Page 50 of Dial A for Aunties

“He um—” He lowers his voice, leaning in a little, and says, “Please don’t tell Jac, but he can’t find his clothes.”

“What?” Maureen cries. “For fuck’s sake, Tom. Come ON. You guys had ONE job. One! Just show up. And you can’t even—” She stops herself, takes a deep breath, and forces a smile. “Okay, whatever. Moving on. Time for the next trial.” She nods to one of the bridesmaids, who taps something on her phone. Musicblasts out. Kelis’s “Milkshake.” “Shake it, boys!” she shouts, and then hurries back inside the room, whispering something to a bridesmaid as she goes. The bridesmaid nods and takes her place at the front.

Maureen hurries through the living room and into the bedroom, where Jacqueline is waiting. Moments later, even through the din of the music, I hear Jacqueline go, “Seriously?”

I can’t help but sigh. Honestly, can these groomsmen be more of a mess? I walk over to the bedroom and knock softly. Jacqueline looks up and says, “Oh god, Meddy, we’re down a groomsman!”

“Yeah, I heard. Look, I know it seems like a huge deal, but it really isn’t. You’ve got enough bridesmaids and groomsmen for people not to notice a missing one, and I promise the pictures will turn out just as good.”

“But what about when they’re walking down the aisle after the ceremony? I can’t send Becca down the aisle on her own; that’s just too sad.”

I think fast. “She can walk down with another pair. Have the groomsman stand in between two bridesmaids as they go down the aisle.”

Jacqueline and Maureen look at each other, mulling over what I said, then Maureen shrugs. “She’s right. That’s the best option.”

Jacqueline sighs. “Okay. Could you?”

“I’ll let her know,” Maureen says, “don’t you worry.” She gives Jacqueline’s hand a squeeze and leaves the room.

Jacqueline leans her head back against the wall and breathes out. “This day’s a mess.”

She doesn’t know the half of it. “Weddings always are. But yours is going great, trust me. And you look amazing.”

She crooks a half-smile. I tell her I’m going back to take pictures, and she nods. With that little snag resolved, the rest of the penjemputan ceremony passes by quickly. The guys pass all oftheir trials and tribulations and are allowed into the suite. I capture the moment when Tom sees his bride for the first time in her wedding gown, the expression on his face making everyone go, “Awww.” He lifts her veil and gives her—as per Chinese-Indo tradition—a chaste kiss on the cheek. Her parents smile in approval. I snap the tearful moments when Jacqueline hugs her parents before leaving the bridal suite, and the acara penjemputan is over. The wedding festivities have begun.

19

Up next is the tea ceremony, a favorite for many couples. The bride and groom serve tea to their elders, and their elders bestow gifts upon them. Traditionally, the gifts come in the form of gold or red packets filled with money. With the more lavish Chinese-Indo weddings, the aunties and uncles often try to outdo one another; I’ve shot a wedding where an uncle gave his favorite nephew a car. Rare, but it has been known to happen. With Tom and Jacqueline’s ostentatiously wealthy families, who’s to say what the ceiling is when it comes to their tea ceremony?

The atmosphere inside the function room is electric. Seb and I take our respective positions, me behind the chairs for the elders so I can capture photos of the bride and groom, and Seb across the room. All the aunties and uncles and grandparents are side-eyeing one another as they await their turn to be served tea. The wedding organizer is perched next to the bride and groom, and she calls out the names of relatives, who go up two by two.

The first couple to go up is Tom’s parents. My shutter snaps dozens of pictures as Maureen passes a tray with two steaming cups of wulong tea to Jacqueline and Tom. They each pick up a cup and present them, heads bowed, to Tom’s parents. Tom’s parents accept with gracious smiles, take a sip, and then place the cups back on the tray. Tom and Jacqueline bow to them, and then Tom’s dad takes something out of his jacket and presents a piece of paper with a flourish.

The wedding planner announces, “A title deed to your new house!” and the guests ooh and aah and clap. Tom and Jacqueline hug Mr. and Mrs. Sutopo, and I take pictures of them holding up the title deed before Maureen places it in a prepared box.

The next ones to come up are Jacqueline’s parents, who give Jacqueline the brilliant set of jewelry I’d taken photos of earlier that morning and a Chopard watch for Tom—“Limited edition, worth more than a BMW,” announces the WP. The audience claps appreciatively, and the gifts are whisked away to join the title deed in the large velvet box. The rest follow, going from oldest relatives to youngest.

There are more watches—Cartier and Patek—and there are receipts for larger items, like a La Cornue stove from one of Jacqueline’s aunties, and a Hastens bed from an uncle. Then there is jewelry—again, more Cartier, a couple of Bulgari, and a smattering of Tiffany. And of course, as usual, there are the red packets. These ones are bulging, stuffed with stacks of hundred-dollar bills. I catch sight of an auntie stuffing her red packet with more wads of cash; evidently she’s feeling outmatched by all the insane gifts. I feel bad for her. No doubt about it, the tea ceremony is the most stressful one for the extended family.

By the time they’re done, Maureen has had to ask for another box to hold all the gifts. Everyone claps and proceeds to a different hall to have lunch.

“Do you still need me around?” Seb says, glancing up from his camera screen. “Or can I head for lunch?”

“Go, I’ll be fine. Thanks for dealing with the groomsmen and everything.”

“Anytime. I’ll see you later.”

I see Maureen struggling to pick up both boxes and hurry toward her, slinging my camera strap over my shoulder.

“Let me help you with that.”

She glances up, startled. “Oh, that’s totally fine, I can manage.”

I watch, hesitating, as she piles one box on top of the other and grunts, lifting. The top box wobbles precariously, and I leap forward, catching it just in time before it topples over and rains expensive jewelry everywhere.

“Oof, thanks. I guess I can’t manage after all.”

“How come no one else is helping out with this? The stuff’s heavy.”

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