One day, when Mother went outside to offer them some of the treats she’d made, Cecilia said reluctantly, “Oh, hello Sue,” insisting on calling Mother that instead of Swee. “Listen, Ann had a particularly rough day in school today, so we’re just making sure she has some quality time with her best friend, May.” Their children stuck their tongues out at Bea and me as they hid behind their mothers. The previous week, I’d heard Sally say, “Oh sorry, Sue, I’m just heading home with Cecilia to ask her advice about some colour swatches. We don’t have time to chat.” And a few weeks before that, the excuse had been “Oh no! The wind has picked up. I think we need to get my winter coat before I keep standing out here.”

Each time the women picked up their conversation and left, dragging their rude children along with them, Mother slunk back into the house like a snail into its shell.

When she was sad, I felt the weight of her sorrow on my shoulders. I went to her room to comfort her, but she just looked at me and said, “Wo pua peh, I’m not feeling well. Go outside and play with your sister. I’ll feel better soon.” I watched as she unwrapped her ankle, massaged it, wrapped it once more.

I could see Mother closing up like a flower wilting in the last days of summer. I clung to her side, hoping the warmth of my body would console her, but as I left the room, I saw her lie down and pull the covers over her head.

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AS WE OFTEN DID, Bea and I followed Hilary home one day after school. Homework was a distant memory when we were summoned to set the dinner table after watching an episode of Jem and the Holograms. Steaming rice was piled in small bowls at each place setting. Phillip appeared out of nowhere and sat down. Everyone waited until Hilary’s father had picked up his chopsticks before eating. Auntie Elizabeth placed some vegetables and stir-fried beef in his bowl. He lifted a piece of meat and chewed it noisily. Auntie Elizabeth then made sure everyone else had some food in their bowls. After a few loud slurping mouthfuls, Uncle Sam observed, “Oh, you can use chopsticks?”

“Yes, Uncle” was all I could muster.

Auntie Elizabeth gave Uncle Sam a warning look, but he ignored her. “I thought you used forks at home.”

“It depends on what we eat,” Bea said. “Sometimes we use forks if we’re eating spaghetti.”

“So your mother doesn’t cook Chinese food all the time?” Uncle Sam said, rice sticking to his lips.

“Most of the time she cooks Chinese food, and sometimes we use forks for that, too,” Bea said.

I felt my cheeks getting red. I wanted to kick or pinch my sister, but Hilary was sitting between Bea and me. Then Phillip asked for more soup in Cantonese.

“Our guests don’t speak Chinese, Phillip, so be polite and speak English while they’re here,” Uncle Sam said.