Four Aunties and a Wedding

They’ve gone through so much for me, like covering up an actual murder. The least I can do is pretend to like their hideous outfits.

How do I describe the particular shade of purple? It’s as if flamingo pink and electric blue had a baby and then that baby snorted a line of coke and proceeded to punch you in the face.

I’m not even passive-aggressive; I’m more passive-passive. I can’t be oppressed because I’m basically a human mattress.

We’ve managed to survive. And that’s what my family has always taught me. Over the years, when the men in the family left, one by one, my mother and aunts have shown me what it means to pick up the broken pieces of your life and keep plodding along until everything’s okay again.

This hotel is dog’s bollocks.

No, you’re Chinese mothers, which is as good as dictators,” I mutter, squeezing Ma’s arm with affection.

Annie’s forehead creases into a frown. “I’m alright, thank you. So you carry around a bottle of chili sauce with you?” “Oh yes, of course. Otherwise I not so enjoy the food.” This is why I can never take my family to nice restaurants. I’ve tried explaining countless times why it’s rude to bring your own chili sauce to restaurants or other people’s homes, but they just don’t get it.

To this day, I can’t quite believe how fortunate we were that someone like Sheriff McConnell was in charge of the case. His incompetence was vital in ensuring that nobody ended up charged with anything.

No, Er Jie,” Ma says. “Meddy is here, I think something happen.” Second Aunt exchanges a look with Ma. “Oh no, who you kill?” “What? Nobody!

It twists, burning with white-hot guilt. I guess part of me has always tried to hide my family because I know they can seem strange to outsiders. So maybe I’m a hypocrite for feeling this rage, especially since I’m complicit in trying to make my family conform. Haven’t I been trying to tone them down all my life?

While everyone else sleeps, I stare at Nathan like a complete creep and try to will him to continue loving me, even if his parents end up hating my family. Which is definitely perfectly healthy and respectable and not at all pathetic. “I can feel you staring,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

I am exactly like my family. I suppose a small part of me has always thought I was somehow better more modern, more educated, more sensible; I'm not as flappy, or showy, or loud. In many ways, I am different: I speak flawless English, I don't stew Chinese herbs into drinks I force onto others, I don't guilt trip my loved ones into doing things I want, I don't shout unnecessarily, I speak in a normal tone of view, and I strive to blend in and not stand out. But now I realize, these are all just surface differences. Deep down in my core, I am precisely the product of my family. When skin and flesh are ripped away, I am exact replica of them.

I swear I'm going to perish from heart disease at age thirty if life continues to be this bonkers.

The last time my mother sprang a surprise on me, I ended up killing it. Or him, rather.

What does one say when faced with four women wearing ten-inch-tall Komodo dragons on their heads?

The thought of holding anyone hostage is so beyond my comfort zone that I can’t think of anything. I mean, it’s not as if I grew up getting taught Kidnapping 101.

Because what, you guys are yakuza? Cartel? Mafia?” There’s a moment of uncertainty, and then Staph’s face hardens, and she lifts her chin. “Yes, Meddy, we are. We’re mafia.

Normally, the sight of this would have made me cringe and wish for a hole to fall into, but now I merely bite back a smile. Because now I see that they’re not trying to embarrass me. This has nothing to do with me. My family has never played by the rules. They don’t care how others might perceive them. They’re just making the best of their trip to England, embracing everything about the place and having the time of their lives, and how can I not love that?

What happened to putting family first? What happened to the woman who cares so much about saving face that she insisted on having me cut up fruit for my aunts when they came over to help me get rid of Ah Guan’s body? This is so completely unlike Ma. It’s SO unlike her, in fact, that maybe it wasn’t her—

Annie shakes her head. “You have all been quite—quite—” She struggles for the right word, her eyes flashing as she gestures at my family. “I mean, these outfits, those hats—” “What wrong with hat?” Big Aunt says, and suddenly she’s back in full Big Aunt mode, exuding towering authority and intimidation. Annie sputters. “Oh for goodness’ sake, look at them! They are ridiculous! You’re a laughingstock!” The word slices through my chest like a knife.

It’s like watching the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse descend upon you. My insides writhe, especially as heads turn to watch them. It’s as though they’ve got a magnetic hold on everyone’s gazes. No one

I’m dazed by all of the attention, the never-ending flow of people coming up to us and telling us what a beautiful ceremony it was and what a gorgeous bride I make.

Staphanie stares hard at me. “I think you know damn well that unlike you and your sleazy, scheming family, Nathan wouldn’t go along with it. He’d want to do the right thing and call off the wedding. He’d ruin everything.

Um, could we focus on the whole mafia part instead of the boyfriend-or-not-boyfriend thing? They do illicit things for a living and, uh, kill people who get in their way. And they’re using my wedding as an opportunity to

Because we’ll tell the police you killed some dude at Santa Lucia, and then you and your whole family, Nathan included, will go to prison for a long, long time.

Embarrassment, anger, just everything. Of course my family is different from Chris’s family! Just because both of us come from immigrant families doesn’t mean we’re all carbon copies of each other.

Guilt lances through my gut. They’re not wrong. I really am being an ungrateful brat. And I know that they’ve done all of this out of love, to impress Nathan’s family for my sake. But still! Argh!

As though the wildly different Asian diaspora experiences weren’t enough, his parents are also significantly wealthier than my family. Old money: Nathan’s grandparents had made a killing trading in Hong Kong before moving to England.

The Randolph is the fanciest hotel in Oxford, a hallowed brick building built in the Victorian Gothic style. It’s hard not to be impressed by it. Actually, it’s hard not to be impressed by everything in Oxford.

I shoot Staphanie an apologetic glance. She and her family must think we’re cavepeople, but they’re busy grappling with the numerous carry-ons and passports and an assortment of snacks and drinks they’ve bought outside the gate. Well, at least they’re not witnessing this.