Despite my brother's broad build compared to my wiry one, his old áo dài fit me like it was always mine. The silk glided like water across my skin. Gold embroidered dragons and Chinese characters with patterning the deep blue royal dress that extended only to my knees. It must have shrunk despite being washed very carefully by my mom and despite Liam being taller than me. I couldn't imagine outgrowing him. It felt wrong.

Going into my apartment's living room, I found Tienne digging in her purse for something. Per her style she wore a pink polyester dress with small clusters of apricot blossoms that glittered in the rising sun's rays. Female áo dài had so much more variety.

"Here. Chúc mừng năm mới. Vạn sự như ý. (Happy New Year. Hoping you get what you wish for)." With two hands she gave me a big lì xì with Mickey Mouse playing the guitar against a backdrop of fireworks. Even when we grew out of the kid envelopes, they were much more fun to look at than the ones traditionally decorated with ships or fish. She stifled a yawn. "Waking up is horrible."

"I didn't tell you to do paperwork until your hand fell off," I pointed out, referring to yesterday, when despite getting a day off from work she occupied herself with doing her clients' health insurance claims.

"It's my job. Don't tell me music doesn't take up all your time."

I shook my head. "Năm mới dồi dào sức khỏe (I wish you a healthy New Year)," I said seriously, and gave her a stiff red envelope embellished with Hello Kitty and roses. "Let's go."

We shrugged on our winter coats and grabbed the bags filled with fruit, red envelopes and coins as offerings to the temples we would visit together. The apartment was hushed, and I was glad to leave behind my laptop, where my email to Charu remained unsent. Our house would also be empty by now; everyone else was on a trip to go to as many temples as possible for the Lunar New Year. While Tienne and I would only visit those in Toronto, both of our missions were to buy mooncakes, coconut candy and anything else made by the temples so we could stock up our fridge on New Year goodies and reconvene in Mississauga at nightfall.

—

The chilly February morning passed productively with three temples visited. Without the weekend crowds, we soaked in the atmosphere. Tienne meditated while I wandered back and forth outside on the red balconies dusted with snow. We bowed to the serene Bodhisattva statues and flipped between the hand-out pamphlets detailing Buddha's journey to enlightenment. A few pictures were taken; Tienne liked posing with the fake cherry blossoms, and I liked the scenery of snow-covered rails, bright red Chinese lanterns and the Vietnamese flag swaying in the wind. The Vietnamese flag, as in, the yellow flag with three horizontal red stripes--the one that existed before 1976. It was the same reason why everyone referred to the big city as Sài Gòn, and why the Thời Báo newspapers my mom read published passionate love stories that cherished the past, in a peaceful setting far away from the war. We had no appetite for the harrowing topic of war--that was reserved for the curious Western world.

I gave my usual dues to Phật Quan Âm and Buddha. Meanwhile, Phật Địa Tạng had his own separate shrine in a corner. His crown and bright red robes distinguished him from everyone else. I recited the words my mom taught me to the point I'd dissociated from. their meaning, put the incense stick in the sand bowl, and moved from the bodhisattva of the dead.

After buying a bánh chưng from the temple to split between us—we left plenty of room for dinner, where the real feast of steamed chicken, stir-fried vegetables, and bánh tổ would begin—we settled in the car. Tienne usually liked to get take-out food for herself from a fancy restaurant, but she said she didn't feel like it. Since it was beginning to rain, she took the driver's seat and switched on the heating. Our munching and crinkling of the oily plastic wrap mixed with the slapping of water droplets on the windows. The remaining snow, which had sparkled weakly in the sun's presence, turned into brown-gray mush. While we waited for the rain to let up, I showed Tienne a video of a recent collaboration with Gülay.

"Both of us wrote a mini song about the Lunar New Year, then swapped it so we'd cover the other's song," I explained. "I didn't know Gülay celebrated the Lunar New Year, but her partner does."

I already told her days ago, but I couldn't let go of how nice it was to share your passion—and profit off of it. Money earned from enjoyable work was invaluable. The collaboration's impact was small but some of our audiences migrated to each other's spaces.

Tienne watched the edited clip. "You should show Ba this. He'll sing it around the house," she said.

"I guess."

How should I word my question? Should I start with Charu's offer first, or my opinion on it? Actually, couldn't I negotiate with them instead of outright shutting them down? Bring my dream to realization. Have my songs be professionally mixed, and my life--and my parents' lives--be heard by millions of people.

"Even if it's darker than your usual lyrics.Mẹmight understand it better than Ba, though."

"Mmmm."

Tienne stopped chewing. One cheek was full of food, and that was our version of a squinted eye—something so annoying, you couldn't even swallow. "They're happy to see you successful. It's not how they imagined, but parents can't control the future, so us kids may as well. Show it to them. They won't humble-brag to our relatives, if that's what you're worried about."

"Okay. Finish the bánh chưng and we'll get going," I said, averting my eyes so she wouldn't see the truth.

"You can have my half." She passed me the barely eaten piece of sticky glutinous rice. I sank my teeth into it and chewed on the mung bean and pork mix sandwiched in the center.

In truth I had forgotten to update them. I'd used to spam my family with everything to spread my happiness to them. With so many projects I was working on--things to perfect, areas to grow, opportunities from partnerships to catch--I just didn't have enough time to think.

I was working my way back towards my family. Everything I did was for them--to be proud of me, to be equal to my siblings, to tell my parents to rest and not work so hard. Gathering the crumbs that'd fallen on my jacket and dress, I heard but didn't understand Tienne's words.

"What?" I said.

She took her thermos from the cup holder and unscrewed the cap. A sliver of steam rose up. "How do you know you want to be a musician?" I frowned, but she continued. "Everyone says I'm so kind and giving. That's why I chose to be a social worker. But what if they're wrong? What if I was wrong for listening? I had thought that, if I could force myself to like my job, see the good in it, then I'd live."

"You don't...like your job?"

She shrugged.

I remembered the day when we celebrated Tienne getting into her first program of choice for social work. She had been so nervous for the weeks leading up to the acceptance deadlines that she hadn't been able to keep anything down without retching.

"Why did you choose it?"

She occupied herself with looking for tissues. "I don't know. To do something, instead of nothing."

I recalled what hobbies Tienne had. She liked consuming media--mostly books, videos, shows, and...well, doing whatever I did.

Tienne followed me when there was nowhere else to go. When my path branched off into music, her interests flitted so fast that I hadn't realized she was following the herd, not herself. But by the ancient rule, the Vuongs always knew what they wanted to do.

"I...We should celebrate what we have, not vie for what's out of reach," I said.

"But how can I be at peace when I don't know who I am?" she said.

Munching on the bánh chưng suddenly felt like a chore. It'd taken so long forMẹto come around to my music career. So many nights passed with me writing songs and dreaming of how I could prove to my family that my passions were more than just a hobby.

Tienne sniffed. "You're the only person I can talk to, Tai. Everyone else would say I wasted my privileges as the youngest sibling. Kimmy especially."

Outside the statue of Phật Quan Âm, the bodhisattva of compassion, gazed upon us with unyielding assurance.

Buddha, how do I help her?

Tienne shouldn't know about my doubts. To my parents, it'd show I was too vulnerable for the industry; to my siblings it'd affirm pursuing one's passion was a lost cause after all. So I said, "Let's go to the restaurant you like. Then you can watch the dragon dance."

"All of it? But the noise—"

"I'll wait for you outside."

"'Kay," she said finally, and it came out snappy.

I'm not good with words, I wanted to scream.

Tires crunched on gravel as she started to drive out of the parking lot. Misty rain came in undulating waves, and the monotonous slate-coloured city was punctuated by the occasional festive Lunar New Year decorations, reminding us another year had gone by, and how much and little had changed.

—

Tienne's favourite temple was a large Chinese one with four floors. Inside it was lit warmly with three golden Buddha statues at the front. Our arrival was timed strategically; by then the mass chanting had ended, so we filed into line around the tables covered in tasseled buttercup tablecloths. At the front, we stuck our lit incense sticks in the ceramic sand-filled bowl. Tienne prayed using all the proper acknowledgements (name, location, living and deceased family members, then wishes). On the other hand, my mind dissipated into a yearning for courage. Half-a-dozen other prayers in the room cluttered my mind and prevented me from focusing, but I said the prayer in my head. I wasn't sure if Tienne included Liam in hers, so I pictured him in my mind, and combined it with a wish for courage to face the future. When we had finished our business, we obtained a tangerine and a red envelope from the side baskets.

Vietnamese temples taped slips of coloured paper fortunes to the fruit, but this temple printed their fortune on a plastic card inside the red envelope. It was kind of generic though. Out of all of them, my favourite fortune came from the third Vietnamese temple we visited: "khỏe như rồng, mạnh như hổ nghĩa là về sức khỏe": "Robust like a dragon, strong like a tiger; you will have good health."

"I'll show you something when we get home," Tienne told me.

We went down to the basement for the dragon dance. When I asked the drummer to hold off, the teenager gave me a weird glance. Fortunately the older man in charge knew my parents--they were all temple volunteers after all, and my siblings and I had made our due contribution here before. He let a couple of the boys wearing sparkling yellow and red pants assume the dragon costume and dance without the drum. I imagined the drumbeats, the cymbals and gongs as the red dragon bashfully avoided the ten-dollar bill I held out in my hand. Finally, it peered at me with its giant acrylic eyes and batted its eyelashes before "swallowing" the bill down its painted mouth. Then I quickly darted around and out of the crowd, happy to have been the center of special attention for a few seconds.

I wandered to the temple's gift shop. A song would not help my sister's identity crisis. Looking around the shop with redwood lacquered statues, jade jewelry and books, I sighed. A good gift for her was sentimental and the best one would have utility, but neither could be found.

Tienne was functionally invisible to our parents, never the one to pop her head up or defy expectations. Would she become invisible to me too?

Outside on the balcony, there was a large earthen urn with red and yellow sticks of finished and burning incense. I lit a fresh stick and asked Buddha to support my younger sister and the rest of my family, so we could stay together, even if we didn't see each other as often. We prayed for nothing if not to bind ourselves to each other, linked by our respect for Buddha and his teachings—a web of tradition, woven by time and endurance.

—

The next day, still in Mississauga, Tienne shoved a cheesecake in my face.

"It's pretty, right?"

I set aside my computer. The smell of graham crackers, powdered blueberries and sweet cheese tickled my nose. Whipped cream flowers formed a bouquet of exploding pinks and purples amidst the darker wine-coloured cake. It looked soft and deep like velvet. "It's the nicest one you made. Is it firm or soft?"

"I worked so hard on decorating, and you're already thinking of demolishing it!" she huffed, but she lightly spun in a circle with her socks before placing the cake on the table. "Firm, obviously. I'm thinking of making one like this as part of Quan's restaurant's re-opening. You know, the family friend who used to go drinking with Ba."

"Um--" My brain short-circuited, still trying to switch from my previous task. "The one with tattoos on his arm? Yeah, sort of. Been a while."

"Good, because I told Quan you're a great singer and that it'd be such a shame if he didn't have live music at his restaurant that night."

What? Did I even have space on my schedule for that? "Wow, Tienne."

She innocently curled her hair around her finger. "He can afford to pay you well."

"After shutting down the place for five years?"

"He's rolling in money, trust," she said, dramatically walking around. "I think he invests in stocks."

"I don't think he likes cake," I muttered, fighting a panic attack. She meant well, and okay better to take my chance than be replaced by another musician, but she might as well have demolished my carefully spaced out schedule. My near future. The future that was hurling at full speed towards me.

A change of plans did not mean a few tweaks here and there. It meant tearing out the foundation and starting from scratch.

"If he doesn't, his customers will. Just post it on Instagram!" she suggested. "Ba andMẹplan to go too. They can watch you sing."

The silence stretched long enough that I realized Tienne was standing behind me. She said, "I don't want to quit my job or anything, you know."

She saw! I swiftly closed my laptop. Some very creative curse words flew out my mouth.

She crossed her arms. "Is that what you wanted to show me? Seriously?"

"It's the logical conclusion. You like everything that we like, but you're not as skilled, so--"

"This is why I chose to be a social worker," Tienne said bitterly. " It's less about academics or talent and more about people. You don't have to make a freaking T-table to psychoanalyze me."

I shook my head. "One minute you hate your job and you love it the next. I'm trying to understand you, but I don't! I can't!"

She stood up, marched off and settled in her bedroom, the door ajar so I could just see her moving around things.

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "If I was a better brother, I would've helped you find things you liked instead of just dragging you into my own interests."

I could hear the leaky bathroom sink dripping from the second floor. We needed to fix it again. From where I sat, the spill of Mom's haphazard school notes were visible through the balcony railings. While her presence was felt all over the house, Dad's was contained in the garage and basement; wooden planks, frames and other junk he'd brought from the factory, and with which he attempted to build things he could call his own. Right now our parents were having dinner with family friends. The new year would be a small break before they returned to their manual labour jobs.