Page 2 of Menage a Passions

Begrudgingly, as she always lamented whenever she saw an SUV, of all things.

Better her driving than me.As Becca climbed into the passenger seat after securing Cecelia’s bag in the back, she stole a glance at Jane’s driver seat setup. She was the only one who drove this thing now, and it was entirely because she was so short thateverythingwas to her particular standards: from how far the seat pushed up, to the angle of the steering wheel, to the position of the mirrors and even the small lift installed behind the pedals to ensure she comfortably reached them. Becca, who was taller by several inches, didn’t dream of the day when a big enough emergency required her to change everything at the last minute to drive the SUV to the hospital. Or the airport, knowing her luck.

Within a minute of the car starting up, Cecelia nodded off to sleep in the backseat.

“I don’t miss those days,” Jane lamented as she donned her sunglasses and changed gears. “Falling asleep wherever I sat because my family kept me moving whether I liked it or…”

Becca was the one tasked with texting who needed the updates while Jane drove. First, she texted Caitlyn, informing their third that Cecelia was in the car and they were on their way home. Second, she texted Lilian, Jane’s sister and Cecelia’s mother, because she had a feeling that Jane hadn’t bothered.

Indeed, she hadn’t.

“Oh, my baby is in America! Send me a picture! Please!”

Becca snuck a picture of Cecelia hunched over in the backseat, her long black hair creating a screen between the world and her face.

“AAAHHHH my baby!Wa,wake her up and tell her if she sleeps like that she will lose an inch from her spine!”

Becca said she would, without any intention of following through.

“Your sister has been updated,” she announced to Jane. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh, in that case, tell my sister that I look forward to her many,manyimpromptu visits checking up on us.”

“I have a feeling that won’t be happening soon.” They didn’t talk about it much since it affected Cecelia more than anyone else, but the original matriarch Lady Lam had recently fallen ill and had moved on to be with the ancestors. (Which was a lovely way of sayingthe old lady’s fucking dead.) While Cecelia didn’t seem to miss her paternal grandmother much, Lilian was on cloud nine when she wasn’t playing the dutiful daughter-in-law who went into mourning and refrained from many of life’s excesses, like unnecessary travel.I’m told we get at least six months of peace. Maybe.

Then again, peace was a relative construct in her house!

One could argue that all three members of the Wong-Adams-Pruitt house faced a massive change in their daily lives thanks to Cecelia’s arrival. But Becca would fervently argue thatshedealt with the biggest change of all.

For one thing, she had lost her room, her private haven in the busy flat that overlooked the picturesque river flowing through the city.

Everyone agreed that Cecelia deserved to have her own space while studying and adjusting to a new country and a new sense of family. Deep down, Becca had always known what this meant for her. She had the smallest room. She already spent half her nights sleeping in someone else’s bed. The landlord of thebuilding did not allow for “major renovations” such as creating extensions or splitting one bedroom into two. The only thing to truly questionwasn’twho was giving up their room, but whose Becca was moving into once her place was cleared out before inviting in a Hong Kong teen used to living within certain means.

Jane. It was Jane that Becca moved in with, both because it was easier to smash their belongings together and because Becca spent the night with Jane more than Caitlyn. It simply made sense.

Not that Becca was truly happy with the situation. She merely accepted it. While she could have put her foot down and refused to give up her personal space, she knew there was no point. Everything made practical sense, and she could empathize with Cecelia, who now had to share a flat with three grown women with their own lives, let alone witheach other.Cecelia was old enough to know that her aunt Jane was married to Caitlyn and Becca was their third. The whole family knew, damnit, and there was no use hiding it from an intelligent high schooler.

Still, wouldn’t it take getting used to? Like Becca had to get used to staying out of her old room?

True to her word, Caitlyn brought home dinner, a hodgepodge of traditional American foods from the Brooklyn Market. This was Caitlyn’s usual go-to when bringing home dinner, thanks to its proximity to their downtown office and knowing what everyone liked… but Becca had a feeling that this was also about easing Cecelia into American cooking since the food was fresher and less greasy than some other restaurant affair. Thin slices of roast, mashed potatoes, and whole green beans were easier on the teen’s palate than coming in hot with macaroni and cheese and New York-style pizza.

Cecelia ate all of her food but didn’t talk much.

“Are you excited to start school next week?” Caitlyn asked the niece she had known since Cecelia was a baby. “I hear that there’s quite the curriculum lined up for the incoming students. You’ll be a sophomore, right?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Cecelia mumbled into her spoonful of mashed potatoes.

“Neither do I!” Jane said. “The way they structure school here in America is absolute rubbish. All of the terms of arbitrary, and none of them make any sense. Why is a junior the year before senior? Why are middle schools and junior highs not the same thing? Why do some elementary schools include the sixth grade and sometimes they don’t? My God, there’s a public school nearby that is kindergarten until eighth year.”

“Grade,Lin,” her wife corrected. “We call them grades, not years.”

“Who cares?”

“Your niece, who has to remember to say the right word in front of her new slightly judgmental peers.”

Cecelia’s eyes widened before she quickly resumed herdevil-may-careposture. While Rebecca knew the growing girl must still be quite tired after traveling for two days, she was also in a mood.Typical teen stuff, I bet.Not to mention, this was tame compared to other heiresses Rebecca had come across over the past few years. If her way of acting out was to be sullen and quiet, then the adults won!

“Sophomore is tenth year,” Becca said when the mood died down again. “High school is four years, Jane. Freshman, sophomore, junior, senior…”

---