“I should have done something ages ago,” she continues. “I knew you were forgetting your Mandarin. They all warned me this would happen. They told me I should encourage you to read more books about Chinese history and culture and converse in Mandarin at home whenever possible.” She heaves out a long, heavy sigh. “It’s my fault my English is so good. If I weren’t perfectly bilingual, things might not have turned out this way.”

“Your English is phenomenal,” my dad offers from the passenger seat.

“Yes, I know,” Mom says. She finally starts easing the car out of the parking lot.

The constant lurching motion doesn’t help the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s not just that I feel guilty for ruining things—it’s also humiliating. I’ve always made it my goal to move through life as gracefully as possible, to only do the things I already excel at, to only participate in games I’m confident I’ll win. This was a major defeat, and Cyrus just had to be around to witness it.

Then again, maybe it isn’t a coincidence that Cyrus is involved in two of the very worst days of my life so far. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if in a past life, I accidentally ran him over with a horse carriage or something, and his whole purpose in this life is to bring me misery. He’s definitely succeeding.

“But what’s the point of speaking great English if our daughter can’t speak her own mother tongue?” my mom says. “She can’t even speak to her own grandparents.”

My aunt’s words ring inside my skull, and I wonder if my mom’s thinking of them too. Ignorant foreigner. “I … I do speak to my grandparents,” I venture through the lump in my throat, desperate to defend myself. “I called my nainai just last week.”

My mom draws in a deep breath and sighs again, as if there’s an excess of oxygen inside the vehicle. “You said love you, dude at the end.”

“What’s wrong with telling her I love her?”

“You called your nainai dude,” she emphasizes.

“Respectfully.”

“You don’t even know who Tang Bohu is.”

I hesitate, trying to place the name. “Who is that? One of my uncles?”

Dad makes an impassioned motion for me to stop talking.

“Look, this is a serious problem, Leah,” my mom says as she turns onto the main street. “How long has it been since you visited China? Do you not remember anything anymore?”