Page 27 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

“We come now.” She stabs at my phone, disconnecting thecall in the middle of Annabelle saying, “Hang on—” She nods at us. “Come, we go now.”

I wish I could simply agree and rush out with the rest of them, but I have to point out the obvious: “I don’t know that we should storm some teenager’s house. Are there laws against that? Would it technically be breaking and entering? Or harassment? I don’t know what the laws are like here, but it feels wrong to barge into a teen’s house?”

Big Aunt looms before me, and even though I’m at least an inch taller than her, somehow she’s looking down on me and I’m gazing up, quaking with familiar fear. When she does speak, her voice carries with it the weight of gods. “They will thanking us for teaching this child good manner.”

Abi, Ma, and the other aunties all nod solemnly. “Yes, this true,” Second Aunt says with gravity. “They will all say, ‘Wah, I fail to raise my child good, I so embarrass, thank you for teaching her manner.’ ”

“Okay...” I’m not sure if I’m truly convinced, but I know when I’m outnumbered, especially since it happens all the time. And anyway, we do need to get the title deed back, so it’s not like we have a better option. As my insides churn with conflicting emotions, I follow my aunties out of the restaurant and into the huge minivan once more. I can’t stop myself from picking at my fingernails as the minivan trundles down the roads toward Annabelle’s house. This feels wrong. But we don’t have a choice. And plus, I’m in Indonesia, not California, and the culture is vastly different here. My aunts would know better what is socially acceptable. Maybe they’re right, maybe people would be grateful when complete strangers scold their kids.

When we arrive at Annabelle’s house, Big Aunt reaches over the chauffeur’s shoulder and smacks her palm down on the carhorn. The honk blasts through the air, making me jump. “Jesus, Big Aunt, stop—”

She lifts her hand for just one second before slamming it back down.Hooonk. Honk. Honk.

I’m about to bodily yank her back into her seat when the gates open and poor Annabelle slips out, looking harried. It’s an expression I’ve become very familiar with over the years, witnessing it often on the faces of people dealing with my mom and aunties. Annabelle waves at us with a half grimace, half smile as she rushes toward the minivan. Big Aunt gives a satisfied “harrumph” and leans back in her seat.

“Um, hi, everyone.” Annabelle does a small bow as she climbs into the car. “Hi, Grandaunt Friya, Grandaunt Enjelin, Grandaunt Natasya, Grandaunt Mimi, and Auntie Meddy.” She notices Abi and quickly adds, “Hi, Om.” Everyone nods happily. Wow, I’m impressed. Annabelle is trained well, knowing enough to greet each auntie individually instead of the Westernized way of simply saying, “Hi, everyone.”

I scoot to one side and she settles in next to me. “I’m so sorry for dragging you out like this,” I say with a grimace.

Annabelle glances at Ma and the aunties before she swallows. “Of course, not a problem. I’m so sorry that my friend’s being really weird about it all. I’m sure if we show up at her house, she’ll feel bad and return the red packet. She’s not normally like this.” She tells the chauffeur Rochelle’s address, and we start on our way. For a few moments, there’s a painfully polite silence as Annabelle smiles with pursed lips and we smile back at her with equally tight lips. I scramble my mind to think of something to say to her, but Big Aunt beats me to it.

“So where you know such a rude girl from?” Big Aunt demands.

“Oh, um, school.”

“Harrumph.” Big Aunt narrows her eyes. “You go to Singapore school, right? This why I tell your mother, don’t send you to Singapore school, they are too Westernized already. Better to send you to Taiwanese school.”

“Um...” Annabelle nods hesitantly, her eyes wide, probably wondering if Big Aunt is actually about to bully her mother into taking her out of her current school. (The answer to this is yes, obviously.) “Well, uh, like I said, she’s not normally like this.” Then she quickly adds, “I’m not talking back, I’m not disagreeing with you, Grand-Aunt. You’re totally right. But most of the kids at my school are very respectful.”

Second Aunt narrows her eyes and leans forward. “So most of the kids there are good kids, but why you have to befriend this no-good one?” She stabs a very aggressive index finger at Annabelle’s face. “You need to learn how to make better friends, otherwise aiya. You mix up with no-good crowd, then celaka deh.”

Poor Annabelle shrinks back, nodding, her eyes pinned to Second Aunt’s finger.

“Oh god, give the poor kid a break,” Fourth Aunt says. “It’s good of her to have friends who aren’t all nerds.” She winks at Annabelle, who only looks even more terrified, probably because she has no idea how she should react to this. My heart goes out to the poor girl. “Stick to this Rochelle kid, she sounds like she knows how to have fun,” Fourth Aunt continues.

“Hah!” Ma snorts. “You see? You see what bad influence you are?”

Fourth Aunt rolls her eyes. “If by ‘bad influence’ you mean I’m trying to allow teens to live a little in an extremely restrictive environment, then sure.”

I can practically see the cogs in Ma’s brain whirring frantically as she tries to parse through what Fourth Aunt just said. After a moment, Ma grumbles, “Bad influence.” She turns to Annabelle. “You don’t listen to her, she is always like this, always disrespectfulling her elders, very bad.”

Annabelle nods slowly, her wide eyes roaming everywhere. She looks like she’s half considering jumping out of the moving vehicle.

Time for me to rescue her. “So tell me more about your interest in photography.”

Annabelle’s shoulders relax a little and her face breaks out into a smile. “Oh yeah. Well, my mom gave me a secondhand Canon 1D for my birthday last year, and I’ve been taking all sorts of photos with it.” She takes out her phone and opens up her Gallery, and for the rest of the ride, we discuss photography with an intense determination, partly to make it clear to everyone else that we’re done discussing manners, etc., but also, to my delight, Annabelle’s a real photography buff, and it’s refreshing to be able to talk about technique and lighting and different lenses.

Before we know it, the chauffeur announces that we have arrived. We all climb out of the minivan and geez, Rochelle’s house is huge. Not as big as Julia Child’s ridiculous estate, but it’s definitely awe-inspiring.

“Yeah,” Annabelle says, as though reading our minds, “Rochelle’s family is loaded.”

Big Aunt snorts again. “Harrumph. This probably why she so spoiled, and so sombong.”

“Mm, yes, all this rich people, they are the most sombong ones in Indonesia,” Ma agrees.

Annabelle texts Rochelle to let her know that we’re outsideof her house, and a moment later, there is a buzz and the gates swing open. We trudge inside, and when we get to the towering front door, Annabelle knocks on it. Nothing happens. Annabelle gives us an apologetic look. “Might take a while because their house is so big, it takes some time to get to the front door.”

Big Aunt reaches out and slams her fist into the door.Bang. Bang. Bang.

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