Page 51 of Four Aunties and a Wedding

She frowns. “Weren’t you just there?”

“Oh, right. Yeah. I mean, sure. Whatever.” Wow, I am so bad at this.

Staphanie narrows her eyes.

“He wasn’t there,” I say quickly.

“What do you mean, he wasn’t there?” Staphanie growls.

“I mean, I don’t know, I think Second Aunt said some really horrible things to him this morning and told him to go.” It hits me then that I should lean into the whole “My family is mafia” angle. “You know how forceful my family can get,” I add in the most cryptic voice I can muster.

Staphanie’s frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

I’m saved from having to reply by my family arriving like avenging angels. Close up, they’re even more intimidating. I swear they’re practically sweating murder vibes.

“You don’t seem to be taking very many pictures,” Fourth Aunt says in a syrupy sweet voice.

Without taking her eyes off me, Staphanie lifts her camera and clicks the shutter. “There,” she says. She smooths down the front of her pants and takes a deep breath. Then she leans toward me and mutters, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing messing with us, but you’re going to regret it.”

If it weren’t for Lilian, I would grab that Canon 5D Mark III and smash it into her face. Well, I wouldn’t, because of all the guests. And also the fact that I’m a complete coward through and through. I’m not even passive-aggressive; I’m more passive-passive. I can’t be oppressed because I’m basically a human mattress.

Luckily, Nathan arrives with his family in tow, saving us from any further interaction. Fourth Aunt looks just about ready to plunge her blinged-out claws into Staphanie’s throat.

“We’re all here,” Nathan says with his easy, boyish grin. “Picture time!”

Dread fills my guts as Staphanie gives a bitter smile and gestures to her camera. “This is going to be a family portrait to remember.”

•••

Group portraits are one of my least favorite parts of weddings. As someone who is naturally soft-spoken, having to corral hundreds and often thousands of guests into a cohesive group is a nightmare. Add smartphones to the picture (ha!) and you’ve got a recipe for a disaster. There hasn’t been a wedding in recent years where I haven’t had to (nicely) shout at groups of well-meaning uncles or aunties who rush out of the group to grab pictures with their phones.

Our family portraits are just as bad as expected, what with the number of people involved. Ama is helping to guide Nathan’s grandparents into position while Staphanie tags along behind her and whispers something to her. My heart rate triples at the sight of the two of them muttering to each other. She must be filling Ama in on what I said about Second Uncle. Why had I said that stuff to her? What the hell was I thinking?

Finally, Ama calls out, “Okay, is look good, I think ready for first photo.” She steps off to the side.

“Yep!” Staphanie says with false brightness. “Looking good, guys!” She raises her camera.

“Um, excuse me?” Annie says.

Staphanie lowers her camera and forces a smile. “Yes?”

“Um, not to be a bother, but this photo is supposed to be the bride, groom, and the grandparents only?”

I look over and find that Big Aunt has positioned herself right next to Nathan’s grandparents.

“Oh yes, is okay, innit, mate,” Ma calls out. “Big Aunt like a grandma to Meddy, matey, ahoy!”

Oh god. I try to shoot Ma mental messages like, “Stop sayingmate; you are not a twentysomething guy at the pub!” Also, “WHY ARE YOU SPEAKING LIKE A PIRATE?”

Nathan laughs and says, “That’s totally fine. Love having you here, Big Aunt.” He smiles at Big Aunt, putting his arm around her shoulders and posing for the photo.

The picture is taken, we thank his grandparents and Big Aunt, and Staphanie calls out the next people. “Next one is bride and groom plus parents from both sides.”

I can’t help but notice that Ama is walking away. Where is she going? But I don’t get a chance to point this out to my family as they all march forward and take their place next to us.

Nathan’s parents gape as the four women gather around us.

“Um, hang on,” Annie titters, smiling uncomfortably, “not to be a bother, but um, the list does say parents only?”

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