Auntie defended herself and revealed she was a bit homesick. “I miss Winston. Besides, she needs someone to show her around, lah,” she said, pointing at me.

I had not invited Auntie Choo Neo, and although I wanted help, I knew how she felt about Mother.

When I told Bea, she said, “Why would you go there? I’m surprised you’re even interested.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you hate everything Chinese.”

“It’s not Chinese there.”

“Yes, it is. It’s a mixture, but there are definitely a lot of Chinese people there.”

“Well, it’s really John’s idea. We have some time and I love to travel. He’s never been there.”

“Funny how John is more into your culture than you are.”

For now, all Bea needed to know was that we were going. I knew if I told her why, she would use any means, including upsetting Father and Auntie Choo Neo, to convince me not to. I didn’t need a full-scale assault on my plan. I didn’t want anyone’s hopes or fears to bubble to the surface like the marrow coming out of the pork bones in Father’s soup. I had enough of my own to deal with.

John’s idea to travel to Ipoh lifted my spirits. I had lost confidence in my ability to judge people, to trust, and to recall the past in a way that I thought was accurate. Planning the trip distracted me from reconciling what I had heard from Alfred with my mixed feelings towards Mother. I wanted so badly to be right about Mother still loving us, and wrong about her moving on without us. Planning the trip also bought me time. I could divert my attention to the logistical tasks of travel instead of thinking about what the truth could be.

John and I thought it best that we accompany Auntie Choo Neo to Brunei, and then head to Ipoh on our own. We had a mere two weeks to find out a much as we could.

Flying with Leo was challenging. Why did a baby need so many things? But Auntie Choo Neo proved to be helpful, lugging gear, holding Leo, and just reassuring us things would be all right. Auntie expertly settled Leo, rocking her in the aisles of the airplane and gently placing her in the travel bassinet. As Auntie rocked the baby, I wondered if my own mother would want to do the same thing if she met Leo.

We were given immigration cards to fill out on the plane, and I dutifully filled in all the boxes. I had to complete one for everyone, including Leo. When I reached the box marked “race,” I didn’t know what to write for her. What was she? Why was this so important? So I listed her as Canadian. And felt guilty that I checked mine as Chinese.

When we landed in the capital city of Brunei, the thickness of the air enveloped me. It was a heat I had never felt before. My skin stuck to Leo’s, and she burrowed her warm head into my shoulder, trying to escape the blazing kiln we found ourselves in.