My Dad comes from Ipoh, Malaysia. He does not speak English and did not complete high school education and he has been working as a public bus driver for more than a decade. Dad is quiet and he hardly smiles. The only time he talks more is when he is slightly intoxicated. But whenever he wants to talk to me after he had had a few drinks, I would feel annoyed because he keeps repeating what he wants to say. Dad indulges in some vices occasionally; he has been a smoker since I was young and he enjoys having beer sessions with his colleagues almost every day after work. His favourite hangout was at a coffee shop near home. He would wave for me to come by his table whenever he catches me having lunch there in my secondary school uniform back then. “This is my daughter. She is very good at her studies!” he would tell his co-workers in Mandarin. Gradually, I found myself avoiding that coffee shop whenever I know my Dad is …