Page 6 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

“Okay, first of all, Thor isn’t American,” I say, but my voice is already drowned out by everyone talking at once.

“Oh? Then what he is?”

Embarrassingly, it takes me a moment to figure it out. “Uh, I wanna say... Norwegian?”

“Aiya, all these Caucasian country all the same,” Big Aunt says with a careless flap of her hand.

“Big Aunt, you can’t say that. That’s offensive.”

“Is it?” She looks at me like she’s genuinely surprised. “Why?”

“Because...” I struggle to figure out a way of telling Big Aunt about diversity and cultural identities, and finally mumble, “Um, because they’re all different?” Wow, great job, me. I really need to get better at thinking on my feet.

Big Aunt sniffs, clearly unimpressed, and turns her attention back to Nathan, who’s completely surrounded by my family.

Why do I bother? I sigh and smile as I gaze at my poor husband. The little ones are literally climbing onto him. Already he’s got the smallest kid, my two-year-old nephew Herrisan Ford, on top of his shoulders. The other littles are hopping around him, shouting, “My turn! Me next!” and “Let me show you my room! I’ve got the biggest princess castle in there! And my Barbie has a sword! It’s named Skull Crusher!”

“Skull Crusher?” I cock an eyebrow at my cousin Jems. Jems is one of my favorite cousins because not only is he into photography, but both our names have been so unfortunately spelled that it’s impossible not to share a certain kinship with him.

Jems shrugs with a rueful smile. “She came up with the name all on her own.”

I laugh and we hug each other. “It’s so good to be here again.”

“How was your honeymoon?” my cousin-in-law Elsa says,putting an arm around my shoulders and squeezing. “Think you made a baby yet?”

I groan. “Not you guys too.”

“Just kidding!” Elsa laughs.

“But not really,” Jems says. “My mom told us that we have to talk you into starting a family like immediately.”

I roll my eyes. “Figures.”

Jems and Elsa take me to the dining room, where to the surprise of no one, there is a humongous feast large enough to feed an entire army battalion. The dining table has run out of space for food, and there are dishes placed on the side tables as well. Platters piled high with seafood noodles, topped with deep-fried quail’s eggs, braised sea cucumber and meaty shiitake mushrooms, crunchy tofu skin rolls, sliced abalone, fist-sized fried pork balls, and literally a dozen other dishes.

“Our parents might have lost their minds a little bit when you guys announced you were coming back for Chinese New Year,” Jems says.

“They really wanted to impress Nathan,” Elsa adds.

“Oh, he will definitely be impressed.”

I was right. Once Nathan joins us, along with everyone else, in the dining room, I can practically see his mouth salivating from the sight of all this food. Shouts of “Makan!” fill the room. A plate is thrust into Nathan’s hands, and immediately after that, there is a mad rush as everyone lunges forward to pile food onto his plate.

“Here, have the sea cucumber,” Ma cries, slapping a large sea cucumber on his plate.

Before Nathan can thank her, Uncle Ong heaps a thick slice of steak next to the sea cucumber. “This is wagyu, you know wagyu? We order special from Japan.”

“Wow, amazing, I love wag—”

“Eat more veggie-tibbles,” Auntie Wati orders, heaping a large ladleful of bok choy atop the steak.

Second Aunt does some fancy Tai Chi stretch and overturns a bowl of fried rice on top of the almost overflowing pile of food. Nathan’s biceps are now bulging as his plate gets heavier and heavier.

“Should I save him?” I mutter to my cousins.

“God, no,” my cousin Sarah says. “Take this chance to grab the food you actually want and eat in peace. He’s our sacrificial lamb. For once, no one is paying attention to us and nagging at us to eat this or that.”

“True.” But when Uncle Ping plops a whole fish head on top of the mountain of food, I feel too guilty and hurry over, placing myself between Nathan and the aunts and uncles. “I think he’s got enough on his plate. Literally.” I hold up my hand to stop Auntie Sheren, who’s threatening to put what looks like a whole chicken onto Nathan’s plate. “We’ll come back for the chicken when he’s done with all of this, Auntie. Thank you, though. You’re so kind, really.” I gesture at Nathan to escape to the cousins table but am too slow to stop Auntie Sheren from smacking the chicken onto my own plate.

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