Darling, stop being stupid, 
she says with all the tenderness she can muster,
which is not a lot, when I bring up my ex. 
At the dining table, in the gaudy rust of sunset,
she alternates between swatting mosquitos
and ladling copious amounts of food onto my plate. 

*

In Bahasa, the word sayang has two meanings. 
The first: love, or darling. The second: pity, or shame.

In response to an ordinary question, like, say, where did you go? 
You might respond 
Sayang, saya tidak kemana-mana. Darling, I didn’t go anywhere.
But you could also mean
Sayang, saya tidak kemana-mana. What a shame, I didn’t go anywhere. 

*

When I discovered that I’d misinterpreted, 
(because I was distracted, because the constellation of freckles 
on his back looked like the tops of divers’ heads,
bobbing up for air in a sea glossed white 
in the afternoon sun, because he was thumbing the Joan Didion 
on my bedside table and asking if I’d let him borrow it) I was so sad. 
She raided the fridge to see what she could deep fry for me. 

*

In Bahasa, when you say hati, it means heart.
but when you say hati-hati, it is a flare. A warning, 
to be careful. 

*

When my mother is scolding me, 
in the way mothers do when their daughters are heartbroken,
she says she is disappointed that I did not know better. 
That I did not read the signs. 

When she cries over her own him, 
I understand why she scolds. 

It’s the fear that makes you angry.

It scares me to think of her a breakable thing
rather than simply my mother. 

*

In Bahasa, when you use the word kasih as a noun, 
it means sweetheart. When you use it as a verb,
it means to give. 

*

Weeks later, when I bring the boy up again 
she gives me a piece of her mind. Rattles off a list 
of the things she never liked about him and I secretly adore it --
the way she holds my grudges.
The way I have learnt to hold hers.