Keychains ✔

I

I was short of breath when I reached him. "I thought you were behind me!"

"Same here," he said, wrinkling his nose. "When I turned around, you weren't there. But then I remembered I didn't say which path we would take."

We continued walking. Several families had gathered outside for a barbeque. I normally didn't take this path; the open greenery, occupied by a few houses and neatly planted trees, made everything quiet. Too much open space. "No worries. You have a better sense of direction than me. Say, why did you drive around here so much?"

Tai ducked his head, though a spark entered his rounded brown eyes. "There's lots of cul-de-sacs in American suburbs compared to here. Canada has grid patterns that make everything way less confusing. It's more suited for public transport, the big roads connect to the downtown area, and smaller city services are scattered throughout. Most people still use their cars though, and I admit that control and certainty are a lot more comforting to me than public transit. But in Vietnam, cars are giant chunks of metal that block the alleyways."

I tried to relate it back to what I knew. "So you've been to your home country at least once then. That's nice. Does it remind you of home? Because it looks like driving relaxes you," I clarified.

"Yeah, it does. A lot. My parents and sisters can be a lot, especially in a house where hollering is everyone's normal speaking voice." I laughed lightly. "Here though it's a lot easier to understand where everything is, and I can hear my own thoughts and sing if I want to."

We rounded another corner, where I told Tai to watch the uneven slabs of gravel awash in lamplight. My heels could cause a dangerous fall if I wasn't paying attention. Night was falling fast, and the familiar dark shapes of the sprawling told me we had made an entire loop without crossing a road. Tai preferred walking in and out of the neighbourhood roads, to explore them thoroughly. Until I met Tai, I couldn't believe someone could be so passionate about their interests.

"You have a wonderful singing voice, Tai," I insisted. "I never understood why you are so intent on downplaying your ability. Are your parents not supportive of your career?"

"They weren't thrilled but I wouldn't say that's the cause," he replied. He stared intently at my feet. "I don't know. I just have a habit of avoiding things, and avoiding what people say. That's why I admire your confidence. You're so sure of yourself. But I--I think....you have the same problem as me. Of avoiding things."

"What do you mean?"

"Your parents."

He stopped in the middle of a cul-de-sac. The sidewalk arched up on either side, disappearing over the hilly landscape, while we stood where the land dipped to make a U-shape. A lamppost towered nearby, throwing everything into sharp light and shadow.

"At the bar, you cut off the conversation after I mentioned Scotland," Tai continued. "Does it have something to do with your cultural disconnect?"

There was no sidestepping the thorny subject. I touched my short black hair as strands waved in the breeze. "Partly that. I wish to travel. My focus was academics when I was young, and nowadays I rather not abandon my marketing job to travel. It also helps me avoid thinking about them. My parents."

Tai pulled back from my expression. I faced towards the lamppost, so while it was difficult to discern what Tai was feeling, I knew the prickly heat creeping up my neck.

He shook his head. "Why do you hate your parents so much? You keep mentioning them, but then pretend that nothing happened."

"I let it slip. But I don't want to talk about it anymore."