Page 28 of Next Time Will Be Our Turn
Mama came out of the kitchen. Her eyebrows rose as Ellery stepped inside, and I looked at my best friend and saw her the way Mama must be seeing her—disconcertingly tall, with broad shoulders, hair like spun gold, and eyes the color of the ocean. And that disarming smile, sweet and sincere, with a hint of mischief.
“Hi, uh, Auntie Chen.” Ellery presented the tulips to Mama.
“For me?” Mama said with obvious surprise. Her face glowedwith pleasure as she smelled the flowers. “Thank you.” She gestured for us to come inside before going into the kitchen, still smelling the flowers.
“Wow, you did well,” I whispered to Ellery. I never would’ve thought of giving my mom flowers. Chinese-Indonesian culture wasn’t big into giving flowers, except to mark the bookends of life—birth and death.
Inside the living room, Ellery and I sat on the sofa in awkward silence for a moment. The apartment was small, sound traveling to every corner easily, and I was painfully aware that Mama was probably listening to every word we said. Not that Ellery and I ever said anything off to each other, but I was feeling so guilty for some inexplicable reason.
Ellery looked around. “This is cool, a lot bigger than mine.”
“Yeah.” I could think of nothing else to say.
“Never thought I’d see the day when my Tulip is tongue-tied.”
My Tulip.I wished my heart hadn’t jumped at that.
Ellery got up and picked up a framed photo next to the TV. “Aww, you were so cute.” It was a photo of Papa, Mama, Iris, and me, taken about thirteen years ago. Mama, Iris, and I were in Dutch outfits, down to the wooden clogs. Iris was about seven, I was four, and I was smiling into the camera in that scared way that kids did. Iris, of course, was standing there looking cross.
“Why were you guys dressed in Dutch clothes though?”
“Indonesia used to be colonized by the Dutch. And for whatever reason, we like to commemorate it? It’s weird.” I plucked the photograph from her hand, feeling self-conscious, andplaced it back down on the TV cabinet. To this day, I still can’t explain why we like to take portraits wearing Dutch outfits.
“Oh yeah, I read about Indonesia being colonized by the Dutch.”
“You did? When?”
Ellery shrugged, turning away to look around the living room. “I dunno, I looked it up at some point.”
“You looked up Indonesia?” I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of it.
“Yeah.”
I would’ve pressed her on that, but Mama came out of the kitchen then, carrying a platter of snacks. “I brought all sorts of kerupuk from Indonesia,” she said. “Freshly fried.”
There were prawn crackers, fried rice cakes, and my favorite, kerupuk putih—a circular cracker made of noodle-shaped tapioca dough.
“Ooh, awesome! Thanks, Auntie Chen.”
Mama smiled and went back into the kitchen. Ellery and I dived in. She’d take a bite, go, “Mmm!” and ask me what it was made of. “This is some good shit, Tulip.” She said it with so much enthusiasm that I wanted to hug her and tell her what a giant dork she was.
“Ask Iris if she wants any,” Mama called out.
My mouth soured. Taking a deep breath, I went to Iris’s room and knocked on her door.
“What?” she snapped.
“Do you want some kerupuk?”
Silence. Then, “No.”
Phew. But also, god, that was so awkward and Ellery must’veheard and, god, what must she think of me and Iris? She’d know how dysfunctional we were. She’d know how—
But when I got back to the living room, Ellery was standing there with a huge grin on her face and a pair of Sock’em Boppers on her hands. They were these huge air-filled boxing gloves. Iris’s friends had brought them over one day and left them there. “Look what I found!” Ellery tossed a pair over at me.
“Really?” It was such a dumb toy. But I put them on anyway, then stood there feeling ridiculous.
“Arms up!” Ellery made adingnoise and came at me. She punched me in the chest. Or she tried to. I blocked her without realizing it.
