Page 47 of Four Aunties and a Wedding

“Let’s tie them to the radiator,” I suggest. But doing it is easier said than done, especially in my lovely, multilayered dress. God, my dress. All these layers of tulle and exquisite lace. It seems silly to worry about it, but seriously, a huge part of me is going, “Don’t get it dirty or torn!” Not to mention the fact that it is really hard to carry a full-grown man while wearing an unforgiving corset.

Big Aunt and Fourth Aunt do their best to help me, but by the time we manage to drag him to the wall, we’re all out of breath. I take one of Fourth Aunt’s cable ties, loop it around the radiator pipe, and secure Big Uncle’s wrist to it. We go over to Second Uncle and do the same to his wrist after tightening his bindings.

Then we stand up, exhale, and study our handiwork.

“Okay, can. This good enough,” Big Aunt says, turning her attention back to the electric kettle.

Fourth Aunt goes to the dressing table to wrestle her fascinator back onto her head while I stay there, staring at the two men who are now tied up to the radiator in my bridal room. How the hell did we get here? I look at Big Uncle’s slack face. His mouth is hanging half open. I keep thinking of the expression on his face as he burst into the room.

He had been really scared of Big Aunt, which is most definitely weird, right? I mean, people are usually intimidated by Big Aunt. She exudes this aura of “Don’t try me, kid; I will take off my sandal and beat you over the head with it.” Not that she’s ever done that to me—oh no, not pliant, submissive me—but she has done it plenty of times to my cousins, especially heryounger son, Russ. So the fact that Big Uncle had been so uncertain around her isn’t out of the ordinary. But it had been more than just uncertainty; he had beenfearful. The look that had crossed his face was real animal fear—survival fear—not “Uh-oh, she might take out her feather duster and whack me across the legs with it” fear. And he had called her...

“Lao da,” I say.

Fourth Aunt laughs, glancing up as she stabs the final hairpin into place. The kettle boils then, and she pours out hot water into three cups. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“Lao” technically means “old.” In Chinese culture, age isn’t just a number, but also a measure of reverence. The older you are, the more revered, the more powerful. “Da” means “big.” I’m pretty sure Big Uncle wasn’t just calling Big Aunt “old and big,” but something else. “What does it mean?”

“It means ‘boss,’ ” Fourth Aunt says, grinning. She hands the first cup to Big Aunt. “Here you go, Lao Da.”

Big Aunt takes the cup with a purse of her lips. “You boil water too long, it get too hot. You know should not let water boil with these leaves, they cannot take too hot water.”

Fourth Aunt rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Wait, but I thought ‘boss’ is ‘lao ban’?” I say.

“ ‘Lao da’ is like an informal way of saying ‘boss,’ ” Fourth Aunt explains. “It’s used when you’re with friends, or—”

“In a gang?” I say. “Is it what they call gang leaders?”

There’s a pause. Big Aunt finishes taking a sip of the tea and nods. “Yes, Meddy, usually gang leader we call ‘Lao da.’ Show respect, but not so formal like in office.” She catches me staring at her and frowns. “Ada apa?”

“Uh. He called you that.”

“He call me that?” Her frown deepens. “Where got? I not remember. When he call me that?”

Fourth Aunt snorts with laughter. “Oh, yeah! He did, didn’t he? When he came in and saw his brother on the floor, he was like, ‘Sorry, Lao da!’ Ha! That’s funny, isn’t it, Da Jie? Lao da. Wait until I tell Er Jie about this. She’s going to love the fact that someone called you ‘Lao da.’ And by ‘love,’ I mean she’s going to absolutely hate it.”

“I think maybe you not tell her,” Big Aunt says, but she says it in a tone of voice that clearly means:Oh yes, tell Second Aunt, and make sure I’m around when you tell her so that I can see her reaction.

“Hang on, I think you’re missing the point here,” I say, raising my voice to be heard above Fourth Aunt’s cackle. “Um. The point is... he called you Lao Da, which is weird, and he seemed really scared of you, Big Aunt, like fearful. Like he was scared that you were going to actually hurt him.” I glance down at his prone body and add, “I mean, he wasn’t wrong. But um, I think there’s something more here.” There’s something niggling at the back of my head, something that’s calling out to be heard, oh god, what is it—

“Oh my god,” I gasp.

Both my aunts peer at me with raised brows. “Yes?” Big Aunt says.

“Second Uncle!” I cry. They both jump and look at him, and I say, “No, he’s not up. I just remembered what he said when we came in the room! He said, ‘Mafia!’ I thought he was talking about his own family, but he wasn’t. He meant us. They think we’re mafia!”

19

Silence.

Big Aunt and Fourth Aunt might as well be statues, they’re sitting so still. Then Fourth Aunt throws her head back and howls with laughter. “Oh my god, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Can you imagine us as the mafia?”

All too easily, I want to tell her, but decide it would be wisest not to say that. “I mean, kind of? Look at Staphanie’s family. Would you have guessed that they’re mafia? I didn’t, but well, here we are. And you were telling me how Abraham Lincoln was really sweet and nerdy and now he’s apparently a mafia lord.”

“Yeah, but there’s like—” Fourth Aunt flaps her arms for a few moments before dropping them. “I mean, there’s got to be a—some sort of tell, you know? It’s obvious we’re good people.”

“Are we?” I throw a very meaningful look at Big Uncle and Second Uncle.

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