Page 31 of Well, That Was Unexpected

“Good.”

“Great.” He must’ve sensed my mood, because he doesn’t say anything else.

The private villas are tucked into one side of the resort, away from the noise and vibrancy of the main building. Here, it’s more tranquil, each villa hidden behind a wall.

“This is yours,” Fauzi says, handing Mama three key cards. “A two-bedroom villa.”

Mama, Kiki, and I wave to the rest of the group and go through the carved wooden gate. We’re greeted by a beautiful courtyard complete with a fountain wreathed with more fresh flowers, and our “villa” is larger than our house back in LA. Mama waves a key card at the door and the lock snicks open. We step inside and…holy crap.

Kiki squeals and runs in. Without the weight of George and his stupidly rich family, I do the same, rushing through the incredibly beautiful living room to the other side, where there are massive glass doors that open out into a private infinity pool. There’s even a cabana on one side of the pool with a day bed that’s just begging to be slept in. The bedrooms are equally breathtaking. The master bedroom is obviously designed for honeymooners—there is an astonishingly large tub near the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the private pool.

“How romantic,” Mama says with a sigh.

“Ew. You can have this room. I’ll share the other one with Kiki.” I cross the living room into the other bedroom, where Kiki has already claimed the bed closest to the window. I can’t resist jumping into the bed. Heaven. The sheets are creamy smooth and the pillows are made of fluffy clouds. The entire villa is set at a comfortable temperature that makes me want to take a warm bath and then burrow into this unbelievably light duvet and reada book until I fall asleep. Oh, please, universe, let me just do that this entire trip instead of—

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your first interview?” Kikisays.

I groan out loud. “Don’t start.”

“No, but really. You don’t want to look gross on camera. That stuff’s forever on the internet, you know. And no offense, but you look like you’ve been traveling all day.”

I glare at her. I guess she’s right. I feel like I’m covered in travel grime, despite having traveled in the most stylish way possible. Kiki, on the other hand, looks as fresh as a newly picked rose. “How come you look all perky and nice?”

She smiles and bats her eyelashes at me. “I take my toiletries with me on flights. Before we landed, I went and washed my face and brushed my teeth and redid my makeup. I’m a pro at flying. Off you go. Once you’ve showered I’ll help you get ready. I’ve got all this makeup from South Korea. Top-of-the-line stuff.”

Grumbling, I do as Kiki orders and take a shower. The bathroom has a side that’s all glass, which makes me feel a bit exposed at first, but upon further inspection, thanks to the brilliant design of the villa, I realize that no one can look into the bathroom. Cunning. I enjoy the shower a lot more than I thought I would; there’s something super calming about showering while gazing out at flowers and plants and our private pool. When I’m done, I shrug on a peach-colored summer dress that has a cute front chest tie. Very tropical beach. Then I go into the adjoining walk-in closet, where Kiki has laid out her makeup bag on the vanity table. She’s got a whole arsenal of makeup. Makeup forthe barrage of interviews I’m about to face. My stomach knots, but I make myself sit down in front of the vanity.

I hate to admit it, but Kiki obviously knows what she’s doing. She slathers primer on my face, followed by BB cream and concealer, and by the time she’s done, my skin looks dewy and fresh and spotless. She moves on to my eyes next, lining them with a deep-brown pencil before smudging it so it looks natural. Mama walks in as Kiki’s just finishing up with a berry-colored lip tint. “Ah,” Mama says with a smile. “Prepping for the interviews?”

I can’t help but notice that Mama has had a shower herself and put on a beautiful yellow wrap dress and more makeup than usual. The sight of her looking so much more vibrant than I’ve ever seen her lights a fire in my gut. How dare she have so much fun while I’m stuck in a nightmare?

“Don’t glower like that, you’re making it hard for me to put this stuff on,” Kiki scolds.

“I can’t help it!” I say, and I feel tears rushing into my eyes. Ugh, gross. Stop that, self! I turn away and blink them away before Mama can see, and then I snap, “This is all your fault, Mama. I didn’t want to come here to Bali. This is so weird!” My words come out poisonous, dripping with venom. I can’t help myself. The thought of Nainai’s kind smile spurs me on. Does Nainai know that I’m a fake? Regardless, I’m lying to everyone and it feels so shitty. I want to make Mama feel as crappy as Ifeel.

Kiki mumbles something about needing her eyebrow pencil and scurries out of the closet.

For a few painful moments, neither Mama nor I speak.Ever since the non-date at Kopi-Kopi, I’ve been so furious at Mama that I’ve taken extra care to avoid her. Now I can’t quite bring myself to look at her, so I focus on my hands. I pick at my thumbnail, worrying at it until a sliver tears off and I can rip it out and focus on the sharp burst of pain. Didn’t take long at all for the peace that had come with this magical place to dissipate. As usual, all it takes is a few minutes with Mama, then all of the bad stuff comes crawling back out of the ground. I mentally prepare myself for the usual barrage of “Why you so ungrateful” and “I do everything for you.”

Instead, when Mama opens her mouth, what she says is “I’m sorry.”

It comes out so quiet and so raw that for a second, I wonder if I’ve misheard. Maybe I’ve wanted to hear these words for so long that my imagination went ahead and made it up. But no, she really did just apologize.

“When George message you, I didn’t think it would come to this…this whole entire thing.” She gestures around us and gives a mirthless laugh. “I didn’t know that his auntie is my childhood best friend. She was always so secretive when we were young. I never thought—she was always so modestly dressed, didn’t have branded bags or anything. How should I know it turns out she is a billionaire? I didn’t think we would be here in Bali. I didn’t think—I didn’t think I’d care this much.”

“About me?” I hate how needy I sound.

“No!” Ma cries. “Of course not talking about you. I always care about you, you know that.”

Yeah, I guess I do know that.

“I mean about all this…coming back here, all my old friends, my family. I didn’t think I would care so much about them, but—” She stops abruptly and stares up at the ceiling, blinking.

With a twist in my gut, I realize she’s trying not to cry. There’s something bigger here. Something she’s always kept hidden from me, something I’ve always wanted to know. Something to do with our past.

So I ask the question I’ve always asked but never received an answer to.

“Why did you never come back to Jakarta? When you had time off work. When I had time off school. You never came back. You never wanted to.”

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