With finals around the corner, the Tom N Toms Coffeehouse was packed when I parked beside Anh's 2022 sapphire Mercedes-Benz C-class. The floor-to-ceiling windows were frosted for the season. The industrial-modern café with its polished concrete floors reflected the coruscating Edison bulbs while Christmas lo-fi played in the background. I spotted my sister in her Boho dress in the corner, sporting a new hairstyle. This time it was pink-and-blue highlights with bangs swooped to the side. I ordered two taro lattes and a Hawaiian pretzel—something sweet for each of us, something savory to share. 
The girl behind the counter smiled at me. She wore an ocean-blue hijab over a gray Spartan-logo hoodie. She had a Roman nose decorated with two piercings. Whenever I saw a Roman nose, I thought of my best friend Zarin who'd been getting on my nerves lately with her random bursts of rage. 
"Lina!" Anh closed her copy of The Joy Luck Club when I approached, headphones sliding to her neck. We embraced. She must've noticed my stiffness because she immediately cocked her head. "Is something wrong, em?" 
I put on a poker face for the Mahjong table, but as I sat down, I didn't feel like sugarcoating things tonight. 
"Mom's furious with you," I said. "You don't call, you don't return her texts. You didn't come home for Thanksgiving either." 
Anh's smile faltered. "Oh, wow. Why does it feel like I just got served?" 
"Because texting Mom was the least you could do?" 
"It's not my fault Má gets mad at me for everything." 
"Okay, ghosting might work on some guys, chị, but ghosting your family is a different thing entirely. Grandpa Vinh's not going to live forever, you know." 
"Wait, now you're guilt-tripping me?" 
"Yes! It's Advent. Why haven't you RSVP'd to Christmas Mass yet?" 
But my question fizzled as the girl who took my order plunked a toasted Hawaiian pretzel and three holiday cups on our table. Confused, I looked at the bubbly hijabi, sure she had miscounted. 
"Lina, she's the reason I texted you to come tonight," Anh said. "Meet my girlfriend, Tania Khan." 
"Nice to meet you, Lina." Tania smiled again like she gave smiles out for free. 
My body went on autopilot, embracing Tania with the punctilious manners first meetings required. I never expected this from Anh, though. Not in a million years. This was my sister who had been bombarded with Valentine grams from all the guys in her senior class. I was surprised she'd be so bold as to come out to me, considering I'd been an altar server for our parish. 
"But aren't you Muslim?" I asked. My friend Zarin was a Muslim, but I'd never seen her veil. 
"Depends on who you ask," Tania replied. "My family's Ahmadi." 
"Who's Ahmadi?" I joked as Anh kicked me under the table. 
"So, Lina. Anh tells me you want to get into Stanford," Tania said. "As a Math major, right?" 
"It's a libel," I said. "I'm only in AP Pre-Calc as a junior. Anyone who's actually good at math would already be in Calc BC." 
My comment rattled Tania but she laughed nervously wanting me to like her. I learned that Tania's family was from Pakistan by way of Maryland. She was the youngest of five children. She currently lived with a favorite aunt in Santa Clara. Like Anh, she was an English major at SJSU but on the teaching track rather than the literature one. They'd met at a reading by a famous author whose name now escapes me. 
The elephant in the room kept growing larger, but a look from Anh stopped me from asking whether Tania was out to her parents. Eventually, Tania said her break was ending and excused herself, bussing her cup and Anh's. 
Anh lowered her tone. "So, Lina, what do you think of me having a girlfriend?" 
"I'm shocked. You know Grandpa Vinh won't approve of you dating a Muslim, right?" 
"Then don't tell him. He doesn't listen to anything except Vietnamese radio these days." She straightened up. "You haven't answered me, though. Do you see me differently now?"
I tipped back my taro latte to buy some time letting its syrupy sweetness spread over my tongue. Most of my school friends were in the QSA, even Zarin. Frankly, I never cared about things that didn't affect me. But when it came to family, blood was forever. Anh and I shared a last name, yet our differences were night and day.
After Dad passed away, we moved in with Grandpa Vinh because Mom had to work. Our lives became as tangled as the Tokyo subway system. For years, Anh and I passed through each other's lives. Our divergent schedules spared us from sharing our feelings with each other. Anh had been eleven when Dad's passing left a hole in her chest while I was hitting tennis balls with Grandpa Vinh a month later. I always sensed that Anh envied me for bouncing back so soon but not enough to talk to me about it.
"Finding out makes me like you less," I said at last. "There's no future in this relationship. You should end your little flirtation now before someone gets hurt."
"Is that you talking, or our ông nội?"
I shrugged. "What difference does it make? How long has it been since your last Confession?"
Anh's eyelashes quivered. Maybe she'd expected my unconditional acceptance and felt she'd received its inverse reciprocal instead. I watched her angrily stuff her book and neon pink Owala bottle into the Fjällräven Kånken backpack I'd bought her last Christmas. I'd gotten her a matching terracotta brown one so we could twin (I was in my Stockholm-style era before realizing how impractical it was). I thought it'd look good, but Anh informed me I had no fashion sense. That her color season was more suited to jewel tones than muted earth ones.
All this to say, Anh had an avoidant personality. While I loved my sister, I wasn't sure I liked her. Liking someone and loving them were two different things. She preferred to escape into the world of BookToks and Instagram instead of playing sports and tabletop games. The fracture in our girlhood could be distilled down to the fact that while Anh enjoyed being a girl, I found her hobbies frankly ridiculous. Exasperated with me one night, Anh accidentally knocked over a figure of Our Lady of La Vang. Porcelain shattered all over Grandpa's living room floor. Anh pointed me out as the culprit, and I took the fall because she was scared. Dad had collapsed at work earlier that day, and we later learned his pancreatic cancer was already Stage 3C. Nigh inoperable. Any treatment thereafter would only be palliative. As he got progressively sicker that year, Anh retreated further into the cloister of her room. Meanwhile, I coped by polishing the implements in the sacristy and lighting a candle to St. Jude each night.
Anh stood up, accessories jangling. "Tell Grandpa Vinh I can't make it to Christmas Mass. Once finals are over, I'm flying to Maryland to meet Tania's family."
"Tell him yourself," I said briskly. "Disobedience is an act of volition."
"Gosh, Lina! Can't you see how hard this is for me? I thought you of all people would understand."
"Understand what? That you're running away again?"
"I just need some time, okay? Can't you give me that much at least?"
"It's been eight years since we left that hospice room. Do you think Dad would be proud if he saw you today?" 
Anh unlidded my Tom N Toms cup. After taking a sip, she emptied the rest onto my head. All at once, the buzz from surrounding tables extinguished. The ambient lo-fi was no longer playing. The set must've stopped a while back. The other patrons now stared wordlessly at me as purple foam dribbled down my tracksuit.
"Are you okay, Lina?" Tania had returned with paper towels. "Anh just left. What happened?"
"An accident," I said, crossing myself. "Sorry about the mess. It was nice meeting you."
Anh's Mercedes was gone when I got outside. I knew I would upset her by invoking Dad. Once, Anh had been the one to demystify the world for me. I turned to my chị Hai for knowledge and comfort facing the unknown. But as Dad's time came to an end, she no longer had any answers.
And suddenly, I felt very small as the night began to rain.