Nightlife ✓

14 | raincheck

A / N :

I want to mention this before we get further into the book. I once read a tweet that changed my perspective on family dynamics in communities of colour:

White supremacy will steal so much love from you.

And by that, they meant that if you look at your immigrant parents through a Keeping Up With the Joneses way, demanding perfect grades, judging your appearance and restricting you from going places, you will get it into your head that they somehow don't love you as much or in the 'correct' (read: Western, liberal) way.

In an earlier chapter, Krista mentions that she hated her mother's nagging until she was sick on her own for the first time, and realised that her nagging = profound care. Throughout the book, I'm trying to walk the line between resentment (which Krista's mother does not deserve) and dissatisfaction (which happens when two different ideologies clash).

Aimee x

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CHINESE MOTHERS WERE SO HARD to please.

I knew Mom only made her judgments and gave advice from a place of concern for my well-being, but I could only ever take about ten minutes of it before it began to grate on my nerves. I was twenty-one, I didn't need to be told how to dress myself.

The family WeChat group consisted of me, my older sister—Olly—my two older brothers—Kevin and Tommy—and my parents. Ever since we had all moved away from home to attend university, work or travel, except for Kevin, my parents mandated regular updates on our lives.

I had sent the group chat a picture of Riley, Viv and me at an event we had attended on Saturday evening. It was the monthly quiz night held at the Foxhole, Halston's student bar, hosted by the Women in STEM Association. Viv was the treasurer of WISA, and she mandated our attendance at as many of their events as possible.

In the picture, I was wearing a light yellow dress with spaghetti straps. The bar had been air-conditioned to a perfect temperature, we had each ordered a glass of wine for the night, and we'd even placed second in the quiz. I hadn't thought much of the photo, but Mom thought I'd underdressed and would catch a cold.

Which was typical of her.

"你需要穿多一点衣服," she iterated once again. "It's getting colder. No more dresses."

My regularly scheduled phone call with her had been productive in that I got to catch up with her about Mao Mao, check up on Dad's health—of which he'd never, ever inform me himself—and other tidbits about what Olly, Kev and Tommy were up to, that I usually discovered first-hand from them anyways, through text.

But now Mom was getting into the draining part where she fretted over every single factor in my life, and I could only sigh, nod and reassure her.

"Mm. 我会," I said. "I have to go study now. I love you."

"Okay," She rattled off more instructions, "You should close your windows at night to keep yourself warm. But remember to open them during the day. 让风进进出出."

"我会. Bye, Mom. Talk later."

With a relieved sigh, I got up from the wooden bench I was sitting on and threw my phone into my tote bag. I loved Mom, but damn, was she hard to please.

As I strolled towards the classroom which held my Biophysics tutorial, I heard a voice calling my name. "Krista!"

I turned to see a girl approaching me on the footpath, her bleach blonde curls falling down her back. Her face was immediately familiar because I saw it every week.