Fiction: Group 4
Then, I realised that by this time, my family would have moved to a larger house in the suburbs of
Guangdong already. That was when Father was never at home, always leaving for the city to work
I looked at the rows of small houses outside of the window.
Dusk settled over the rooftops of the houses and cast a blazing glow over the hills.
“Alright then, you continue with your work and I’ll do mine.”
“What? You want to speak to Wai-Shing? He seems to be busy at the moment, out catching bugs again, I
presume.”
Ah, yes. I was never around the house. I met a few friends during the summer and went to their houses to
play. Those boys had dialects mixed in with their Cantonese, but we played like any twelve-year old boy
would. The woods were our haven, and we caught little fish and creatures by the beach that was a fifteen-
minute walk away from our houses.
“Don’t be disappointed, silly! Go talk to your boyfriend instead!” Siu-Yuet laughed,” Alright, I’ll talk to
you soon!”
She put down the phone and stretched her arms, “Where on earth is he anyway?” I smiled. I was never to
be found until it was time for dinner, and this time in the mainland was like an adventure, my own little
expedition. I don’t remember the details, but all I could remember was missing home at times as I sat on the
rooftops of the houses with the stars for company.
The movement of chairs snapped me out of my trance, and my sister headed towards the door. I followed
again, and this time, a different timeline awaited me.
The familiar scent of the sea exploded in my nostrils as I found my sister and our childhood friends standing
on the docks of Hung Hom Bay.
It was the fall of 1986, and Siu-Yuet looked about twenty already, and a familiar man stood beside her. He
was James, a boy she met when she went to America to study; only to become her boyfriend, then her
husband three years later. She talked to him in semi-fluent English, and he understood despite the accents
she kept in her words. Chung and Ming-Zai were also there, talking to the two. All hints of childish
scrawniness gone, leaving only traces of the same face from before.
The setting sun gleamed over the waves that were slowly disappearing by the reclamation by the bay. I
found my younger leaning against one of the railings near the sea. The seabirds soared despite the loud
construction noise coming from underneath.
Mei-Ling stood next to me watching my sister, and she turned to me as she adjusted the hairpins in her
fringe. The sea breeze ruffled her hair and she smiled weakly at me.
“Guess this is the last day, isn't it?”
I saw myself nod curtly and take out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. The sound of the sea
mixed with the deafening machines. It doesn’t go well, it really doesn’t.
Wai-Shing, 18 years old, offered the packet to Mei-Ling and she shook her head.
“I don’t smoke,” she turned around to look at the dark waves far away,” And so should you.”
“Mm.”
