“Could you be more shallow if you tried?” And did you have to go from zero to sixty billion in one second? I’d been desperate for her to just accept him, and now we were already talking babies?

My mother threw down her napkin. “Do you want your kids to be made fun of? To face more racism than they’re already going to? Having a fold in their eyelid will help them blend in a little more.”

That was not what I’d been expecting. But why was I so surprised? Whenever I was ready to tell her off or stop caring, she always found a way to give me a piece of her. Was it manipulation or sincere? Did it matter? Because each time, I fucking bit the hook and sank myself. Sometimes I wondered whether things would be different if I had another person to lean on, or at least more friends, but that probably wouldn’t change much; she would always be my mother, and somehow that bond held more weight than anything else.

My mother put down her spoon and joined me by the kitchen island, making my tea for me the way I hated: by taking already steeped-for-hours tea and adding lukewarm water to it. She was always scared of me burning my mouth and didn’t care that it was undrinkable.

“Aren’t you the one who always tells me mouth tissue turns over in just a few days?” I asked softly. “Is burning your palate really all that bad?”

“Is wanting your daughter to be most comfortable all that bad? I leave this on the counter when you’re home,” she told me, pointing to the bitter mother tea.

I stopped resisting and, as usual, took the cup and thanked her.

“You know, Jing-Jing,” she said, gesturing for me to join her at the table, which I did. “I’m starting to feel like I have nothing left to teach you. You stopped needing me so long ago. Mahjong felt like the last thing I could offer, but you don’t even need me for that.”

Isn’t that a good thing? I couldn’t help wondering.

She tapped her fingers on her own non-bitter cup of tea. “I kept thinking you and Andrew were still in the honeysweetie phase—or, no, I mean, you know what I mean—”

“Honeymoon,” I said quietly, feeling bad even though she had asked.

“Yes, honeymoon phase. It almost felt like an act until I saw you two yesterday at the sink. I don’t know what was going on, but it was the first time anything felt real. I was going to warn you that the honeymoon phase is too early to know what the future holds, but maybe you two are past it.”