She’s learning Mandarin offscreen, staying up all night to watch soap operas where the actresses get hit by cars and develop amnesia, unable to remember the men they love, and I ask her if that’s why Baba’s not here, because she got hit by a car and forgot him. Abu sucks on red melon seeds, spits the shells into the conch of my palm. No, Abu says, I remember everything. That’s worse.
