Page 12 of Four Aunties and a Wedding

I shoot Staphanie an apologetic glance. She and her family must think we’re cavepeople, but they’re busy grappling with the numerous carry-ons and passports and an assortment of snacks and drinks they’ve bought outside the gate. Well, at least they’re not witnessing this.

Fourth Aunt awakes with a startled snort and leaps out of the chair. “Ah? Yes, ready!” Straightening her scarf, she grabs her (Class One) Louis Vuitton handbag and stalks to the counter, orange scarf fluttering behind her.

“Ready to go?” Nathan says.

I nod, gathering my stuff, and together we board the plane.

First Class! Even my family’s usual antics aren’t capable of taking away the magic of the experience for me.

“Good afternoon, Ms.Chan, welcome on board,” a flight attendant says in a lovely English accent. “May I show you to your seat?”

May he? Of course he may! I smile and follow him to the cabin, where there are rows of beautiful brown leather seats that are too big for me to fill. Amazing.

“Here is your seat, and would you like a warm—”

“Hullo. Eh, hullo, luv!” The unmistakable voice of Big Aunt fills the cabin. I swear, literally every soul on the plane stops to stare.

Nathan and I freeze, and then crane our necks to see Big Aunt, nestled in one of the huge seats, waving at a flight attendant. She comes over with a puzzled smile.

“Yes, Ms.Chan? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah, yes, luv,” Big Aunt says, still in that strange, awful new accent of hers that makes me want to stab a knife straight into my brain. “I have a hot cuppa, can or not? Thanks, luv.”

To her credit, the flight attendant doesn’t show any outwardemotion. She merely smiles and says, “Of course. One hot tea coming up.”

“Toodle pip, cheerio!”

I turn to Nathan in a panic. “I think she’s having a stroke.”

He laughs and puts our bags in the overhead compartment. “She’s fine.”

I hurry to Big Aunt’s seat and crouch down next to her. “Hi, Big Aunt.”Step carefully, Meddy. It’s still Big Aunt, even though, apparently, some sort of deranged British alien has wormed its way into her head and taken over her tongue.

“Ah, Meddy, Nathan! You okay?” Big Aunt says.

“No,” Ma scolds from the seat next to her. “You suppose to say, ‘Alright, Nathan, luv?’ ”

Big Aunt nods somberly, then turns to us and says, “Alright, Nathan, luv?”

My smile is fighting to turn into a grimace. “What’s going on? Why are you speaking like that?”

“Surprise!” Ma says. “We all been taking lessons to speak British!”

Big Aunt nods with obvious pride.

“Yes, we all do so we don’t make you lose face,” Second Aunt says from the row behind them.

It hits me then that for the past few months, Ma and the aunties have been speaking more in English and less in Mandarin or Indonesian. I’d noticed it weeks ago but thought nothing of it. Now I realize they’d been preparing for this trip, so they’d be more comfortable speaking British slang. I’m torn between affection and embarrassment: story of my life. I mean, the fact that they went to all this trouble is so incredibly sweet, but also, argh!

“Speak for yourselves. I only went along with it so I’ll be able to impress Prince Harry,” Fourth Aunt says. “No offense, Meddy. But I’m just here for Harry.”

“He married, you hussy!” Ma snaps. “Married to nice girl, very good girl, not like you.”

“Who knows, they might be receptive to the idea of an open marriage.”

Ma’s face turns an alarming shade of purple, but before she can utter a word, I quickly say, “That’s nice, but I don’t think the English accents are necessary. Thank you for taking lessons; that’s amazing! But I prefer your normal accents.”

I elbow Nathan, who nods quickly. “Yeah, Meddy’s right. Your normal speech is great. Terrific.”

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