Page 26 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

Hearing the words “Aunt Meddy” come from the mouth of a teen makes me want to crumble into a pile of ancient ash. “Hey, it was so great to see you yesterday. You’ve grown so much.” Oh my god, I’m even speaking like an old woman now.

Annabelle laughs. “Tell that to my mom. She still acts like I’m two.”

I laugh politely. “So anyway, I was looking through the photos from yesterday, and there’s someone I don’t recognize, and”—I give an apologetic grimace—“well, I feel awful about not knowing all of the members of my own family. Can I send you a photo? And maybe you can tell me which of my nieces she is?”

“Oh. Sure!”

I locate the photo in my gallery and send it to her. From the other end, there’s a sharp intake of breath. “Annabelle? You got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that—ah—” I’m distracted by Big Aunt flapping her hand and mouthing, “Ah Gui’s granddaughter.” And next to her, Second Aunt hisses, “It’s Meihua’s granddaughter.” I shake my head, ignoring them, and say, “Is that Uncle Ah Gui’s granddaughter? Or maybe Auntie Meihua’s granddaughter?”

“Oh no,” Annabelle laughs. “That’s my friend Rochelle. She came over to borrow a qipao and decided to stay for a bit to get some red packets. She’s a hoot.”

I look up at the ceiling. Why can’t anything be straightforward when it comes to my family? How did we get to this point, where the person who got the one red packet we’re looking for isn’t even our family? Struggling to keep my voice calm,I lean closer to the phone and say, “Ha-ha, yeah, she sounds great. Um, so, listen, we actually gave her the wrong red packet and we kind of—ah—need it back? But of course we’d be happy to replace it with a proper red packet.”

“A fat one,” Ma calls out.

“Oh, hi! Is that... Grandaunt Natasya?”

“Hallo, Annabelle, yes, it’s me. You so pretty now, ya, what a young lady you are.”

“Aww, thank you, Grandaunt. Anyway, yeah sure, I’m texting her right now.”

There’s a few moments of silence as Annabelle types out her message. It feels as though the seconds are crawling by, each one clawing to remain instead of passing by. A glance at Ma and the aunties and Abi tells me they’re just as anxious and jittery as I am. Big Aunt is glaring at the phone like she could intimidate it into behaving, Second Aunt is endlessly massaging the back of her neck, probably wishing she could lunge into a Tai Chi position, Ma is wringing her hands, and Fourth Aunt is—well, Fourth Aunt is pouting into her mirror while applying more lipstick, so I guess maybe she’s not too bothered by all of this. Next to her, Abi is standing with a clenched jaw, a vein pulsing in his forehead. Despite how reverent he’s been, especially toward Big Aunt, he’s oozing danger. It makes my skin prickle.

Annabelle’s voice makes us jump. “Oh.” She sounds taken aback.

“What is it?” Big Aunt barks.

“Uh, she says—wait, is that Grandaunt Friya? Um, hi, Grandaunt Friya. Didn’t know you were there too.”

“Yes, is me. Now tell us, what she say? Quickly.”

“Oh, ah, she says: ‘Sorry, but no.’ ”

Our breaths collectively catch in our throats. A scream very nearly rips its way out of me, but somehow, I manage to swallow it down. “What do you mean, no?”

“Um, I think it means she wants to keep the red packet she got from you guys?”

I imagine myself putting my hands around this kid’s neck and squeezing. Whoa, okay, Meddy. Take a step back.

Second Aunt grabs the phone and hisses right into it. “Why she say that? Such no manners girl. What kind of not-right kid is this? Hanh?”

“Uh. Hi, Grandaunt Enjelin. Gosh, how many of you are there right now?”

“Doesn’t matter!” Second Aunt is hitting pitch levels that would make Mariah Carey, or a pterodactyl, jealous. “You tell her right now that she need to be respectful of her elders!”

“Okay. Yes, I’m doing that.”

We all glare at the phone as Annabelle types a message, our chests rising and falling rapidly. A few seconds later, she says, “Rochelle says: ‘Nope.’ ”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my aunties looking this enraged. If there’s anything Ma and the aunties cannot abide, it’s teenagers being rude toward their elders and betters. Each of them swells up, their faces turning pink, then red, their nostrils flaring. Part of me shrinks down to the size of a small child, and I have to resist the urge to find a rock to hide under.

“Annabelle,” Big Aunt booms in the Voice of God, “we are go your house now. We pick you up, then you come with us to this Rochelle house.”

“Wait, what?”

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