We’d made it part of our daily routine. “What are you staring at? Do I have cereal on my nose?” Tiffany brought her napkin up and wiped her face. I laughed at her expression. “You just remind me of someone.” She had so many mannerisms that reminded me of Bridget. It was bittersweet. “Oh.” She gave me a little smile. “I’m sorry.” Jai Li tugged on my sleeve to get my attention. She spent a lot of time with Tiffany and me, but it was hard creating a bond when we couldn’t communicate very well. We’d been able to understand enough to know that Jai Li was the daughter of Chinese immigrants, but her English was stunted from only speaking Chinese at home. In California, she’d been in a private school, one that had been giving her a traditional Chinese education. But her English seemed to be limited to memorized words; she didn’t put them together into sentences, and didn’t seem to understand us when we did. Still, we tried. She pointed at the milk carton sitting on the table.
