“I don’t want to make a big deal about it. Besides, she left. I’m over it now.”

Hilary could always tell when I was lying, but she also knew I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, even with her. I was afraid of what would emerge if I dwelled on it. I had worked so hard to keep the memories of similar episodes, the feelings they provoked, at the bottom of a crater within me. I didn’t want any cracks to form, to let even a bit of steam out, for fear a thick lava would bubble to the surface.

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the Chinese playgroup. It’ll be fun, and we’ll have more in common with the people there,” Hilary said.

“I’d really rather not, if you don’t mind.”

“Why? What else do you have planned?”

“I just don’t want to have to explain for the thousandth time why I don’t speak Cantonese or Mandarin, even though I look Chinese. Besides, I’m not in the mood to hear people call me Ri-Ree instead of Lily. Honestly, I have no idea what my parents were thinking.”

Hilary laughed at my imitation.

“Nobody expects you to speak Chinese at the playgroup. Some do, but you don’t have to. Besides you are Chinese!” Hilary replied.

I rolled my eyes. It was so easy for her. She had no idea what it felt like to be an outsider in the community that everyone else thinks you belong to. “What kind of bubble tea are you going to get?” I asked, changing the subject.

It wasn’t Hilary’s fault. I knew that. But I sometimes wished I were her.

寸Inch

THE LOUD CLANG OF THE MAILBOX WOKE ME from a languid nap. I rose like a disgruntled bear, its hibernation interrupted, and lumbered to the front door. Leo’s birth certificate had arrived! The long form, on a yellow-tinged piece of paper, had a typewriter-like font. I knew Father would want to see it and sought my phone to take a picture but stopped myself abruptly. I rummaged through my mind for the last time I had seen Father. I could smell the jiu gai and the steamed rice and realized he still hadn’t met Leo. I hadn’t heard from him in weeks. The aftertaste of my guilt jerked me out of the dregs of my drowsy state.

Father lived a short drive away in a modest bungalow with Auntie Choo Neo. On dry days, Father would cut the grass while Auntie weeded the flower beds. After a snowfall, he used his snow blower while she shovelled the steps. On days when nothing needed fixing, I would find them in Chinatown or T&T, having their coffee and reading the newspaper.

When Uncle Stephen died and Auntie Choo Neo chose moved to Ottawa to live with Father, I was comforted. Father became even more of a loner as he aged, and Bea and I worried about him constantly, but now that Auntie was with him, we knew they took care of one another.