Page 47 of Dial A for Aunties

A sad smile touches her lips. “But even if Tom and his groomsmen do wake up in time, they’ll look awful, and Tom won’t even be able to enjoy his own wedding day.”

“If you want to call the wedding off or postpone it or whatever, you can,” Maureen says.

My heart does some complicated gymnastics move. Yesss, call off the wedding! We’d be able to leave early with the body—

Jacqueline shakes her head. “People have flown all the way from Indo to get here. If I canceled it there would be hell to pay.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. Tom’s the right guy for me. I’ve just got to get through today, and then we’ll be fine. He makes a shitty groom, but he’ll be the perfect husband.”

I have to consciously stop myself from sighing out loud in disappointment at the missed opportunity for us.

Second Aunt resumes putting on the finishing touches while I aim my camera at Jacqueline and take pictures. This is usually one of my favorite parts of the day—taking photos of the bride. There is no doubt that the bride is the highlight of every wedding. There’s just something about taking pictures of a woman wearing a gauzy, frothy wedding dress that makes me love my job. Usually. Today, I just want to get everything over and done with. And knowing that the bride is secretly unhappy doesn’t help matters.

Once we’re done, Second Aunt and I leave, giving Jacquelineand Maureen some privacy to bitch some more about the idiot groom and his idiot friends. As we walk out of the room, I turn and catch a glimpse of Maureen giving Jacqueline a quick hug while speaking in a reassuring tone to her, and I’m glad that Jacqueline has such a good friend to lean on. Outside the bridal suite, I quickly fill Second Aunt in on what’s happened.

“So now we just waiting for Big Aunt to steal suit from laundry room?” she says, incredulously.

Put that way, it does sound pretty crazy. It sounds like the kind of plan that has about a gazillion ways to go wrong. “Well, we couldn’t think of anything else, and that cooler’s been seen by just about everybody.”

“Is all Big Aunt’s fault,” Second Aunt says, triumphantly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. The fridge was just too busy, people coming in and out.”

“Nobody notice cooler, especially if we stack at bottom. You see, this is what Big Aunt do. She think she knows better, so she just do something without asking everyone. In the end, she create bigger mess.”

“I mean—it’s a difficult situation. I don’t think there are any right answers, you know?”

Second Aunt harrumphs. “I been telling everyone for so long, cannot just rely on Big Aunt, but everyone always ask, ‘Big Aunt, is this okay? Is that okay?’ How would Big Aunt know? No, cannot rely on her. I will think of something, better idea.”

“Uh.” This feels bad in a too-many-cooks-spoil-the-soup kind of way. “I really don’t think—”

“You go back inside, tea ceremony going to start soon. You get ready.” With that, she walks off, wearing a firm expression of someone who knows absolutely what she’s about to do.

I stand there for a while, hesitating. I should stop her. Or should I? I don’t know. I’ve been raised never to go against myelders. Like I said, it’s a difficult situation with no right answer, and left to my own devices, I would... well, I honestly don’t know what I’d do. Killing a dude and covering up said dude are all a bit out of my normal comfort zone.

It’s barely noon. Unbelievable. I feel as though it’s the end of a very long day, but now it turns out there’s still some time before the penjemputan ceremony. In Chinese-Indo weddings, the groom and groomsmen go to the bride’s house (or in cases where the bride’s already at the hotel, to the bride’s suite). The bridesmaids are supposed to greet them at the door and make them do a series of embarrassing stunts before they’re allowed to walk through the door and jemput—pick up—the bride. I wonder what torturous stunts Jacqueline’s friends have concocted, especially to get back at the guys for getting so shit-faced. Despite myself, I smile at the thought. They deserve a bit of ass-whooping, honestly.

“Well, at least somebody’s having a good time.”

I look up to see Nathan coming down the corridor. “Oh, hey.” I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. The sight of him. I can’t describe it. I mean, objectively he’s gorgeous, obviously, but there’s also something about him that makes me feel that I’ve come home after a long day.

“Just came out from the groom’s suite,” he says with a sigh.

“Oof. How’re they doing?”

“Well, they’re awake, so there’s that, but a couple of them are trying to shift the blame by saying that their drinks must’ve been spiked in order for them to get that drunk.”

I stare at him in horror. “Seriously?” How fucking entitled can you get?

Nathan sighs again. “Yep, seriously. Unfortunately, this kind of thing isn’t unique. You won’t believe the number of times guests have blamed us for some random thing just to cover their asses or get a freebie.”

“That sucks. I empathize. I deal with people on the most stressful day of their lives, so... yeah. I don’t usually see the best side of them.”

His mouth quirks into a crooked smile that doubles my heart rate. “Did you mean ‘the happiest day of their lives’?”

“I meant what I meant, dude. Sure, it’s a happy occasion with some truly beautiful moments, but it’s also stressful as hell, especially when you’re Chinese-Indo and need to invite two thousand people to your wedding.”

“True.” He continues smiling at me as if I’m very interesting instead of a wildly ranting weirdo. “So, um, I have a confession to make.”

I have to swallow before speaking “Yeah?”

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