Page 81 of Dial A for Aunties

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Ignore me, I’m not really thinking straight, I hit my head back there, when—uh. Yeah.” Oh my god, I almost said “I hit my head back there, when Maureen scared the crap out of me with her gun.” Keep it together, self.

To my surprise, something like a laugh squeaks out of Jacqueline’s mouth before she covers it. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I’m sorry, really, I am—”

“No, don’t be sorry. After today, I think you’re right,” she says in a whisper, and then she does a horrified sort of laugh. “I can’t believe I just said that about the guy I’m about to marry.”

“Are you? Still marrying him, I mean.” I know what I hope her answer is. I haven’t known these people very long at all, but talk about beauty and the beast. It’s not even that Tom’s particularly unattractive; he’s just soughin every possible way.

“Yeah, of course—” she falters and looks horrified. “I—I don’t know. Our families are so good together. Our parents get along so well, they’ve got investments with each other, and they’re so keen for us to be married—”

I know all too well what she’s talking about. Within the rich Chinese-Indonesian communities, parents scheme and plan so that their sons and daughters will be able to marry the wealthiest sons and daughters. Given the Sutopos’ vast conglomerate ofcorporations and real estate, Tom is a catch, regardless of his odious personality.

Her last words come out in a whisper: “But he really is a shit, isn’t he?” She half-sobs, half-laughs. “God, I wish Maureen were here. She’s always hated him, you know? Well, she’s always hated whatever guy I dated, but with Tom, god, she was always ranting about how gross he is, and I just never saw it. Honestly? I think I’m more upset about Maureen than any of it. Does that make me a bad person? I haven’t even really thought of that poor dead guy—I mean, Jesus, there was a dead guy at our ceremony! How much more of a bad omen can you get? I can’t believe one of the actors Tom hired turned up dead.”

I blink at her. It takes a while to sink in. Of course. She doesn’t know that Ah Guan wasn’t one of the groomsmen. She doesn’t know anyone in the groom’s bridal party. Nobody does.

“I wish I could talk to Maureen!” Jacqueline wails again, burying her face in her hands. “I miss that asshole so much.”

Great. Of course, the one person she misses just happens to be the woman currently holding my family hostage at gunpoint. My family who’s probably fawning over her and telling her what a great daughter she’d make instead of me.

Ugh, freaking Maureen. Okay. What would Maureen do if she were here? Aside from grabbing the tea ceremony gifts and running away with them, that is. The thought of it makes me frown. Despite everything that’s happened, I can’t reconcile the image of Maureen stealing gifts that were meant for Jacqueline. My mind keeps reeling away from the wrongness of it and resting instead on all those times I caught glimpses of real friendship between the two women. The way Maureen anticipated Jacqueline’s needs and brought her water before she even asked for it. The way Maureen supported Jacqueline’s arms as she stepped into her huge dress. The way the two of them finish each other’s sentences. There’s somuch love there. A lot more than whatever’s between Jacqueline and Tom, that’s for sure.

And that’s when it clicks. Everything falls into place. The theft of the tea ceremony gifts, but the intention to return them. How distraught Maureen was when they found the gifts in her room. She was sorrowful, grieving, not because of the loss of the gifts but because of the loss of her friendship with Jacqueline.

Because Maureen’s in love with Jacqueline.

My hands start flapping like Ma’s and Big Aunt’s and—come to think of it—the rest of my family’s do when they get excited. There’s a squealing sound emanating from somewhere. Takes a while to realize it’s coming from me. Oh my god, oh my god—

“Why do you keep saying ‘Oh my god’?” Jacqueline interrupts her crying to snap at me. “And why are you flapping like a chicken at a slaughterhouse?”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I was saying ‘Oh my god.’” I clear my throat. Gotta buy myself a bit of time, try to figure out how I should tell her—should I tell her? It’s not exactly my secret to tell, and would it help matters? I don’t know—my head’s spinning with so many different pieces of information, like the fact that Maureen is still back in my hotel room with my family as her hostages. Am I putting their lives in danger by telling Jacqueline the truth? What do I do? I’m not equipped to handle this, I can’t—

I can. All my life, I’ve told myself I’m incapable of handling whatever. Whether it’s moving east with Nathan or moving out of Ma’s house or breaking away from the family business and starting out on my own. Again and again, I tell myself I’m not ready. I still lack whatever skills are needed to strike out. But there’s nobody to count on now. Nathan’s been captured by a Podunk sheriff drunk on power, and the rest of my family’s being held at gunpoint. It all comes down to me. I’m the one who started it all. I should be the one who finishes it.

Deep breath. I force my hands to stop flapping. Inhale. I take Jacqueline’s hands. Look her in the eye.

“Jacqueline, do you trust me?”

She takes in a shuddery breath and then nods.

“Good. Then there’s something I need you to do.”

33

I knock on the door to my room and open it a crack before calling out, “It’s me, Meddy. Don’t shoot, I’m coming in.”

A few cheery shouts of “Oh, you back!” and “Ayo, masuk, masuk!” greet me. My family’s way too chipper for people who’re being held at gunpoint, I must say. When I enter, they’re all sitting around sipping tea, even Maureen.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Ma says, looking all surprised, like I haven’t just caught her drinking tea with the literal enemy.

“Nothing. Of course you’d be drinking tea with your kidnapper, because why not?”

“I’m not a kidnapper,” Maureen says, looking affronted.

“Yah, why you being so rude, Meddy? I raise you better than this,” Ma says.

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