Page 19 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

Abi shifts uneasily, looking down at his hands. “Yessss.”

“Please,” I beg, “don’t—”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to him,” Julia Child says. “He’s here as my guest. We’ll spoil him, don’t you worry. But you will get me my title deed, yes?”

Next to her, Nathan nods at me. He looks surprisingly calm, which is funny given I’m about to freak the hell out. But he pushes his mouth into a smile and says, “You can do this.” And then he winks.

How is he so confident? I want to stay and argue, but already, the door is being opened, and the assistant who led us up here stands there patiently, waiting for us to go. There is nothing else to do but for us to stand up and leave. I turn my head as I walk out the door, and my heart clenches at the sight of Nathan in Julia Child’s impossibly huge room. I will do this. No matter what it takes, I will get that title deed back and claim him from her. After all, how hard can it be to retrieve the title deed from one of our little nieces and nephews,right?

6

By the time we get back to the house, I feel about ready to collapse, but at the same time, my mind is too wired for me to get any sleep. It’s as though my body and mind are at an impasse; one wants to dive back into bed, the other one is a caged animal throwing itself onto the bars of the cage, roaring with frustration and anxiety. It still can’t comprehend just how the hell we ended up in this situation. For the umpteenth time, I walk myself back through the events of the night.

First of all, none of this was even supposed to be my problem. Hell, it’s not even my family’s problem. It was Abi’s issue, Abi’s ass on the line, and Nathan and I had only agreed to come along to show support for Second Aunt. And now, Nathan, my husband (ah!), is a freaking hostage. A literal hostage in a mansion full of “armed” guards. And are we even sure that the rifles are fake, like Abi said? Was Abi telling the truth when he said they’re all law-abiding citizens here? But even ifthey weren’t law-abiding citizens, if they really were mafia, he wouldn’t exactly own up to it, would he? I don’t know, do gangsters readily admit to being gangsters?

I rack my mind, coming up with all the mafia/gangster/cartel TV shows I’ve watched. There’sNarcos. Pablo Escobar. I believe he did call himself a cartel leader. Up until he ran for government. Okay. What aboutThe Sopranos? Oh yeah, they totally referred to themselves as mafia. Okay, so across the board, mafia members tend to be pretty open about identifying themselves as mafia, so the fact that Abi said that they’re just normal businesspeople means—

Who am I kidding? Of course it means nothing. What kind of normal businessperson has armed guards in her estate? And takes people’s husbands hostage? AAAH!

I don’t realize that I’m just standing there in the living room of our family home staring into space and breathing hard until something touches my arm. My muscles explode into movement and I jump, yelping.

“Aduh, Meddy!” Ma cries, patting her chest. “You trying to give me heart attack, ya? Hanh?” She shakes her head and releases her breath.

“Oh my god, sorry, Ma.” I blink several times, trying to clear my head and slow down my speeding heart. “I was—I didn’t hear you coming in.”

Ma sighs. “Come, come to the kitchen, we make tea. Everyone talking. Ayo. Don’t just stand here like patung.”

I’m only half-aware of her taking me by the arm and leading me through the massive dining room and into the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen is somewhat normal-sized and therefore far cozier. The aunties and Abi are gathered around the island. Someone has taken out platters of leftovercakes and cookies, and someone else has brewed a fresh pot of tea. Despite the fact that my world has just fallen apart, the scene is comforting. This is what my family does best. We sip hot tea, eat sweets, and devise a plan together. We’ve weathered so much together. Surely, we can overcome this as well. By morning, everything will be okay. We’ll get Nathan back and we’ll laugh about the ridiculousness of everything together.

“Come, Meddy,” Big Aunt says as she piles almond cookies and kue lapis onto a small plate, “you sit, okay.” She pats the stool next to her and plonks the plate in front of it. “You eat. You look so pale, later you faint how?”

Second Aunt waves a hand and shakes her head in obvious disagreement. “I think maybe better you do exercise, ayo.” She slips off her stool and raises her arms over her head. “Ayo, follow me, Meddy. Get blood flowing to your head, so you not so pale like ghost.”

“Uh...” I’m so dazed that I follow her barked instructions without really thinking about it, and I find myself with my legs parted in a lunge and my arms above my head. And now my mind catches up with the situation and goes:Um, WTF?

Big Aunt must have caught the bewildered expression on my face, because she snaps her fingers at me and says, “Sudah. Ayo, sit. Eat. You need blood sugar, not exercise.”

Second Aunt’s chest puffs up like she’s about to go into a tirade, but Abi rushes to her and pats her on the shoulder, deflating her. I quickly escape to the stool and sit down with a deep sigh.

“Come, eat,” Big Aunt says again, pushing the plate closer to me even though it was already right in front of me to begin with. If I don’t take a bite now, I swear she’ll pick up a cookieand shove it into my mouth. I have no appetite whatsoever, but I force myself to take a bite of almond cookie to appease Big Aunt.

“Mm, this Lapis Surabaya is so good,” Fourth Aunt moans in between bites of cake. “I wish you’d make them more often, Dajie.”

Big Aunt gives one of her trademark I-don’t-want-to-smile-because-it-looks-immodest-but-I’m-very-pleased smiles. Ma tuts. “Tch, is so unhealthy. Thirty egg yolks in just one cake. So wasteful. So expensive. You want Dajie to waste so much money just to make you cake? So ungrateful.”

Fourth Aunt glares at Ma. “Unlike some people who spend their lives determined to be miserable, I know how to enjoy life while I’m still young.”

Ma snorts. “Young? You? You middle-aged already ah!”

Fourth Aunt’s fork clatters to her plate. She looks about ready to lunge at Ma.

“Enough!”

It’s only when they all stare at me that I realize I’ve just shouted at them. Oh my god. I just shouted at my mom and aunties. My survival instincts kick in. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice...” I falter. Well, actually, I did mean to raise my voice, because my poor husband is stuck at a mafia lady’s house and my mom and aunts are squabbling over, of all things, cake. I straighten in my seat, lifting my chin. “I think we all need to focus on how we’re going to fix this and get Nathan back. Okay? Please, no more arguing. Poor Nathan is—” My voice wobbles.

Ma rushes forward, patting me on the hand and grabbing the teapot to pour me more tea. Big Aunt spears a piece of coconut cake and shoves it in my face, saying, “Eat, eat!”Second Aunt and Fourth Aunt squeeze their mouths into thin lines, looking abashed. Abi stares at the floor, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Okay,” Big Aunt announces. She’s got that voice again, the one that says she’s ready to get to work and everybody had better listen the hell up. “Our Nathan is stuck in that Julia Child house.”

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