"Keaton, this is my mother and my father. Mum, Dad, this is Keaton," she said in her language. I still struggled to understand what people were saying when they spoke too fast, even after almost a year.
"It's very nice to meet you," I tried in mandarin with a smile, and Lily's father chuckled at my speech, but her mother looked at me with an expression I can't quite describe.
"We have heard a lot about you," her father said in strongly accented English, and I shook his hand. At least one of them likes me, I thought. "Would you like to have a seat?" I followed him into the sitting room but didn't dare say anything as Lily's mother dragged her to another room.
Whilst her father and I chatted idly in both languages, I heard shouting from the other room. Most words I didn't catch, but I'm sure I heard something along the lines of 'If I wanted you to date that white trash, I would have left you in Australia when you were little'.
A slap rang out.
Lily's father smiled at me and asked if I would like more tea.
YOU ARE READING
combustion
Short StoryWhen paper burns, it doesn't just turn to ashes. This is the story of Lily and Keaton. Of the boy who was hopelessly lost, and of the girl who was his oasis in a sea of strangers. Most of all, of how he found himself turning paper to ashes.
