Grace

“Hi Kasey, happy birthday! What did Mummy get you for your birthday?”

“I don’t know yet, I haven’t opened my present. I have to go to school,” came a sad reply.

“Alright, Uncle will be out of town for a while but I’ll see you this weekend, ok? Love you sweetie. Big kiss, hugs too.”

“Yay! Bye, Uncle Ryan.” Kasey’s round face lit up again.

Ryan ended the video call, staring at the orange dirt road ahead of him leading up to a lone bungalow on a hill. It had taken him the better part of the morning to find this farmstead in the rural town in Bau, some 80 kilometres outside of Kuching city. Now that he was here, he pulled an envelope from his bag and dialed the number written on it.

“Hello, this is Ryan, I’m from the agency. I’m here for Miss Grace.”

“Right, hold on yeah, I’ll open the door,” said a woman on the other side of the line.

He took a look at the compound. The house was big, old but well-built. It had large windows, and wooden infrastructure at the upper level.

It was a typical smallholders’ farm which could easily go up to more than 10 acres. Within sight of the house were a line of pepper vines, a fish pond, and he could see a well-worn path leading to an orchard.

A truck parked in the front told him that his clients were also growing oil palm, typical of rural folk. But it was the woodlot of Tecoma trees behind the house which caught his attention. Dusted in pink blooms, they reminded him of the Sakura trees in Japan.

A petite woman with thick black hair greeted Ryan. She introduced herself as Maria, a cousin who took care of Grace and the general housekeeping.

“She’s waiting upstairs.”

She led him past the tiled veranda and through the living room, which was bright and airy. Even though the house was old, it was immaculate. The white tiles were clean and spotless.  An intricately carved sofa set to the side awaited guests, and a large painting of an orchard of Tecoma trees hung in the living room.

Ryan noticed no family portrait or pictures decorating the place though. He was trying to get an idea of how the home owners looked like, especially his client.

“I’m sure you have been briefed on her case right? Her situation?” Maria asked, pausing in front of the painting.

“Yes, I was told,” he replied. He tried to recall what he read from Grace’s file. “She’s had her medication? How’s the mood today?”

Maria nodded. “I’ve given her meds this morning. The past few days were alright. She’s in a good mood today but insisted on the wheelchair.”

Grace had a fall a few months back and had difficulty walking. The agency that Ryan worked for previously cared for her father before his demise about a year ago. He was replacing a colleague to help with Grace’s recuperation.

Her medical records stated that Grace had developed a mental disorder after falling into a depression following her father’s death. She had just turned 42.

Ryan’s colleague, Eve, had requested to be replaced after Grace developed a hostile attitude towards her.

“She talks to herself often?” he continued.

“The hallucinations vary, depending on her mood… but it’s worsened since the fall. Your colleague just ignores her but sometimes, she plays along. Grace doesn’t like it when your colleague tries to explain that there’s no one there and that she’s hallucinating,” Maria said.

She added that Grace could be a handful at times and would complain of pain in the middle of the night.

“We prepared a room for you in case you need to spend the night, since the city is far. She’s fallen from her bed twice, once drove her wheelchair into the wall and at one time, we saw her outside in the middle of the night by the trees.”

Maria said she also noticed bruises on Eve’s neck and arms, a result from a tussle with Grace.

“Alright, let’s see her then.”

Grace was sitting in her wheelchair when they came in. Wearing a floral peach dress, her long black hair was parted slightly to the side and combed down over her shoulders. Her red lipstick contrasted against her pale olive skin, and pearl earrings dangled from her ears.

She was poised, legs crossed, her hands resting on her thigh. Ryan could sense a proud woman, sophisticated, elegant. Brittle.

Surprised to see her sitting so elegantly, Maria asked: “How did you get dressed so fast? Weren’t you in pain and unable to get up just now?”

Grace ignored her, scanning her new physiotherapist from head to toe instead.

Ryan started to introduce himself, but Grace cut in.

“He’s a bit on the chubby side, but good looking. What do you think?” she said, turning her head to the window on her right. She then burst into laughter.

Ryan looked at Maria, who shook her head ever so slightly, telling him to act natural.

Just as quickly, Grace stopped laughing, her black-rimmed eyes narrowing in her pale pixie-like face. “I don’t need any physiotherapy today, I’m fine. In fact, we are going for a walk later. You can go about and do your own thing.”

“If you feel fine, I’ll let you be but we still have to do your physio, sooner or later,” Ryan said, recovering.

“Very well then,” she replied. She placed her hands on the wheels meaningfully then, clicked at them impatiently when they were slow to move out of the way and then wheeled herself out.

Ryan spent the morning studying her case, observing Grace from afar as Maria took her on a stroll through the garden. Noticing Ryan watching, Grace stood up and asked for her walking stick. He chuckled at her behaviour.

Initially, the estate had her checked-in at the agency’s highly rated retirement home for the duration of her physiotherapy but she refused to leave the house. Maria stayed at the house with her, while the farming business was monitored by her brother Joshua, who lived nearby.

After lunch, Ryan spent some time talking with Grace, partly to get to know her, and partly to take any tensions out of the way.

He learned that Grace’s father was a civil servant before taking up modern farming upon his retirement. Her mother had died when she was young and she had no siblings. Grace had been helping her father run their palm oil business and continued to do so in the past year despite the state of her mental health.

She attended secondary education in Singapore and continued her tertiary education in Australia before returning to Sarawak after graduation. The father passed away from a rare blood disease after being ill for about two years.

They talked for hours, covering local socioeconomic and development, politics, modern technologies and even films. She also mentioned her love for painting. He was surprised that Grace was quite open and candid in telling her life’s story and with her quick mind, considering her mental illness.

Suddenly, she hissed:  “We’re talking here. Don’t bother us.”

After a moment’s silence, she broke down in tears. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”

Wiping her tears, she laughed frantically, and then in a quiet voice: “Don’t disturb the man, he’s here to help. He’s not taking me away.”

Ryan watched the one-sided conversation in silence. He was thinking of getting up from his chair to look for Maria when she entered.

“Time for dinner.” Turning to Ryan, she mouthed: “She needs to take her meds soon.”

“Alright, we’ll pick this up tomorrow. And we will start on your physiotherapy as well,” Ryan said.

Grace nodded, smiling. The storm of emotions had died down, and she had seemed won over by Ryan’s conversation and mild manners.

Ryan was set up in a room downstairs. As he went to unpack, he saw that all his clothes were already arranged nicely in the cupboard; his handphone charging by the bedside table; his wallet, watch and other personal belongings already on the dresser.

‘Wow, Maria has really gone the extra mile to make me comfortable,’ he thought to himself as he went to take a shower. It was while he was brushing his teeth that he saw a faint outline of the words, 'Ave Maria" on the mirror. Shrugging it off as the antics of a bored house guest, he continued to get ready for bed.

Ryan could see the shadow of the Tecoma trees from his window. It was a full moon and the skies were clear that night. He slept early, thanks to the cool breeze one usually enjoyed in the village.