The Faithful Ghost
Hung Yi Kuo, Group 3: Fiction, Renaissance College
t was dark. Raindrops were knocking on the windows and pounding on the roof of the coffee shop.
Lightning struck, illuminating the quiet and gloomy store. Then the thunder rumbled, sending an
involuntary shiver down my spine. I glanced at my watch. It read 6:34PM. I smiled to myself and took off
my apron, folding and putting it in a corner, waiting for the my co-worker to arrive.
Ding ding ding! Bells jingled as Li Qin rushed through the door, her wet, black hair dripping rain
water onto the floor.
“
Xiao Chun!” she called before she reached the counter. “My mother called and said something about
getting a coffin for my father! Then she hung up on me! Can you please cover my shift so I can check up on
them?” Li Qin begged, tears welling up in her huge doe eyes.
“
Of course! How can I say no to those wide, innocent orbs of yours?” I teased. “You could’ve just
called me instead of walking here though. You’re sopping wet.” I found a towel in my bag, and threw it at Li
Qin. She said a quick thanks, wrapping it around herself instantly.
“
I’m really sorry,” she apologized. “You might want to tell your two rascals about it though, isn’t the
babysitter supposed to leave soon?”
“
I suppose you’re right,” I nodded. “I’ll call you a taxi first though, you’ll get hypothermia if you keep
running in the rain.” Li Qin nodded.
A taxi pulled up shortly after. I waved goodbye to Li Qin, tying my apron back on again. I dialed home
with my battered phone. My 12 year-old picked up.
“
Qing Mai? I need to cover Auntie Li Qin’s shift. Can you tell the babysitter to make dinner for you
and Qing Ling?” I asked.
“
Okay, Mama. When are you coming home? It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Qing Mai said
anxiously.
“
Don’t worry sweetheart, Mama’ll be back home soon.”
“
Be safe, Mama,” she said softly before hanging up.
“
Can you drive a bit faster?” I pleaded.
“
It’s the fastest I can go without getting us into an accident, miss,” The driver replied, his eyes looking
apologetically into mine from the rearview mirror. I nodded, unconsciously nibbling on my lower lip as I looked
out the window. Li Qin came back at eight o’clock, looking quite disgruntled. Apparently, her mother had
meant a muffin, not a coffin. I left soon after, laughing at Li Qin’s mistake. I made up my mind to find another
babysitter. I had I called home to find that my previous one had left our apartment with her boyfriend, leaving
my children alone. Ever since my husband left us two years ago, I had to start from scratch, working in
numerous shops in hopes of supporting our family of three. I took shifts in the coffee shop, a boutique and a fast
food restaurant.
The taxi pulled up in front of our apartment building. I gave the driver a few notes, telling him to keep
the change. I ran into the apartment, attempting to shield myself from the rain with my arm and ran up to the
sixth floor as fast as my legs could carry me. I rang the doorbell to our flat, not bothering to dig for my keys, my
heart beating wildly against my chest.
“
Who is it?” I heard my three year-old daughter ask. I smiled.
“
It’s Mama, open the door, Qing Ling,” I called out.
“
How do I know it’s Mama?” Qing Mai’s voice asked suspiciously.
“
I have a passion for reading Chinese folk tales, and no one else knows,” I laughed. The door opened to
reveal the welcoming faces of my two children. I ruffled their hair apologetically.
“
It’s getting late now. You should go to bed, Qing Ling,” I said, looking at my watch as I dumped my
bag on the couch. She nodded obediently, heading to our bedroom. Our flat consisted of a kitchen, a bathroom, a
living room and a bedroom that was big enough to fit two beds and a closet.
“
I’ll go tuck her in,” Qing Mai said, following Qing Ling. I heaved a sigh. Having three jobs was
unbearable, but if it meant that I could have a good income to provide for my family, I’d do it. I rubbed my tired
eyes. I walked through the tiny flat, entering our bedroom. Qing Ling was laying down on her bed with Qing
Mai sitting on the side of it.
“
Bed time story! Please? A short one is okay!” Qing Ling begged, tugging on her sister’s sleeve.
“
Let’s tell her the Great Wall of China story, shall we?” I sat down on the opposite side of the bed,
pulling the covers up to Qing Ling’s neck. She nodded excitedly. She loved the bed time stories I used to tell
I