Mara woke because Chibi’s foot was on her face.

Again.

She opened one eye.

A dirty heel rested against her cheek.

MARA:
“Chibi.”

Nothing.

MARA:
“Chibi.”

He made a noise like a dying goat.

Mara shoved his leg away.

CHIBI:
“What?”

MARA:
“Your feet.”

CHIBI:
“They’re attached.”

MARA:
“To me, apparently.”

Chibi opened one eye.

CHIBI:
“Morning.”

MARA:
“No.”

He closed it again.

CHIBI:
“Good.”

Mara sat up.

The deck looked terrible.

Cups. Plates. Blankets. Boots.

Sean was asleep under a coat.

The remains of the feast were everywhere.

But the ship was quiet.

Too quiet.

People were standing near the rail, staring towards the quay.

The captain looked as though someone had cut the ropes holding him upright.

His daughter was crying.

And on the quay stood a woman.

Just a woman.

Mara frowned.

MARA:
“Who’s that?”

Chibi sat up.

CHIBI:
“Don’t know.”

MARA:
“Everyone else looks like they do.”

They moved closer.

Some sailors whispered.

One prayed.

Another held a knife.

Eljara stood very close to that one.

Probably not by accident.

Mara watched the woman.

She did not look frightening.

That bothered her.

Scary things were supposed to be helpful.

Teeth.

Claws.

Blood.

Something obvious.

This woman only looked sad.

And tired.

And happy.

All at once.

Then the captain’s daughter whispered:

“Mama.”

Mara stopped.

MARA:
“That’s her mother?”

CHIBI:
“Sounds like it.”

MARA:
“But her mother is dead.”

CHIBI:
“Sounds like that too.”

Mara stared at the woman.

Morning light touched her normally.

No glow.

No floating.

No chains.

MARA:
“She doesn’t look dead.”

CHIBI:
“What does dead look like?”

Mara thought.

MARA:
“More dead.”

Chibi nodded.

CHIBI:
“Good point.”

The daughter moved towards the woman.

The woman raised a hand.

Then waited.

She did not grab her.

Did not rush forward.

Just waited.

MARA:
“She’s being polite.”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

MARA:
“Monsters aren’t usually polite.”

CHIBI:
“Some are.”

Mara stared at him.

CHIBI:
“Better monsters.”

MARA:
“That’s worse.”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

The daughter touched the woman’s hand.

Nothing happened.

Nobody screamed.

Nobody exploded.

Nobody turned into bones.

Then the captain joined them.

Slowly.

His daughter took one of his hands and one of the woman’s.

The three stood together.

MARA:
“So it is her.”

CHIBI:
“Maybe.”

Mara groaned.

MARA:
“He keeps saying maybe.”

Stacy heard her.

STACY:
“He has that problem.”

CHIBI:
“It’s useful.”

MARA:
“It’s annoying.”

STACY:
“Those can both be true.”

Mara pointed towards the woman.

MARA:
“Is she really dead?”

Stacy hesitated.

STACY:
“She was believed to have died twelve years ago.”

MARA:
“That’s not what I asked.”

STACY:
“I know.”

“Did she die?”

“Probably.”

Mara slowly turned towards Chibi.

CHIBI:
“I didn’t say anything.”

MARA:
“Don’t.”

She looked back at Stacy.

MARA:
“If she died, how is she here?”

STACY:
“I don’t know.”

Mara liked how quickly that answer came.

“Could she be someone else?”

“Yes.”

“Someone who looks like her?”

“Yes.”

“A trick?”

“Yes.”

“Magic?”

Stacy paused.

STACY:
“I don’t know.”

MARA:
“So yes?”

STACY:
“No.”

“So no?”

“No.”

Mara frowned.

STACY:
“That’s what not knowing means.”

MARA:
“Adults make not knowing very complicated.”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

The captain suddenly raised his voice.

“Where were you?”

Mara turned.

The woman’s name was Ana.

The captain looked angry now.

Or frightened and angry.

Adults rarely seemed interested in choosing just one.

“I buried you.”

Ana answered quietly.

“I know.”

“I held her while she cried.”

His daughter looked down.

“Where were you?”

Ana said:

“I don’t know.”

Mara watched the captain.

MARA:
“He’s angry with her.”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

“But she died.”

Chibi looked at her.

MARA:
“How can you be angry with someone for dying?”

He thought.

CHIBI:
“Maybe dying doesn’t finish everything.”

Mara looked at the three adults.

MARA:
“Shouldn’t it?”

CHIBI:
“Did it?”

Clearly not.

Ana remembered a fever.

A room.

Her husband’s hand.

Her daughter singing.

Then nothing.

Until last night.

Voices.

Music.

Names.

The sea.

And home.

Mara swallowed.

MARA:
“Did the party bring her home?”

Chibi looked at the wreckage of the feast.

Then at the sea.

CHIBI:
“Maybe.”

MARA:
“I said stop.”

CHIBI:
“I forgot.”

Nearby, people were trying to decide what Ana was.

Ghost.

Spirit.

Ancestor.

Lwa.

Devil.

The older woman from shore stopped them.

“Do not use a name you do not understand simply because something strange happened.”

Then she looked at the sailor who had said devil.

“And do not use yours for the same reason.”

Mara smiled.

MARA:
“I like her.”

CHIBI:
“She tells adults off.”

MARA:
“Yes.”

CHIBI:
“Good reason.”

Mara approached her.

MARA:
“Is Ana a ghost?”

Several adults stared at her.

The older woman did not.

“I don’t know.”

Excellent.

MARA:
“What do you think?”

The woman considered Ana.

“Today?”

Mara nodded.

“Someone’s mother.”

Mara frowned.

MARA:
“That’s not what she is.”

“Isn’t it?”

Mara looked at Ana.

Then at her daughter.

MARA:
“So she can be dead and still be her mother?”

“Yes.”

“Even if she isn’t really there?”

“Yes.”

“And if she is really there?”

The woman smiled.

“Still yes.”

That was unfairly simple.

Chibi stepped closer.

CHIBI:
“What if she’s dangerous?”

The woman looked at him.

“Then you learn that too.”

“How?”

“Watch.”

“Ask.”

“Listen.”

“Do not give everything before you know.”

Mara nodded.

That sounded sensible.

Ana looked towards the ship.

For one moment, Mara realised something else.

Ana was frightened too.

MARA:
“Why is she scared?”

The older woman looked around at the sailors.

Some armed.

Some praying.

Some whispering names for Ana.

Some already deciding what she was.

“Wouldn’t you be?”

Mara considered.

MARA:
“Yes.”

Then Ana said:

“I don’t know what I am now.”

Even Chibi stopped eating.

MARA:
“Can people stop knowing what they are?”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Sometimes.”

“What do you do?”

Chibi looked towards Ana.

CHIBI:
“Find things you still know.”

MARA:
“Like what?”

He pointed towards Ana’s daughter.

“Daughter.”

Then the captain.

“Husband.”

Then the harbour.

“Home.”

Mara nodded.

The daughter asked Ana:

“Can I touch you?”

Ana looked at her hands.

“I think so.”

Mara whispered:

“She doesn’t know.”

CHIBI:
“No.”

The daughter reached.

Ana took her hand.

Nothing terrible happened.

Then Ana reached towards the captain.

And stopped.

She waited.

Mara smiled.

MARA:
“Door.”

Chibi looked at her.

MARA:
“She waited.”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

“Like last night.”

“Yes.”

Mara understood.

Even if someone came back from the dead—

they still had to ask.

That seemed like a good rule.

The captain finally took Ana’s hand.

The three stood together.

A family.

Maybe.

MARA:
“Are they fixed now?”

CHIBI:
“No.”

“Why not?”

“She’s been dead twelve years.”

Mara looked at him.

MARA:
“Probably.”

Chibi stared.

Mara grinned.

CHIBI:
“Rude.”

MARA:
“Yes.”

They watched the family.

Nobody looked completely happy.

Nobody looked completely sad.

MARA:
“They still hurt.”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

“Even though she came back.”

“Yes.”

Mara frowned.

MARA:
“Then coming back doesn’t fix anything.”

Chibi thought.

CHIBI:
“Maybe it gives you something to do with the hurt.”

Mara stared at him.

MARA:
“That was smart.”

CHIBI:
“Sorry.”

The sailor with the knife finally put it away.

MARA:
“He still looks scared.”

CHIBI:
“He can be.”

“But he put the knife away.”

“Yes.”

“So he doesn’t trust her.”

“No.”

“But he isn’t attacking her.”

“No.”

Mara nodded.

MARA:
“That seems grown-up.”

Chibi frowned.

CHIBI:
“Don’t insult him.”

The harbour woke around them.

Gulls screamed.

Ropes slapped against wood.

Someone cursed at a cart.

People carried baskets.

Morning continued as though dead mothers did not occasionally return.

MARA:
“Shouldn’t everything stop?”

CHIBI:
“For what?”

She pointed.

“Dead mother.”

Chibi looked around.

CHIBI:
“Morning doesn’t know.”

MARA:
“That’s rude.”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

They watched Ana for a while.

Then Mara asked:

MARA:
“Do you think she should stay?”

Chibi did not answer immediately.

MARA:
“That’s a real question.”

CHIBI:
“I know.”

He looked at Ana.

CHIBI:
“Does she want to?”

Mara blinked.

MARA:
“I don’t know.”

CHIBI:
“Ask her.”

So Mara did.

She and Chibi climbed down to the quay.

Ana watched them approach.

MARA:
“Hello.”

“Hello.”

MARA:
“Are you dead?”

The captain closed his eyes.

His daughter almost laughed.

Ana blinked.

“A little direct.”

MARA:
“Adults make things too long.”

Ana smiled.

“That is true.”

Then she considered the question.

“I think so.”

Mara turned triumphantly towards Chibi.

MARA:
“See? She says ‘I think’ too.”

CHIBI:
“Contagious.”

Mara looked back at Ana.

MARA:
“Are you a ghost?”

“I don’t know.”

“A monster?”

“No.”

Mara narrowed her eyes.

MARA:
“How do you know?”

Ana opened her mouth.

Stopped.

Then laughed.

“I don’t.”

Mara liked that answer.

MARA:
“Do you want to hurt anyone?”

“No.”

“Do you want to stay?”

Ana looked at her daughter.

“Yes.”

Then at the captain.

“I think so.”

“Do you want to go back?”

Ana looked towards the sea.

“I don’t know where back is.”

Mara had no answer to that.

Chibi stepped closer.

CHIBI:
“Do you know where home is?”

Ana looked at her daughter.

At the captain.

At the ship.

At the harbour.

“Yes.”

CHIBI:
“Better.”

Ana’s eyes filled with tears.

Mara took Chibi’s hand.

MARA:
“So what happens if dead people come home?”

Nobody answered.

Not Ana.

Not the captain.

Not his daughter.

Not Sean or Eljara.

Not Stacy or Caelwyn.

Even Chibi was quiet.

Mara stared at them.

MARA:
“Seriously?”

Ana laughed.

Then said:

“I suppose the living have to decide whether there is still room.”

Mara frowned.

MARA:
“That’s silly.”

Ana raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

Mara looked at the enormous ship.

The harbour.

The whole morning.

“There’s loads of room.”

For a moment nobody spoke.

Then the captain’s daughter laughed.

Sean joined her.

Stacy did too.

Even the captain managed one broken little laugh.

Ana cried.

Mara looked at Chibi.

MARA:
“Adults make everything difficult.”

CHIBI:
“Yes.”

“Dead adults too.”

“Apparently.”

The daughter took Ana’s hand again.

The captain stood beside them.

Not fixed.

Not forgiven.

Not certain.

Together.

For now.

Mara looked back at the remains of the feast.

Maybe they really had opened something.

Maybe longing had done it.

Maybe grief.

Maybe spirits.

Maybe God.

Maybe ancestors.

Maybe the sea.

Maybe something nobody there had a word for yet.

Mara did not know.

And for once, not knowing did not feel like a problem.

She looked at Ana.

A dead woman?

Maybe.

A ghost?

Maybe.

A mother?

Definitely.

That was enough for one morning.

MARA:
“Chibi?”

CHIBI:
“Mm?”

“Yesterday you said dead people might come to parties depending on the party.”

“Yes.”

“So was this the right kind?”

Chibi looked at the ship.

At Ana.

At her family.

At the sea.

CHIBI:
“Looks like it.”

Mara nodded.

That settled absolutely nothing.

Which, she was beginning to learn, was sometimes the correct ending.

The living had spent the night learning how to open their doors.

By morning, someone had come home.

And perhaps the hardest question was not whether she belonged to the dead.

It was whether she still belonged to the living.

If someone you loved came home after death, would the first question really be what they are — or whether there is still a place for them beside you?

If you remember what this felt like…

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