caught in the bars of light shone like gold. In the distance Melanie could see the inlet and the bright orange cranes of the wharfs, looking like a herd of mechanical giraffes.

  Melanie stared wonderingly out the window. The colors of her Realm were so remarkable. She could not get over how many shades of green existed in one laurel bush. She had forgotten the depths, the multihued, vibrant shades of Life.

  Had she ever noticed?

  The nuances of moss, rich and lush upon the trunks of trees that lined the block. The coarse umbers of bark, highlighted with gray-blue lichen. Invisible birds twittered in a mess of blackberry brambles in an empty lot across the street. In front of the co-op apartment building a few doors down, a camellia was blooming its deep pink flowers, their yellow centers a miracle of brightness. She stared, mesmerized, at the cars that whizzed past, their tires splashing through small puddles of water. The vehicles seemed remarkable, marvelous in ridiculously bright shades of red, yellow, teal green, cobalt blue. The colors zinged into her brain as if they were sound, and the symphony was simply glorious.

  Melanie took a deep breath.

  It was so good to be still.

  How beautiful, Life . . .

  A gurgling mutter. A series of gasping breaths. A great nasal wail cracked the stillness of the afternoon.

  Holy crow! Melanie thought, eyes wide at the sheer volume of the baby’s cry. Before she could stand she heard footfalls tack, tack, tacking up the wooden stairs, and Ms. Wei burst into the room.

  “Yaaaaah!” Ms. Wei exclaimed. “Isn’t Baby so noisy? Ms. Wei never had children for a reason and almost had to break up with Nora Stein, Spirits bless her now and always, because of
it. And now baby comes into the house in Ms. Wei’s old age! Nora Stein’s Spirit must be laughing! Isn’t life unknowable!” The old woman ran to heat a bottle of milk in the kitchen and snatched up a cloth diaper and baby wipes on the way back.

  The baby was in a bassinet underneath the ornamental orange tree. Bawling loudly. Like he was normal . . .

  Melanie watched as Ms. Wei efficiently changed the diaper and carried the baby with her to the kitchen for the warmed bottle.

  “How do you know how to take care of babies?” Melanie asked. “If you and Nora Stein didn’t have one?”

  Ms. Wei sat in the second easy chair with the crying infant in her arms. She slipped the nipple of the baby bottle into the baby’s eager mouth.

  “Ahhhhh,” Melanie and Ms. Wei both sighed as it became quiet once more.

  Melanie looked at him. There were teardrops stuck in his eyelashes and his eyelids began drooping with satisfaction as he sucked the formula hungrily.

  He looked awfully sweet, Melanie thought.

  “Ms. Wei helped her mother raise siblings,” Ms. Wei explained in a quiet voice. “Ms. Wei was the oldest and had eight sisters and brothers.”

  “Eight!” Melanie exclaimed.

  “Yes. Eight strong, smart, stubborn siblings. By the time Ms. Wei was sixteen years old she had had her fill of infants, cute though they are.” Ms. Wei stared down at the drowsy baby. “What’s this one’s name?”

  “I’ve been thinking of him as Baby G,” Melanie admitted. “He used to be Mr. Glueskin, the evil thing that was tormenting my parents! But he was born again. I don’t think he’s the same any more.”

  “Hohhhhh.” Ms. Wei nodded.

  They listened to the hungry sucking of the baby. The afternoon sun was warm and comforting.

  “Ms. Wei?” Melanie finally asked.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Do you think Baby G will be okay, now?”

  Ms. Wei looked up, her forehead slightly furrowed.

  “What I mean is—” Melanie’s voice cracked. She cleared her throat and swallowed hard. “What if he turns into Mr. Glueskin again? Only here. In our Realm instead,” she whispered anxiously.

  Ms. Wei stared at Melanie for several seconds, then shifted her gaze to the baby.

  Baby G’s eyes were closed. He was frowning with concentration as he focused on draining the bottle of formula. His cheeks were flushed rosy with warmth and his two chubby fists were clenched.

  He smelled like milk and baby powder.

  A slight whistling sound. Baby G had finished the bottle and was sucking only air. Ms. Wei pulled the nipple out of his mouth and raised him to her shoulder. She began gently patting his back.

  “Rest easy,” Ms. Wei said gently. “Baby G is no longer trapped in Half World. He is at the beginning of something else. In a new cycle. He cannot become the Glueskin that Melanie knew. That cycle is broken.”

  Baby G gave a long, low burp. Then he farted.

  Melanie could not help but giggle.

  They sat in silence for several minutes. Just the soothing tap, tapping of Ms. Wei’s gentle hand on Baby G’s back.

  A thought occurred to Melanie. “How did you know to come pick me up? At just the right time?”

  Ms. Wei’s eyes widened dramatically. “That night! All the newborn babies. Every single one of them in the entire world. They all began to cry at the same time! Ms. Wei could hear them in the neighborhood, the noise filling the entire city. It lasted a few minutes. Then it stopped! Then, it appeared on Ms. Wei’s table!”

  Melanie blinked, confused. “What appeared on the table?” Did she mean one of the babies who had cried?

  Ms. Wei gestured with her chin, because she was still holding the baby. “Go! If Melanie has enough strength. Look on the table.”

  Melanie couldn’t stop the groan of pain when she rose to her feet. Every muscle in her body ached and throbbed and she awkwardly hobbled to the table.

  A bar of golden light cast a beautiful glow upon the grand dark cherry-red tabletop. Ms. Wei had cleared all of her research clutter from the surface.

  There was only a single book.

  It looked ancient, the cover blackened and cracked with age. There was no title or script of any kind, only a slightly embossed circular emblem. It looked like the yin-yang symbol, but instead of two pieces that nestled perfectly together to form a circle of dark and light there were three, the pieces made of black, white, and gray. . . .

  Melanie’s mouth slowly fell open. “Is that The Book of the Realms?” she asked hoarsely.

  Ms. Wei solemnly nodded her head. “The writing was like the little scrap of magic paper from my archives!” she whispered. “This book appeared. There was a sound, like a big deep bell, but the sound was silent. It rippled, certainly, across the entire universe.”

  Melanie slowly nodded her head. She had felt it. Just after her mother’s voice had said, It is done. . . .

  “Ms. Wei read the book while Melanie slept. It told of how the three entwined Realms had become divided and the woes that followed. It spoke of a prophecy of a child, born with Life in a Realm without it. And how a brave girl walked into Half World to face great evil. How she stopped evil, without doing evil herself ... and in doing so, reunited the divided Realms into balance once more.” Ms. Wei’s eyes shone with respect and admiration.

  Melanie’s ears burned. Ms. Wei meant her! The book had told her story. Melanie’s heart leapt.

  Wait a second, she thought. The book was in the Archives of Unfinished Books . . . The last one-third had been blank pages.

  “Did you finish the book?” Melanie asked hoarsely. “From beginning to end?”

  Ms. Wei nodded solemnly. “Ms. Wei has learned so much. Near the end, it explained why all the newborn infants in the world began to cry. It was all of the Spirits who remained, long overdue, finally returning to Flesh. Those in Half World finally became Spirit. And we, in this Realm, are no longer trapped in the limitations of Flesh. Melanie, there is ever much more to understand. Ms. Wei will read this book her entire life to comprehend the interconnected workings of the Realms!”

  Melanie thoughtfully stroked the cover of the book. A funny little tingle shot up her fingers. It was not unpleasant.

  She did not open it. She was not quite ready to read about her story, as if it were someone else. The experiences were still too close.

  She still needed to feel through it all.

  Melanie thoughtfully returned to her seat and wrapped the blanket around her legs. She stared out the window. The book, here in this Realm, completed. It was unfinished no longer. All the babies crying . . . Ms. Wei had said it felt like a great silent bell rang across the universe. It must have been at the same moment when her parents had turned into light. Her mother’s deep red light, and her father pale lavender, flying upward . . .

  Melanie pressed her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry!” she blurted, as realization and guilt swamped her. “I must have dropped it! And Jade Rat helped me so many times. I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for Jade Rat. She was your ancestor’s companion rat. Her name was Gao Zhen Xi. . . . ” Tears began to fill her eyes.

  “No, no!” Ms. Wei sounded alarmed. “Melanie must not apologize!” She carried the sleeping baby back to the bassinet. The old woman turned to an ornately carved box on her bookshelf and carefully unwrapped something from a piece of cloth. Ms. Wei returned to the chairs and held out her closed fist.

  Melanie, fingers trembling, opened her palm.

  The jade amulet felt slightly warm against her skin.

  The missing piece that had been broken off in Mr. Glueskin’s penthouse had somehow been made whole. The rat and its rough details were intact.

  The stone had turned into a deep dark red.

  Melanie stared and stared as her thoughts raced back to those last moments. It is done, her mother’s voice had said. And then a small portion of her mother’s light had flown to Baby G and not her.

  That part of her mother’s Sp
irit . . . it had not gone into the baby. It had joined the jade amulet, merging with the stone, so that she could return to the Realm of Flesh!

  Her mother had kept her promise.

  Melanie clamped the amulet against her chest. After several minutes she lowered the stone so that it lay cradled in her palms, upon her lap. Sunbeams shone through the stone, highlighting the ears and nose, the sweep of her tail.

  The dark center began to glow. The color was so intense, so much like a burning ember that Melanie had to fight the urge to drop it.

  The jade amulet began to shimmer, as if the atoms were breaking free from their bonds. Its matter shivered, and it flared momentarily into a blinding light. When the glare receded, a fur-and-whiskers dark red rat sat very still upon Melanie’s palms.

  “Oh!” Melanie and Ms. Wei gasped simultaneously.

  The rat opened its eyes and stretched, baring her long incisors. She sat up on her haunches and scrubbed her whiskers before briskly stroking over both ears.

  Melanie’s heart raced. She swallowed hard. “Can you talk?” she whispered hoarsely.

  “It takes a while,” a droll voice muttered from the floor. “You have no idea what it’s like to come back like that for the first time.”

  “Uh!” Melanie yelped with shock at the unexpected voice. That it came from the ground directly behind her.

  “Bad manners!” Ms. Wei said crossly. “Apologize for startling Melanie! Why did not Ms. Wei’s mother give her a dog!”

  Melanie carefully peered around the back of her cushy chair. In a wedge of shadow, curled around a heat vent, sprawled a fat white cat. He ignored her completely, intently licking the pink pads of his front paw.

  “He talks? Like Jade Rat?” Melanie asked. “Is he really an amulet, too?”

  “How is anyone ‘really’ more one thing than another?” the cat scoffed from between his toes. “Is a table ‘really’ more furniture than wood?”

  “Silence, Cat!” Ms. Wei commanded. “If you have nothing helpful to say, turn back to stone, real or not!”

  The cat sniffed, and raised his hind leg, straight up, to lick his bum.

  Melanie scowled. It seemed like some sort of cat insult. She turned back to gaze upon the dark red rat. “Are you still Jade Rat?” Melanie whispered.