As Sweet as Honey

52




I had let the cat out of bag, so to speak. Coming home from the beach, I’d asked Nalani if Oscar had returned, not realizing my aunt was steps away.

“Why would you think I would not want to know?” shouted Aunt Meterling.

“You’d worry needlessly—and look, he’s home, safe and sound.”

“Simon, what if you hadn’t found him? Was I just supposed to be twiddling my thumbs while you act the hero?”

“I was hardly acting the hero. We went out to search for him, that’s all, and we found him.”

“And I was headed in the right direction,” muttered Oscar, who looked as if he knew he should probably slip away, since the attention was no longer on his having left home without permission.

“You! I expected more of you, Oscar! You know better than to go anywhere by yourself!” she said.

“But Mum, I had help from this man—”

“What man?”

“He was so nice—he was even wearing this clean white suit and—” Oscar frowned—“and a pink tie, like he was dressed up for something special.”

Meterling seemed to weave on her feet.

“Mum! He showed me the way to get home! He helped me!”

“He helped you? He spoke to you?”

“Did you know about this?” she asked Simon.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Why do you keep repeating this? I worry. I’m a mother. For godsakes, Simon!”

“C’mon, Meterling, he’s just a boy, that’s what boys do, they explore,” said Simon.

“But he saw Archer!”

We all stared at her.

Now Meterling did sit down in a chair, and Ajay went to get her some water.

“Mum, who’s Archer?”

“Oscar, sit down a minute,” said Simon.

We should have all left the room, I suppose, but it didn’t occur to us. We remained rooted.

“Oscar, your mother was once married to my cousin, a wonderful man named Archer. Archer Forster,” said Simon.

Meterling drank the water gratefully.

“The Craywick house actually belonged to Archer, and he left it to your mum. Archer was your—biological dad, but he died before you were even born. I met your mother just before you arrived, and we got married.”

Oscar thought a minute.

“Am I a bastard, then?” he asked.

“No!” we all said in unison.

“And how do you know such a word anyway?”

“That’s what Asha’s dad calls her puppy because they don’t know who his father was.”

“Well, Archer was your father.”

“Okay.” Oscar sighed. “But why are you mad about the man on the beach? Because I’m not supposed to talk to strangers? But I had to, or I would have stayed lost.”

“When your father died, he was wearing a suit and tie just like you described. I think it was him.”

“Cool!”

“Well, be that as it may, it still gives me a start. He shouldn’t be here—he should have long gone! He wasn’t supposed to ever return.”

“You’ve seen him, too, Mum? You’ve seen the ghost of—Archer?”

Meterling looked miserable. She seemed to recollect herself in a moment.

“You are too little to go wandering off on your own. Anything could have happened!”

“Not so little,” Oscar muttered, almost involuntarily.

At which Sanjay ushered Oscar out of the room, out of harm’s way, since Meterling began to look as if she were going to say more on the subject.

We were all silent now. The secret had been let out, and Oscar seemed to take it well. But this news about Archer’s ghost was exciting. What did it mean? What did the ghost want? And would we see it too?


The wind blew warm air, ruffling the palm fronds. The moon was in first quarter, a thick crescent in the sky.

“It looks farther away tonight,” said Rasi.

“We could go up on the roof.”

“Do you get the feeling Meterling thinks this ghost is going to snatch Oscar away?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really believe in it, anyway,” said Rasi.

“I do. There are always spooky things going on, Rasi, a lot more than we know.”

“Science fiction. C’mon, let’s go to the roof.”



To cool down, Meterling went to pick lemons. There was a tree located at the far end of the garden. She still felt shaken at the idea Oscar had so casually sneaked out of the compound. And Archer—what was he doing back, after all those years? Why did he pick this time to return? A ghost who desired what he couldn’t have: his boy. Would he dare try to take him away from her? Taking him would only mean that Oscar had to—no, she wouldn’t think such thoughts. She plucked some fruit; she would slice it open, grate some ginger, and make some tea. She’d eaten some hot bajis at lunchtime with small cut green chilies, and her stomach felt a little queasy. The lemon felt good in her hand.

And there he was, up in the branches in his white suit and pink tie.

“I came back to Pi,” he said, though it was redundant to say so.

Meterling said nothing.

“I’d forgotten how cold England could be,” he continued.

“You can feel the temperature?”

“I can smell it.” He shivered.

“Why did you come back? Why are you here now?”

“You mean since that Diwali party?”

“Yes. Why on earth have you returned?”

“This is my home, Meterling, or at least it was. I’m better off on the whole where I began, and now that I’ve gratified some of my longing, I can finally reincarnate.”

“Gratified? Reincarnate?”

“I can’t hope for union with Ishvara just yet.”

“Archer—”

“Don’t be annoyed. I just wanted to see you one more time, make sure you were being looked after, make sure that idiot Simon loved you enough.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“I hoped he wouldn’t be enough for you, but that would just prolong my existence.”

“I am making all of this up in my own head, aren’t I? To compensate for my guilt—which frankly, doesn’t even exist—in marrying your cousin, for remarrying at all. Archer, too much time has passed for us to even have this conversation.”

“But I need the conversation. I’ll always be with you, rooted in a corner of your heart.”

“But Oscar? Oscar needs the chance to live. You can’t take him.”

“Take him? Meterling, you’re mad. And anyway, even if I could, you should know that the longing of a Bhuta remains unfulfilled. That’s the tragedy of our lot. And that’s why some living people are like ghosts—deep in unfulfilled longing. But I met him, Meti. I met my son. He spoke to me. He’s smart, and sweet, and trusting.”

Meterling looked away.

“Will you find a priest or someone to help you reincarnate?” she asked.

“I think there’s one on Biswan Road, but I might go further. I need to ask you something. When he’s ready, when he asks, tell him more about me. I don’t think he will mind much, really, my—your—boy.”

“Our boy, Archer.” Meterling’s eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t cry, Meti. We can’t change what’s already happened. You could never have prevented my dying—no one could have, not even me.”

“I wish you could have known Oscar—know him. I wish we could live simultaneous lives.”

“But we can’t.”

“I was so angry at you.”

“It’s fine, it’s all perfectly fine. I guess I was angry, too. Death must do that.”

“I’m in love with Simon, you know.”

“I know you are. Of course I was jealous.”

“We didn’t plan any of this.”

“None of it, my dear. Well—” Archer brushed himself off a bit, and straightened his tie. “Well, it must be time.”

“Time?”

“I’ve seen Oscar, I’ve seen you—it’s time to go for good. Maybe I am reconciled enough to go peacefully into the next life.”

“Archer—thank you.”

“Goodbye, my dear, dear Meterling. And don’t ever wilt.”

Ever so slowly, as my aunt Meterling watched, he turned on his heel, and walked away until he disappeared. Only the garden was before her, only the lemon tree.

Somewhere inside, a door closed, and a window opened. Meterling turned to go back in.