Page 107 of Dirty Husband
It's still mid-setup. A dozen caterers. Lizzy and her sister. A few people from Shep's company.
And now Mai and Quyen.
"Honey, you look beautiful." Mai holds her arms out for a hug. She doesn't wait for a response. She jumps in. Holds me.
"Too skinny though," Quyen says.
I take a long sip of my drink. The flavors shine. Quinine, lime, gin. Not just sugar.
Mai waves her away. "You think everyone is too skinny." She motions to her sister's boxy yellow dress. "If you care so much, why don't you show off your curves?"
Quyen responds in Vietnamese. The same argument about fashion they always have. Mai is practical to a fault. She'd rather spend money on family, food, education. To her, fashion is a waste.
Quyen is an art teacher. She loves everything visual. Considers fashion another extension of her personality.
They make arguments about their kids. Which is smarter, with a better future ahead of them. They've each got two, but their kids are younger. Barely teenagers now.
I ask about Van and they're off, talking about an expensive summer camp, and how Van wants to take a film class and whether or not that's a good use of time. Film making is an expensive hobby. Not a practical skill. Van isn't like Allison (who now goes by her English name), the smart, responsible teenager who's ready to study optometry.
She's known since she was tiny. The way some people know they want to act or sing or write, she knew she wanted to study eyes. But it wasn't passion so much as practicality.
It drives Quyen crazy that she has the practical daughter. It drives Mai crazy too. But then…
They're just crazy.
I can't help but laugh at their argument. It's so silly. They're like teenagers, not women in their forties.
"Where is this handsome fiancé?" Quyen asks.
"Tell the truth." Mai leans in close. "Is it the money?" she stage whispers, though I'm pretty sure she intends it as a real whisper. "Or is it the sex?"
"What?" I nearly spit out my gin and tonic.
"Please, Jasmine," she says in Vietnamese. "We have to say this before your father gets here. But it's obvious. You have the glow of a woman whose needs are being met."
Quyen nodsyou do. "These things are important in a husband."
Oh God, please don't let them continue.
"I know you think I'm old and traditional, but it wasn't always that way."
"You're in your forties," I say.
She nodsI know, so old now, completely missing my point. "I was your age once. Younger even," Mai says.
"I, uh… thank you. For the advice." I take another sip. Fight a blush. They never talked to me like this when I was younger. I guess a first-class ticket and an afternoon at a fancy hotel change things. Or maybe it's losing Mom. Maybe they want to make sure I have good, motherly advice. "We are… compatible in that way."
They laugh and exchange whispers.
My blush deepens. At least… well, is it so bad if they think I'm marrying him for the sex? Better than thinking I'm rushing down the aisle so Dad can attend my special day.
Or that I'm doing this for a seven-figure payout.
But I can't consider those possibilities right now.
This is… maybe tonight doesn't have to be an overwhelming exercise in faking it. Maybe I can laugh with my aunts and my dad. Maybe I can celebrate love and marriage and forever.
I want to have that one day. A real love, a real marriage, a family of my own. This is just… a dress rehearsal.
