San Francisco State University - Franciscan Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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for the old man was so particular that he never allowed any one to do his chores for him. Right now I hear none of Old Pang's noises. All I hear is the confounded ticking of the alarm clock and the dripping of the faulty faucet in my room. These noises never bothered me before, but now they have made me afraid to turn around to fix them for fear I might see 'the someone or something that I imagine behind me. Damn it! If only I hadn't put my radio in hock last month, I could turn on some music at full blast and cover up the noises I should be hearing any minute now. Better go slow on the cigarettesgl can't get any more until tomorrow. No, no more black coffee either. No more cigarettes and no more black cof- fee until tomorrow, and tomorrow seems so far away. Funny, how time can play tricks on you like this. Tomorrow is just a couple of hours and a few winks away, and yet the couple of hours seem stretched and the few winks refuse to come. Funnier still, how I can lie to the others and kid myself about not believing in Old Pang's return. Heaven knows I don't want to believe, and yet some part of me inside wants to be on the safe side and asks, What if he should return? If Old Pang should return tonight and know that I am at home, he would surely call on me first, for I am still his debtor. I still owe him back rent for a couple of months. He didn't have a chance to get after me for it before he entered the hospital. If he should drop in to ask me for the rent now, I would be sunk. Not only would I not be able to pay him, but I would be so scared I wouldn't know what to do or what to say. If it wasn't for the rent, I would welcome Old Pang's call. What has a fellow whois down on his luck got to lose? Why, Qld Pang might even change my luck for me. He might bring me a few extra spots in the next drawing of the lottery, or he might show me where he had hidden some of his money before he died. Now I hear a sudden gust of wind rattle my door, but I had heard no footsteps. I guess the dead do not walk, they just float from place to place. I keep telling myself that it isn't .... it can't be Old Pang. My every hair seems to curl up and I find my heart thumping away so loudly that I can count its every irregular beat. Then the wind beats upon Old Pang's door, and I hear a soft thump on the floor outside. I feel a chill begin in my insides, run up my spine, and end in a cold shiver about the shoulders. I am half undressed already, so I jump into my bed and pull the covers over my head. I lie thus covered for five, ten, fifteen minutes. Then I hear the street door open and close. Footsteps, soft and gentle footsteps at a brisk pace, sound up the stairs. They are ,Ioe's footsteps. Joe, who lives 28

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Wong the fortune teller about proper death rites, Cas in the old country? after her father died in the hospital. I can almost hear Wong explaining the time chart in the Chinese almanac to the illiterate Pang Shee: .... You said your father was born at nine o'clock in the morning. That is under the sign of thetiger. And you said your father passed away at three o'clock in the afternoon. That is under the sign of the ox. Now let me see .... The tiger and the ox meet at the time of the dog, and that is between eight and ten in the evening. You may expect your father's spirit to come home for his last hearty meal and worldly possessions sometime between eight and ten in the evening, ten days after his death. Pang Shee knew well her duties as daughter in matters of death rites. She had come to her father's home early this morning. She had prepared a three course meal and left it out on the table for 'her father's return on this night. She set out on the table everything she thought her father would want--the old man's best suit of clothes, a new white dress shirt, a blue tie, Old Pang's black umbrella, his brown hat, a pair of white socks, and a pair of black shoes. Then Pang Shee burned the incense in a pail of sand and left. She was certain that her father's spirit would come home tonightg she was even more certain that her father's spirit would leave satisfied. 1 It is nine o'clock now, and still I have not heard' any sound of Old Pang's return. They said that if I stayed home, I might be able to hear the noises Old Pang makes, the rattling of dishes and the clanging of pots and pans. And I believe that Old Pang would make such noises too, - .N - . ....1....w,. - A lt- , g f if-VN ' , . K KJ 4 ' 4 if ,QS 'T ipl ' o ' - f,,-- I CQ' XX .5 W , t t aaa,-,gf X j l 5' tr' 1 ' V XEXN- y ' yf V3-V Tj Wi x , . ,.,,,,,,.,,, My kg M MMR ' A l Z 27

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across the hall, is coming home from work. ,Ioe stops at Old Pang's door, fixes something, then moves down the hall to his room. Joe is a Christiang he is not afraid, and he doesn't believe about Old Pang's return tonight. I hear Joe fit his key into his key hole and the clicking sounds of the unsnappinglock accompanied by the turning of a door knob. ,Ioe? I ask, as I pull the covers down to my chin. Yeah, what is it? comes the voice through my transom. Oh, nothing. I look at my alarm clock which says nine-fifty. I was wondering if you have the correct time. Yeah, it's .... five minutes to ten. Thanks, Joe, did I hear you stop by Old Pang's door? Yeah, his wreath fell to the floor, so I picked it up and pinned it back on again. Thanks, Good-night. I hear Joe say Good-night, and his door close. I pull the covers over my head again for another ten minutes and the rest of the night. I am leaving my light on until tomorrow morning. ' -James Lee. 'I , Q25 il- HE CLQIIVXS Hts xsoumiv sito muussil wyarri 29 'l ...J