Page 44 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

“Ah, Mami Friya, there is truly nothing better than your mocha velvet cake,” one of them says.

“I’ve made enough for one hundred people,” Big Aunt says with false modesty, “and also for all of you, of course. Here, help yourselves. I set some aside in a Tupperware for you kids. You work so hard, you have to eat more.”

The caterers cheer and crowd around the Tupperware, all of them reaching for a piece of cake with enthusiasm. As they eat, one of them asks, “What brings you here, Mami? Not that we’re not overjoyed to see you, of course, but it’s a surprise to hear that you want to join this catering event.”

“Oh, I’ve missed the hustle and bustle of catering to an Indonesian event.” Big Aunt’s eyes sparkle. “We do plenty of events in LA, but there’s nothing quite like an Indonesian event, is there?”

They laugh and nod. “Well, it’s a treat to have you on board, that’s for sure.”

Big Aunt’s smile wavers as she prepares for what is no doubt the big ask. “Ah, and this is my family. Natasya and Mimi, my sisters. Meddy, my niece, and Nathan, my nephew-in-law.”

We all smile and try our best to look as unthreatening as we can. I’m glad Abi decided to stay in the minivan, because I have no idea how he would have come across to this wholesome group of people, especially with his full-body tattoo and his fearsome expression. The caterers wave and beam at us, and for a minute, we all exchange pleasantries with one another before it becomes obvious that they’re confused as to why we’re here.

“It’s been so nice getting to know your family, Mami,” one of them says, apparently the new head caterer now that Big Aunt is no longer working there. “We do need to get going...”

“Oh, ah—” Big Aunt clears her throat before barreling ahead. “I was wondering if it would be possible for my family to tag along? We run a catering business ourselves back in LA, and I’ve been really looking forward to showing them how things are done in Indonesia. We want to learn from all of you.”

The head caterer cackles like this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Aduh, Mami. No way! Learn from us? Why would they want to do that when they can learn from the best? Everything we know how to do here, we learned from you, Mami.”

Big Aunt laughs weakly, clearly trying to find some other way of pushing us into the catering group. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m getting old, and I’m forgetting a lot of what I had learned from my years here. I would really appreciate it if you could fit us all in.”

“We won’t get in your way, I promise,” I pipe up. “We’re really good at staying unnoticed in the background.”

The mood shifts, turning uneasy. The smiles have mostly melted away, replaced with uneasy grimaces. “Oh, I... I don’t know, it’s against our safety and hygiene protocols,” the head caterer says. “You know how it is. Even taking just you along is technically a breach of our protocol, but I was okay with it since it’s—you know—you. But taking on more people...”

“Forget it!” Fourth Aunt shouts all of a sudden. Heads whip around to stare at her, and she waves a casual hand at them. “Don’t worry about it. We knew it was a big ask. Hey, it’s just really awesome to be able to meet all of you. My big sis, she talks so much about you. You’re all like family to us.”She gives them a wide grin, eyes shining, and throws her arms around two unsuspecting caterers, who smile back hesitantly. “In fact, I’m so happy to finally see you guys that I propose a toast!”

“A toast?” someone says.

“Yes. I’ve prepared a special drink—lots of herbs and such—here we go.” She takes out a large bottle from her handbag, along with plastic cups, and hands one to each caterer. Before they can protest, she goes around and pours each one a generous serving, tittering smoothly as she goes, like a hostess at a karaoke lounge whose job is to get patrons drunk so they spend more money on food and drinks. She does this with such panache, her movements bewitchingly smooth, her voice modulated into a perfect, bubbly pitch, that no one thinks to resist her charms.

No one but me, that is. Because my senses have stood up and are ringing all of the alarm bells inside me. Oh no, please don’t let it be what I think it might be. They wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t—oh, who am I kidding? Ma and Fourth Aunt would 100 percent do what I think they’ve done.

Right then, the caterers raise their glasses and say, “To Mami Friya’s health!”

I move forward, my mouth already forming the word “No,” but I might as well be moving in slow motion. And before I can say anything, Ma’s hand shoots out, quick as a hunting octopus, and grabs my arm. She gives a small shake of the head. My mouth drops open, my face frozen in horror, as the caterers down their drinks.

They wince like people do when they’ve just taken a shot of fiery tequila. “Whoo whee,” the head caterer says. “That’s quite... something.”

“Wow, yeah, that tasted really sharp,” one of the other caterers says.

“You’ll get used to it after a while,” Fourth Aunt says.

I stand there, frozen, my mouth half-open in horror. What do I do? It’s too late to do anything. But it also feels so wrong to not say anything. My mouth is opening and closing and opening again, like a fish stranded on land. Ma is staring hard at the caterers, a myriad of expressions warring on her face—worry, guilt, hope. We stand there, not saying anything as Fourth Aunt engages the caterers in some banal conversation about the weather. How does Fourth Aunt remain so cool after—after roofie-ing these poor people?

Minutes pass, and the head caterer suddenly falters mid-sentence. She takes a step forward, blinking hard.

Big Aunt is still standing there, looking confused, when the head caterer’s eyes droop ever so slightly and her face goes slack. I hold my breath. Next to her, the other caterers are having similar reactions, as though the lights inside them have dimmed. Are they all going to pass out? Oh god. This is so wrong. I pull my arm out of Ma’s grip and rush to the nearest caterer, a young man in his twenties.

“Hey, you okay?” I say, shaking his arm.

He slowly turns to face me and blinks. His eyes blink at different times. Slowly, his mouth stretches into a joyous expression. “Whoa, dude. I feel gooooood.”

I whip round to face Ma, incandescent with rage. “I can’t believe you did this, Ma.”

Ma wrings her hands. “I just—I don’t—”

“Calm down, Meddy, we’re just showing them a good time,” Fourth Aunt says smartly. Already, she’s put one arm around a caterer and is leading him into Abi’s minivan. “Comeon, let’s bundle you up in the van. Don’t want to be late for your event, do you?”

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