“She must have starved herself while in confinement,” Auntie Choo Neo sniped.

Baby Billy started to wail then, and Mother picked him up and rocked him. She held him close, nuzzling the top of his head. Billy stopped crying but was restless, squirming and grunting. Mother swayed and bounced him gently, but Billy would not settle. She sang to him and called him Ah Dua.

Father put out his cigarette and gently steered Auntie Carrie by her elbow towards her son. “He sounds hungry, Carrie,” he said.

Auntie Carrie took Billy and arranged herself so she could nurse him. That seemed to settle him. I walked towards Mother to give her a hug, but Father beat me to her. I lingered behind Mother, waiting for an opening.

Father put his arm around her waist and drew her towards him. I could hear him whisper in Hokkien, “What are you doing? Why are you calling him Ah Dua?”

“It’s just a term of endearment, lah! Don’t be so dramatic, Ah Loy.”

“Ah Dua was our son’s name.”

“It also means big brother.”

“Don’t get too close to that baby.”

“Or what, Ah Loy?”

“Our son is no longer part of this world. He is long gone and was never meant to be.”

“We left him back home, and I can never go and see him.”

“He is back home, yes, buried next to my mother. But he is in another world now. It’s time to let him go.”

“That is all you do, Ah Loy. Leave everything in the past and let go of everything from back home. It’s so easy for you.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s not my fault he’s gone.”

“No, but you’ll remind me it’s my fault, right? I should have stayed home that day. I should have stayed in confinement.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t care about confinement. It was your choice. And you were right to take him to the hospital.”

“He was sick, Ah Loy. He had a fever. I didn’t know what to do. I thought taking him to the hospital was a good idea.”

“It was a good idea.”

“There’s a reason why we practise confinement. I should have been more patient. I should have called you. I should have called someone. And now he is far away.”

“We’re not far away. Your family, your girls, are here. Let it go.”

“Don’t get me started about what I’ve had to let go. I don’t want to talk about it here.”

Mother wrenched herself out of Father’s arms and joined the table of aunties. She lit a cigarette and puffed smoke into the air above her. I could see the tears she willed not to fall as she looked up at the ceiling. She sat there smoking silently until Father approached her again. “Don’t get too comfortable, we’re going home soon,” he said. Mother ignored him, and he moved to the table of uncles.

I stood in the middle of the restaurant between the mah-jong tables, frozen. The room appeared to be spinning, like I was sitting on a Lazy Susan in the centre of one of the large round tables. I slowly made my way to the foot of Mother’s chair.