Page 35 of Well, That Was Unexpected

By the time they end, I’m exhausted, but in a good way. We leave the meeting room just like we entered—holding hands, but as soon as we’re safely out of sight from the reporters and the cameras, we immediately let go. Not sure who let go of whose hand first, we’re both so eager to not be touching each other. We walk through the grand lobby and stand at the top of the stairs, looking down at the rest of the resort. It’s late afternoon, the endless blue sky starting to get a violet hue to it. It won’t be long before the lights come on all over the resort, turning it into something magical.

“Thanks for saving me in there,” I say to Sharlot.

She shrugs and looks at me from the corner of her eye. “No probs. But what happened in there? I thought you grew up with these kinds of things.”

“I did. I don’t know, I guess it just hit me that it’s the first time I’ve been interviewed about my personal life.”

“Seriously? I find that hard to believe.”

“No, I mean like—” I struggle to find the right words. “There have been tons of profiles done on me before, but they’re all pretty tame, you know? Oh, George Tanuwijaya’s on the swim team. Hobbies include gaming. You know, nothing that would land me on the first page of anything. But now I realize that this is…the kind of thing that can really blow up, and I wasn’t, um, I guess I wasn’t mentally prepared for it. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize how weird it must be for you too. But you were amazing.”

“That’s because I’ve perfected the art of not giving a shit.”

I’m so taken aback by this that I laugh. “You’re so different from what I expected,” I blurt out. What I really meant was that she’s so much more interesting than I had thought she would be based on our chat messages. Online, she’s uptight and prissy and all about maintaining a good-Asian-kid persona. In real life, she’s none of those things.

She loses her smile. “Sorry if I disappoint.”

“That wasn’t what I meant—”

But it’s too late. I’ve killed the moment. Sharlot puts her arms around herself. “Anyway, I should go back to my room. My mom and cousin are probably wondering where I am.”

“Okay. Um.” I have no idea what to say. “See you at dinner.”

“Yep, see you,” she says, without bothering to even look at me as she walks away.

Later that evening, we gather at the hotel lobby to find a line of Alphards waiting to take us to the restaurant for dinner. This is definitely a different life from what I’m used to. I feel even more self-conscious than before, despite the pretty dress I’ve borrowed from Kiki and the flawless makeup she’s once again applied to my face. Mama walks ahead of us, her head held high and her ankle-length dress fluttering in the evening breeze. I’m not used to this version of her. I’m used to seeing her in her pantsuits, hair tied back into a supertight bun, exuding an aura of no-nonsense. Here, she’s laid-back and cheerful and like…a woman instead of a mother, which is utterly weird.

Oh god, it just strikes me that maybe she’s got a crush on someone. Maybe it’s George’s dad. Eww. Can people in their late thirties even have crushes? That’s, like, way ancient to have a crush. Still, I can’t deny that Mama in Indonesia is so different from Mama in California, and it makes my chest tighten to see how alive she is. I hadn’t realized that the mama I knew back home was only a watered-down version of herself. I gaze at herfor the longest time, wanting to apologize to her but unable to swallow my pride. With no small amount of difficulty, I tear my thoughts away from the very disturbing possibility of Mama liking George’s dad in that way.

Nainai is already there and her entire face brightens when she sees me. I greet her and everyone else, avoiding George’s eye, before trying to jump into one of the Alphards with Mama and Kiki. But Nainai stops me and says, “Oh, you lovebirds must sit with each other!” Argh.

George gives me an apologetic grimace. Without any choice, I climb into the back of the Alphard with him. I sit as far off to one side as possible, hoping George would sit at the other side. Instead, he sits in the middle seat. I’m about to ask him to move over when Eleanor clambers in and squeezes in next to George. Even though she’s tiny, she somehow takes up a ton of space, pushing George until he’s pressed right up against my side. I am painfully aware of the warmth of his body against mine. At least he looks as uncomfortable about it as I feel.

We don’t talk to each other the entire ride. Eleanor, Nainai, and Papa chat easily and I answer any questions thrown my way as politely as I can. I swear this is the longest car journey I have ever been on. When we finally get there, George and I scramble out with obvious relief.

Then George turns to face me and says, “Ready?” He holds out a hand.

I stare at it like it’s an alien tentacle until he raises his eyebrows. Oh, right, we’re supposed to be a couple. Argh. I take his outstretched hand before immediately yanking my hand backand wiping my palm on my dress. Both our palms are equally sticky. Then I take his hand again and follow his dad and Eleanor into the restaurant.

The restaurant we’re at is called Café Menega, but it’s less café and more beachside seafood restaurant with a huge crowd of people spilling out of it. Most of them are, terrifyingly, George’s family members. How are Chinese-Indo families this humongous?

“Um, just so you know,” George murmurs as we walk inside, “we have a Tanuwijaya family group chat and uh, everyone has heard about us and they’re all dying to meet you.”

I only have time to say, “Wait, a family group what?” before the first of the Tanuwijaya clan descends upon us. The aunties lead the charge, of course. A murder of aunties with huge, permed hair and faces painted with thick makeup despite the sweltering heat.

“George!” one auntie cries. “Finally, you arrive!”

“Hi, Third Aunt,” George says, “apa kabar?”

I know enough about Indonesian custom to slightly bow my head to the aunties and say, “Hi, Tante, apa kabar?” Their gazes immediately shift from George to me. I feel a little like a zoo animal being scrutinized by visitors.

Third Aunt gives me a once-over, her eyes glittering with interest. “Oh, hello! Is this…your girlfriend that I’ve been hearing so much about?”

I look up at George with panicky eyes, probably looking like a rabbit that’s gotten caught in a trap. I should tell her that I am, but now that I’m actually standing here before them, I feel so self-conscious about our lie, so certain that they’ll be ableto smell the bullshit and call us out. There’s only a flicker of hesitation on George’s face before he says, smoothly, “Yes, this is Sharlot, my girlfriend.”

The auntie’s grin widens like a cartoon shark when it senses blood in the water. She grabs a nearby uncle and says in rapid Indonesian, “Eh! Ah Leong, look, it’s George’s girlfriend!”

I mean, sheesh, I am literally standing right here.

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