Page 65 of Four Aunties and a Wedding

“Hold up! What are you going to do?”

“We need break his legs, ya? So he fit in wheelchair? Wheelchair only for people cannot walk.” She explains this to me slowly like I’m a particularly dim child.

“Oh yes, Er Jie, you make good point,” Ma says, nodding. “Okay, yes, we break legs.”

“Nobody move!” I yell, holding out my arms like I’m Chris Pratt inJurassic Worldholding off a bunch of raptors. Except instead of raptors, I’m holding back a bunch of meddlesome Chinese-Indo aunties, who I’m pretty sure are more dangerous. “No one needs to break anyone’s legs. You can sit in a wheelchair even if your legs are fine!”

“I not think so, Meddy,” Ma slurs, swaying slightly. “That no good, that is like lying. You know Auntie Liying do that? She get one of those handicap thingy, you know, put in her car. Then she park in handicap spot. Wah, so bad, I always tell her, you lying to everyone. We cannot like that. So not honor. If other people find out, she will lose face.”

“Yes, we not liars,” Second Aunt says. “We got face. Come, we break legs now.”

“Or we could cut off his legs,” Fourth Aunt says.

“That is not how losing face works! Jesus, did the weed turn you all into homicidal maniacs or did you all have this tendency from the very beginning? Listen up. Nobody. Is. Hurting. Anybody. Okay? Got that?”

Second Aunt and Ma nod sullenly. I turn to Big Aunt and Fourth Aunt, who have been strangely quiet this whole time. Big Aunt is still sniffling in one corner about how much she adores me, and Fourth Aunt is touching up her makeup. Well, I say touching up, but really she’s slathering the stuff on like it’s war paint. The two of them seem completely oblivious to the drama that’s just gone down. I guess it’s just as well. I’m not entirely confident they would’ve been on my side, and if it had been the four of them against me, I’m pretty sure Third Uncle would be missing his legs by now.

Luckily, the wheelchair arrives not long after. I hiss at Second Aunt and Ma to stay put and not cut off anyone’s legs before rushing to the door.

“Here is the wheelchair you requested, miss!” Dan says proudly. “Is there anything—”

“Great! Thanks, Dan. Bye, Dan!” I practically yank the wheelchair out of his hands before slamming the door in his face. I know I’m being awfully rude, but I can’t guarantee that right at this very moment, my mother and aunt aren’t in the process of severing somebody’s limbs. I shove the wheelchair into the bedroom, breathing hard, and sag with relief to see Third Uncle still intact on the floor. “Okay, great. Let’s move!”

It is unfairly hard to move dead weight off the ground. Well, not “dead,” knock on wood, but unconscious weight. It is even harder to move unconscious weight when the people you’retrying to move it with are drunk/high. Gathering my voluminous skirt and shoving it behind me, I loop Third Uncle’s right arm around my shoulders and Ma flings his other arm around hers, but almost immediately she falls over from the weight of it. Second Aunt rushes forward to catch Ma, and the two of them go down with a loud thump that I’m sure will get Dan summoned to our room yet again.

In the end, it takes all five of us to lift him off the floor and into the wheelchair. There’s a lot of cussing and squawking involved, and by the time he’s in, we’re all breathing hard. I crouch down and do my best to loop the rope around his ankles as securely as I can. Then I stand back and stare at our handiwork.

It’s not great. His head is flopped back at a severe angle, his Adam’s apple jutting out obscenely. It’s obvious to any passersby that he’s unconscious.

Fourth Aunt must have had the same thought I have, because she pushes his head upright. But as soon as she lets go, it flops back again, his mouth gaping open.

“Wake up, dude, I’m late for my performance,” she says, pushing it forward and then letting it drop back again.

“No, what are you doing?” I say, grabbing her wrist. “We don’t want to wake him up.”

“We don’t?” She blinks at him. “Oh yeah, you’re right. We don’t. Oops. But what about my show? My fans are waiting!”

Her show? It takes a moment for me to recall her imaginary, marijuana-fueled show. “Right, your show. Don’t worry, Fourth Aunt, there’s still like an hour before the show. We need to figure out a way to wheel him out of here without anyone finding out that he’s knocked out, okay? And then we’ll go to your show.” I grab a blanket off the bed and arrange it on top of him, tucking it securely down underneath him and wrapping him uplike a burrito. Okay, at least that covers the rope. And for the head...

Inspiration strikes. “Ma, where’s your travel pillow? I know you took it with you for the plane ride.”

“The plane ride to come England and marry off my only niece,” Big Aunt whispers in a heartbroken voice.

“Uh, yes, that plane ride.”

“The one come here to marry off my only daughter,” Ma wails. The two of them clutch at each other and start crying loudly.

Goddammit. I squash down the part of myself that’s aching to hug them and reassure them that I’ll always be their daughter and niece. There’s no time for that. Instead, I head for Ma’s luggage. I rifle through her belongings with ruthless efficiency until I locate the travel pillow, then walk past Ma—who’s still wailing—and wrap the pillow around Third Uncle’s neck. I step back and survey him again. Okay, it’s not great, but it looks less alarming. He looks less unconscious and more asleep. I pull out one of Ma’s scarves from her luggage and wrap it around his head, covering his hair. For the finishing touch, I pluck a pair of sunglasses off the table and place them on his face. By the time I’m done, Third Uncle is barely recognizable. In fact, it’s next to impossible to tell if it’s even a man or a woman sitting in the wheelchair.

“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing with that?” Fourth Aunt cries, pulling the sunglasses off his face. “These are Hermès!”

Ma abruptly stops crying. “You buy Hermès? Gila, you so wasteful! Spend money like water and still borrowing money from us all the time! When you will stop becoming so irresponsible?”

Big Aunt dabs at her eyes while nodding. “Is my fault. I spoil Mimi. Just like I spoil Meddy. Now Meddy leaving me.”

“Oh my god, it’s a Class One Hermès, okay?” Fourth Aunt snaps. “Get it together.”

“Aha! Knockoff,” Ma gloats. “Tuh kan, I know you can only afford fake. Just like your Louis Vuitton luggage, all fake. Like your face.”

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