Kris doesn’t know when exactly it all goes downhill, or maybe things were never as he had thought they were.  When he thinks about it again, perhaps the signs were all there, and he as a foolish child hadn’t been able to comprehend what was happening within their big penthouse in China.  

“A penthouse?  How can you raise a child in a penthouse?  You should seriously consider moving to the suburbs into a family home.” He distinctly remembers the gossiping voices of the aunts and uncles when he was four as they chided his mother, who did her best to avoid the questions and change the subject.  In her frustration hidden under jewelry and expensive perfume, she gripped his shoulders in attempt to shield him from their prying eyes, while his father shifted nervously a few feet behind him.

There was always too much space in that penthouse, and too much space between his parents.  

One summer when Kris is six and a half, the penthouse is filled with cardboard boxes and strange movers on scooters and a big truck with its engine rumbling outside.  He doesn’t know why the house looks even more empty than usual, and he lightly tugs on his mother’s dress as she is pacing up and down the floors.

“Yifan, don’t do that.” She pushes his grubby hands off her dress in irritation,  but seeing the tears slowly well up in her son’s eyes, makes her drop to her knees and his hair.  “I’m so sorry, baby, mom is sorry.”

“What’s happening?  Why are they taking away Daddy’s things?”  He asks innocently, missing the grimace that flashes across his mother’s face.

“Well, Daddy is going on a trip.  A long trip, and since we don’t know when he’s coming back, we’re sending his things to him. You understand right, darling?” She says as she copiously his hair, much too harshly and repetitively to be healthy.  She repeats these sentences twice more as she continues bustling about the house, wiping off imaginary dust from the furniture, as if she is convincing herself instead of her son.

Kris nods, not wanting to question any further.  He retires to his room and reads his old comic books until the sound of the truck engine outside grows too loud for his comfort.  He sits up on his knees to close the window beside his bed, when he reads what’s printed on the side of the truck.

GOT JUNK? WE’LL HAUL IT AWAY FOR YOU! YOU’LL NEVER SEE YOUR TRASH AGAIN!

Mom lied, he remembers thinking, as he shuts the window and draws the curtains closed.  It should have hurt, realizing his father wasn’t coming home, but why didn’t it?

Why didn’t it hurt?

---

Kris is lonely that summer, more than usual.  He spends that entire season holed up in his room, the curtains still drawn in tight from that hot afternoon, in fear of upsetting his mother, who seemed to not know what to do with herself.  Some nights, she doesn’t even come home, leaving Kris on his own in that big empty penthouse.

He gets over the childhood fear of being alone in the dark very quickly.

One day, his mother calls him out of his room and kneels in front of him, speaking softly and slowly, as if he wouldn’t understand her words had she spoken normally.

“What do you think about going on an adventure?  You would like that, wouldn’t you?” She says sweetly.

“What kind of adventure?”

“You can go to a land far away, and meet lots of new friends and people.  It would be fun, wouldn’t it?” He doesn’t miss his mother’s obvious absence in these plans she speaks of.

“What about you?  Are you coming?” He asks, and he sees his mother’s pupils shake in fear.

“Well, mom is going on an adventure too. Mom is going to Taiwan and taking over Grandpa’s fashion company.”  She straightens, signaling the end of their conversation.  “It’ll be fun, Yifan.  I promise.”

---

The day the penthouse is filled with cardboard boxes comes again in hot, sticky July, and it’s amidst the forest of boxes that Kris learns of the truth behind this so-called adventure.  He had been crouching among the boxes, looking to check if his comic books had been packed safely, when the distinct sound of his mother’s heels click on the unforgiving hardwood floors.  At first, he thinks she is speaking to herself, something she had been doing often these few days, but Kris later realizes that she is on the phone, so he stays quiet nestled among the boxes.

“Is everything ready over there?  Dad said the employees are currently setting up the new office.” His mother says as she walks into the kitchen.  He can see her opening all the cupboards searching for something, but of course, everything has been either thrown out or packed away.

“Sis, everything is fine.  Stop worrying. How’s the penthouse?” He recognizes his aunt’s voice on the speakerphone.

“I’m going to sell it. The paperwork is in drafting right now.” She says, as she gives up her search and pulls out a bottle from the refrigerator.

“How can you sell it?  That was Dad’s marriage gift to you!”

“This house wasn’t a marriage gift, it was a slap in the face.” His mother slams the bottle down on the marble countertops and scoffs audibly. The smell of alcohol permeates throughout the kitchen, wafting to the living room.

“Sis…”

“It was my fault.  I knew things wouldn’t turn out well.  I thought it was okay that he wasn’t rich, I thought as long as we were happy and in love, I could give up the money and my old life.”  She pauses, taking in another gulp.

“Yifan wasn’t supposed to happen.  He was the one who wanted a child, but after we had him, where did he go?”

“He goes straight to some other woman in the street.  Says she doesn’t give him as hard of a time as I do. Is it my fault I’m used to nice things? Can’t he understand how much I gave up for him?”

“Sis, don’t get too upset; it’s not good for your health.  Where is he now?” The worried voice replies.

“I don’t know.  Probably somewhere in the street where I found him. Said he didn’t feel anything in this dead house and that he wasn’t coming back.”

“How about the child?  You don’t mean to say he’s coming to Taiwan too?”

“No, dropping him off in Canada with Park.” His mother says without a pause, as if she was reading lines off a book.

“Are you sure about that… Maybe you should reconsider.”

“I can’t take care of him right now.  Things will be better if he goes away.  I’m sure of it.”

She hangs up the call, and sighs, letting the glass bottle clink against the countertop, leaning back in the uncomfortable white chair that had always given Kris a sore back whenever he sat in it.

Kris slumps back, collapsing against the wall.  He knows he made a loud sound, but he doesn’t bother to hide, knowing that his mother is far too drunk to notice anything wrong.

So that was the end of the penthouse with the empty space, the end of his mother dressing up and taking him out to dinner, the end of seeing his father’s broad back late at night looking fondly at the city streetlights.  

---

Soon after, Kris finds himself in an airplane, sitting beside a flight attendant.  In his fingers is a brochure with tourist destinations in Canada, like the famous Quebec where the maple trees are, michelin star restaurants that “you just have to taste for yourself!” and overly-edited shots of nature and scenery.  

He closes his eyes and tries very hard to imagine himself there, inserted in between the smiling children in the park under the maple trees, but he just can’t see it.  He tries to picture himself sitting in the cafes, walking in the streets, but he is met with nothingness every time he gets close.

He leans back, and tries to fall asleep for the remaining nine hours left of the plane ride, when a boy skips down the aisle holding his mother’s hand, giggling and smiling.  

“Mom, when we arrive in, in Canada, can we buy the, the gravy fries?  At school, Mark said that he’s from Canada, and that the gravy fries are very delish, and I told Mark I would eat them and tell him when I came back, so we have to buy the gravy fries! Can we?”  The boy speaks in halted phrases due to his excitement.

A woman follows behind him, telling him to speak more quietly.  “Yes, Donghyuk, we can and you can tell Mark about it. But Daddy and lots of other people are sleeping now, and we want to let them sleep so when we arrive, they will be well rested and they can enjoy their gravy fries as well.”  She advises, and the boy nods and does his best to tiptoe back to his seat.

Kris cracks an eye open, and this Donghyuk doesn’t seem much older than him.

He decides he doesn’t like Donghyuk.

---

When the plane lands, the flight attendant stays with Kris until his luggage has been collected and leads him to the airport pick-up. She looks annoyed, Kris can tell, perhaps she’s had enough of accompanying a child on a flight because he has no guardian.  She taps her foot hastily, up until a young woman jogs over to them.

She looks to be in her mid twenties, dressed in workout clothing and face bare of makeup.  She smiles brightly without inhibitions, and after studying Kris’ face, she extends a hand toward the flight attendant.

“Hi, are you accompanying Wu Yifan?  I’m his guardian here in Canada, ” The woman asks the flight attendant, and after the two exchange legal information, Kris is led into an old car.  She places his luggages in the trunk, reassuring Kris that Canada is a great place to live and that they’re going to have a lot of fun living together.  

“You must be tired, right?  I’ll keep my mouth shut until we arrive at home, alright?”  

She reaches over to put on the radio to drown out the silence, and it doesn’t seem like she’s expecting an answer from Kris, so he simply nods and stays quiet.  He runs his fingers against the worn out, fake leather of the car seats and notices how different it feels from the firm, car seats and suffocating smell of his mother’s mercedes back in China.

He looks out the cracked window and sees couples reuniting, families piling into tour buses, and businessmen on the phone.

He can see his own face in the window. It taunts him, looking like it’s part of the crowd filing out of the airport with smiles on their faces, until the car enters a tunnel, and all he can see is a blank expression staring back at him.

---

“So, Kris, my name is Park Mi Jeon and I will be your housekeeper while you’re here in Canada.  Your mom already enrolled you in school, so you’ll be starting in a couple weeks.” Miss Park says across the dinner table as Kris picks at his fried rice.  She has her chin resting in her hands, watching him eat with a smile on her face. When they arrive at the apartment, Kris takes a proper look at the street and the park and concludes that it looks nothing like the brochures he had read in the airplane.  Oddly, he isn’t surprised. When does anything turn out into what it’s supposed to be?

She quickly sends him to his room to unpack his things and look around the new living space, having said that she would make him some dinner.

The apartment is, well, small to say the least.  The furniture is old and mismatched, the paintings are hung somewhat lopsided, and the kitchen is filled with creaky appliances.  It feels so much different from the penthouse he had woken up in everyday until now.

“Did you hear me, Kris?”  He is broken out of his trance by Miss Park who looks at him worriedly.  

“Sorry. I’m still not used to