Page 43 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

Abi and Julia Child glance at each other and sigh. “Well, there is a high chance that Kristofer has a specific room made for—”

“For what?” I cry out. “For imprisoning people? Torturing them? Oh god. How can you still maintain that he’s a legit businessman?”

Abi frowns. “Not to torture them. God, I’m telling you, we’re not triad leaders. We don’t do such things.”

“No, you just kidnap people and lock them up in a literal cell in your mansions. Oh god,” I moan.

“Tch.” Julia Child shakes her head. “I wouldn’t call it a dungeon. How silly. It’s more like a wine cellar. We all have one, we’re not animals. Where else would we keep our vintage wines, so carefully imported from France, if not the cellar?”

So this is what being gaslit feels like. I honestly have no idea who’s telling the truth. But I guess it doesn’t matter. Either way, whatever they are, legit businesspeople or triad leaders, there is no question about it. We’re still going to get Second Aunt out.

“You can do this,” Abi says to all of us. “Julia Child and I will be waiting right outside. As soon as you get out, we’ll drive you straight to the airstrip. Before the day is over, we’ll all be on a flight out of Jakarta.”

Hope flutters frantically, tangled with fear and anxiety. My hand finds Nathan’s, and our fingers weave through each other’s before squeezing tight. I breathe a little easier, knowing that Nathan is going to be with me every step of the way. And this time, we’re going in with a plan. We’re going to be okay.

12

The minivan is unnaturally quiet as it travels along the highway to Kuningan, where the Ritz is located. I’ve always loved South Jakarta, with the Sudirman Central Business District and Kuningan areas—they are easily two of the most beautiful and modern parts of the city. Growing up in LA, friends have often asked me what Indonesia is like. Most of them see it as thisNational Geographic–esque place where the people live in shacks made of corrugated metal or bamboo huts. A place without electricity or running water. I always wished I could whisk them to Kuningan, or the SCBD, because then they’d see that Jakarta is even more modernized than LA is. Every time I visit Jakarta, there’s a handful of newly built skyscrapers, all of them shiny structures of steel and glass. The skyline never stays still in Jakarta. There is so much development going on all the time.

But now I’m unable to enjoy any of the scenery. As I gaze out of the window, all I can think of is how much danger we’re in, and how we’re about to willingly go into yet more danger. The skyscrapers around us cease to be beautiful. Now they just look menacing. We’re entangled with such powerful people. These people probably own many of the towering buildings we’re passing by. I feel miniscule, a tiny ant going up against Goliath.

As though reading my mind, Nathan puts his hand over mine, reassuringly big and warm, and gives me a small smile. For his sake, I try to smile back, though I can feel that it doesn’t reach my eyes. My cheeks tremble at the effort it’s taking for me to hold the smile.

Ma and the aunts aren’t talking either, and for once in my life, I wish that they were. Their nagging and constant bickering always gets on my nerves, but their anxious silence is so much worse. Big Aunt looks small and deflated. Her face looks so worn, like she’s aged ten years in the course of a single day. My heart twists painfully at the sight of her looking so vulnerable.

“Hey, Big Aunt.” I reach out and pat her arm. What I really want to do is give her hand a reassuring squeeze, but our family isn’t really into hand-holding and hugs. We’re more into subtle arm and shoulder pats. “You okay?”

Immediately, she stiffens, her chin hardening as she sits up straight. “Yes, of course, Meddy. Why you ask such silly question?”

“Uh.” I should’ve known better than to show concern. Now I’m in trouble with Big Aunt.

“Of course I okay. Why I not okay?” she continues. “Enjelin know how to looking after herself, she be okay. Hah,” she snorts. “She probably nagging everyone to do the Tai Chi right now, ya kan?”

It strikes me then that despite all of the friction between her and Second Aunt, Big Aunt is scared to death for Second Aunt’s safety. My breath hitches and tears fill my eyes because I really need Second Aunt to be okay too. I force a small smile and nod at her. “Yeah, I can totally see Second Aunt convincing them to do Tai Chi.” This time, I do reach out for Big Aunt’s hand. She starts a little, but I give her hand a firm squeeze before letting go.

Meanwhile, Ma and Fourth Aunt keep their eyes firmly on their hands, though once in a while, they exchange furtive glances with each other. The back of my neck prickles. Something’s going on between the two of them. I frown as I try to work out what it could possibly be, but my mind comes up blank. I can’t think of anything the two of them could want to hide from Big Aunt. And maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

“Here we are,” Abi announces as the car pulls up at the lobby of the Ritz. In keeping with the modern skyscrapers around it, the hotel looks like it’s been built entirely out of glass, like a giant greenhouse filled with humongous towers of tropical flowers, complete with a waterfall that’s visible from out here. Despite myself, I’m impressed.

But before we can get out, Big Aunt shakes her head. “No, you need to go to back of hotel. Service entrance.”

“Oh.” Abi nods. “Yes, of course. Sorry, I didn’t even think of that.”

The car starts up again, going around to the back of the hotel, where it’s markedly less impressive. There’s an empty lot with a sign that says: “Reserved for Delivery. Do NOT loiter. Do NOT park here. Drop-offs only.”

There’s a van waiting outside the back door and a handfulof people walking in and out, carting huge boxes from the hotel into their van. The van is shiny black with the words “Ritz Catering” painted on the sides. Abi instructs the driver to park next to the black van. Big Aunt takes a deep breath, and before us, her whole demeanor changes from somber to elated, her body inflating once more. It’s quite the transformation. She climbs out of the minivan crying out, “Rahman. Tommy. Hallo!”

The caterers pause and look up, and all of their faces break into joyful grins. “Mami Friya!” they shout, hurriedly loading up the boxes before rushing over and enveloping Big Aunt in a tight group hug.

It’s wonderfully heartwarming to see such a beautiful reception for Big Aunt, who is no doubt deserving of all this affection. We’re all smiling as we climb out of the minivan. Abi mutters something about staying in the car so as not to bring any attention to himself, which is probably for the best.

We stand aside, wanting to give them space for their emotional reunion. The caterers call out into the doorway, and more caterers run out, their eyes widening, their mouths splitting into laughter as they see Big Aunt. Without hesitation, they all run up and hug her. Watching Big Aunt in her element, like a mother hen surrounded by clucking, loving chicks, is like chicken soup for my withered soul.

“I can’t believe it,” I say. “It’s been decades since Big Aunt lived and worked here, right? And they all still remember her.”

“Oh, they will have pass down the legend of the Big Aunt,” Ma says, with a confident smile. “And she still Zoom call them from time to time.”

And when Nathan retrieves the cakes that Big Aunt hasmade from the trunk of our minivan, the caterers break out into an excited cheer.

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