Chapter 18

18

The noise outside of Kristofer’s bedroom has reached a fever pitch. Shouts and thumps can be heard vaguely even from all the way up here. My pulse leaps into a gallop and I race down the stairs. The noise becomes even louder as I approach the ground floor, and my stomach plummets when I finally catch sight of the front door. The crowd of guests are crammed in and around the doorway. I run up to them and try to slip through the crush of bodies, but no one is budging. They’re all riveted on what’s going on outside, many of them hooting and cheering.

“Get them!”

“Show that gangster who’s boss!”

Oh god. Of course, Kristofer’s guests are thugs, just like him.

“Excuse me,” I shout, “I need to go through—” Nobody pays me any attention.

I try to pry in between two people, and the one on my left, a woman in a ruby-red gown, actually snarls at me. Good grief.

And the noises coming from outside. More thumps, followed by breaking glass, people shouting and chanting, and for the love of god, what is happening? I would scream, except that nobody would hear me above the din. Are Nathan, Ma, Second Aunt, and Fourth Aunt okay? And Big Aunt? Big Aunt!

I turn away from the crowd and sprint toward the kitchen. Surely, she’s not still in there. Surely, she would’ve heard all the noise and chaos by now and gone out to see what was—

Nope. Big Aunt is indeed still in the kitchen, a KitchenAid mixer on full blast, pots and pans bubbling and sizzling on the stoves, and she is moving like a demon through the mess. She’s deep in her own world, completely oblivious to the outside world.

“Big Aunt,” I call out. She doesn’t hear me. “Big Aunt!” Still nothing. “Big Aunt!” This time, I stride to the giant KitchenAid mixer and yank the plug out of the electric socket. It dies with a sad whir.

“Wha?” Big Aunt whirls around, her mouth halfway open. When she sees me, she goes, “Aduh, Meddy, quick, fix the mixer. Otherwise later my meringue not set. Ayo, cepat.”

“No, listen, Big Aunt, stop. Stop!”

She puts down the whisk she’s using to whip something on the stovetop and gapes at me. My tone had been so sharp it cut like a knife, slicing through the layers of propriety, going straight to the bone.

“What happen?” Her voice is quiet, somber. She’s prepared for the worst possible news.

“They’re outside, and it sounds like they’re fighting.”

“Second Aunt?” Her face is so lined with worry it resembles a walnut.

“She’s fine. Well, she was fine. Kristofer has them all. Nathan, Ma, Second Aunt, and Fourth Aunt, and I saw him take them outside. Abi’s arrived with all these men and it sounds like—god, I don’t even know. Like some sort of fight is going on, and our family’s out there on the front lines and I can’t get through the crowd.”

Big Aunt groans. “Aduh, Meddy, how many time your ma and we all teach you how to get through crowd at dim sum restaurant? You have to be firm. ‘I have reservation. My family already waiting inside!’ and then just go in.” Her hand slices down firmly, like a cleaver. “Cut through the crowd, like a shark.”

“Okay, this is slightly different from a dim sum crowd.” But is it, really? The crowds at the San Gabriel Valley dim sum places have been known to get very territorial, especially when they sense that the lunch carts are running out of the good stuff.

Big Aunt tuts and wipes her hands down on a kitchen towel briskly. “Come, follow me. I show you how to do.” At the last minute, she grabs a large wooden spoon from the counter and marches out of the kitchen, with me hot on her heels.

“These people are probably really dangerous, Big Aunt.” I don’t know why I feel the need to remind her of this. It’s clear they’re dangerous; they kidnapped Second Aunt, for crying out loud. But still, I feel like I need to tell Big Aunt not to scold them like naughty kids.

“Hah!” Big Aunt slaps her palm with the wooden spoon. “If only I have feather duster, then I really show these boys their place.”

Ah, the feather duster. It’s like every Chinese parent’s go-to weapon. When I was little, Ma told me that when Chinese people have babies, the hospitals bestow upon them a feather duster and tell them to use it liberally. Ma never used one on me, but I’ve seen my aunties use it on their sons, chasing them around the house with it as my cousins grab their butts with both hands and dart around, squealing.

I’m about to beg Big Aunt not to spank Kristofer or his men when we get to the crowd. Somehow, it seems even bigger than before, swelling and replicating in numbers. The noise is deafening, everyone cheering or booing or generally shouting. My steps falter, but Big Aunt charges ahead without pause. The wooden spoon moves in a blur, rapping someone’s shoulder one second, whacking into another’s elbow the next.

“Awas!” she shouts, as she thwacks her way into the crowd with deadly precision. “Minggir!” It shouldn’t work as well as it does. The wooden spoon is merciless, sure, but a crowd this enthusiastic and tightly packed shouldn’t move apart so easily under Big Aunt’s assault, but somehow, as though everyone’s survival instincts kick in, sensing a greater danger behind them, the crowd splits apart.

I scurry after Big Aunt, sticking as close to her as possible, terrified that the warm bodies around me will close in, separating me from Big Aunt and, worse, trapping me in the midst of this half-rabid group. As we scythe our way deeper into the crowd, the noise becomes so loud that I feel it in my veins, pounding like war drums. The heat becomes unbearable, the energy of over a hundred people crushing up against one another hot on my skin. I hate this, god, I hate every moment of this, but I have to keep going, keep my eyes locked on Big Aunt’s back. One foot after the other. One step, then another, and another.

And somehow, we do it. We break out of the yelling throng in a sudden burst of cool air. I suck in a desperate breath. It’s all I have time for before my brain digests the scene in front of me. The fight.

No, the fights. Six, seven, eight men are struggling with each other on the ground, throwing savage punches and kicks, grunting, roaring like beasts. Abi and Kristofer stand on either side of the ring, shouting at the men. And a few paces away stand my family members, each of them with a guard holding on to their elbows, their faces tight with horror. Well, except for Fourth Aunt, who’s cheering along with the crowd.

“Hit him in the neck!” she cries. “The neck, I said. Oh for—are you even trying?”

I follow her gaze to the man she’s cheering on and oh god. All of my insides plummet. My heart forgets to beat, my lungs forget to take in air. Because the man that Fourth Aunt is cheering on is none other than Nathan.

Nathan, bloodied and shirtless, raising his fists up to protect his face, swaying a little on his feet. A man charges at him and I gasp just as Nathan dodges. He grabs the back of the man’s shirt and shoves, using the man’s momentum to fling him off. The man tumbles onto the dirt, but another man pounces on Nathan with an animal cry. Both of them fall onto the dirt, scrambling, and this is a nightmare. It can’t possibly be real.

“Stop it.” My voice comes out thin, swallowed immediately by the jeers around me. “Stop it!” I look around wildly. That’s my husband. The person who always sees the best in others, the one who’s done nothing but be supportive about spending our honeymoon visiting my ancestral homeland. And now this poor, sweet guy is rolling around in the dirt, literally getting beaten up by thugs.

Something overcomes me. Rage. Flowing hot as lava, filling up my entire being. Everything around me ceases to exist. The noise recedes to a background hum. I’ve had enough of this fucking thing. I march over to Kristofer. Neither he nor his guards pay any attention to me, a puny, weak female. I don’t stop to think.

I’m so close to Kristofer I can practically smell him, I can see the little hairs on the side of his ears, and without any hesitation, I reach out and grab him by the collar of his shirt. Summoning all of my strength, I yank Kristofer down so we’re face-to-face. I only have a few seconds before his guards are on me. The few words I’m about to say will be the most important words of my life. If I stop to consider what to say, I will lose the moment. So I pounce on the only things I know. The truth.

“You’re in love with Julia Child.” The words rush out of me like a raging river, unstoppable. “She’s in love with you too. All these years. Your wife knew it. Abi never had a relationship with Julia Child. He was always in love with my aunt, Enjelin.”

Hands grab my shoulders. I’m wrenched away from Kristofer, jerked back like a rag doll. I let go. Struggling might endanger this life growing inside of me, and I would never do anything to risk that. But I keep my eyes on him. I watch it all sink in; his expression going from anger to confusion to surprise and then something almost unreadable. An expression that comes from emotions layered one right on top of the other. Grief, joy, hope, embarrassment, all of them intermingling, fighting for control of his features.

“Wait.” He holds up his palm. The rough hands gripping my shoulders stop pulling, though they remain there, firm. Kristofer takes a step closer to me. “What do you—how do you know?”

My natural instinct is to answer him. That’s just the sort of person I am. But I wrestle my stupid instincts to the ground. Instead, I make myself raise my chin with defiance. “I’m not telling you anything until you tell your henchmen to get away from my husband.”

Kristofer’s eye twitches a little, but then he turns to the men in the center, purses his lips, and blows a short, shrill whistle. As though they’re robots whose switches were turned off, four of the men immediately stop fighting. They drop their hands to their sides and leap back onto their feet. Nathan and the other men, presumably Abi’s henchmen, slowly straighten up, looking confused. The crowd falls silent.

Every pair of eyes is now directed at us, the weight of everyone’s attention almost physical, like ants crawling on my face. I resist the urge to hide.

Kristofer turns his full attention to me, and it’s even more unsettling than having all these people staring at me. He has the kind of intensity that tears away at your confidence, because it’s obvious when he looks at you, he’s fully listening, absorbing not just everything you say but all of the minute details of your movements, reading your body language like a book. It’s easy to see, in this moment, how this man has ascended to the top and become one of the largest business tycoons in the country. I falter. I don’t know how to convince this man, this person who’s probably heard it all.

But then I catch a glimpse of Nathan, Ma, and my aunties. And they’re all looking at me with trust. Even Big Aunt. I would’ve thought that their main reaction would be: Oh crap, who put Meddy in charge? But no, they’re all looking at me with hope shining in their eyes, filled with utter confidence that I’m about to solve everything. And knowing that bolsters that little kernel of defiance inside me. Kristofer’s cynicism has nothing against me, because I’m about to tell him the most valuable thing anyone has ever given him. I’m about to tell him the truth.

“I read your wife’s letter.” I ignore the flare of anger in his eyes and plow on. “She said to seek ‘her’ out. The woman you’ve been in love with ever since you were teenagers.”

Kristofer sucks in a painful breath. “You don’t know what you’re—”

I shake my head, my frustration spilling out. “I talked to Julia Child. She said things—they didn’t make sense at the time, I thought that you were just business rivals, but now I get it. The way she talked about you, she was bitter.”

“Hah!” Kristofer snorts. “That’s because we’re competitors.”

“No, it’s much more than that. There was a lot of emotion in it, a lot of history. Look, I—my family, we run our own business too. I know what it’s like to come across a competitor. This was much more than that. This was personal.” I take a deep breath, ignoring the look of cynicism on Kristofer’s face, and raise my voice, louder and louder, so every word rings clear and true. “She loved you. And you loved her.”

There’s a collective gasp from the people around us. Kristofer blanches. “That’s not true—”

“Your wife knew. Marjie, she said as much to you. You were a good husband, but she knew there was someone you left behind. The one that got away.” My voice breaks as my gaze strays to Nathan. Despite everything, a small, sad smile touches his mouth. It’s a smile that speaks of years of loss, when we were both apart from each other. A smile that speaks of confidence. He completely trusts that I will make things right again.

I force myself to look at Kristofer again. “I know what it’s like to have that person, the one who got away, because that’s my husband. And I was lucky, so lucky, to have been given a second chance, but you and Julia Child never had that, did you? You two broke up and you got married and you were a wonderful husband and father and you moved on, but there’s always been a piece of you that was left behind with her.”

Kristofer’s hands clench and unclench. He glares at me as though I’m the only person who exists in this whole world, everyone else forgotten. His upper lip curls up. “We didn’t break up. I gave her all of me, and she took my heart and she cheated on me with that scumbag.” He shoots a poisonous glance back at Abi.

“No, you were mistaken.” This is it. The root of everything. “She didn’t. There was nothing going on between her and Abi, and I know this because Abi was, and still is, in love with my aunt.”

Kristofer’s mouth snaps shut. He opens it, drawing a breath, but doesn’t say anything.

“It’s true.”

I turn to see Abi stepping forward. He spits at the ground and glares at Kristofer. “There was never anything between me and Julia Child. We were close, yes, but all we did when we spent time together was talk about you and Enjelin.”

“You’re lying,” Kristofer snaps. “I saw the two of you walking, holding hands.”

“Apa? Holding hands?” Second Aunt demands in a pterodactyl screech. She wrenches her arms free from the guards holding her back and takes a murderous step toward Abi before the guards catch her again.

“No, Enjelin, I swear to you, I never—” Abi pauses, his mouth dropping open as realization apparently sinks in. “You and Julia Child—you had the same haircut. All the girls did, at the time. It was this really round bob, kind of like a helmet?” He sees the expression on Second Aunt’s face and quickly adds, “A beautiful helmet. And you’re about the same size—well, you’re much curvier, of course—but from behind, it would be a challenge telling you apart. I mean, of course I would’ve been able to tell you apart from every other girl, but Kristofer must have seen you and me together and thought it was me and Julia Child.”

Second Aunt narrows her eyes and sniffs.

Ma frowns at Kristofer. “You can’t even tell your own girlfriend apart from Enjelin?”

The expression on Kristofer’s face is basically the teeth-gritted, cringe emoji. “I—it was from behind, and—you’re lying,” he hisses at Abi. “It was Julia, I know it was, because she had this green silk scarf on.”

“Oh, ah.” Abi grins sheepishly. “That might have been my fault. I might have borrowed the scarf from Julia Child to give to my beautiful Enjelin.”

“Hanh!” Big Aunt booms. “You. I knew you were a thug. You gave my sister a stolen scarf?”

Abi’s head whips to face Big Aunt, his eyes wide with fear. “Um. I didn’t have any money at the time. We were all just trying to survive, and I wanted to give her something nice.”

“I mean, it’s kind of romantic, if you think about it,” Fourth Aunt mutters.

“Romantic?” Big Aunt hisses. “This is very bad behavior. I was right about you all along.”

“You bastard,” Kristofer says, his face taken over by cold, deadly anger. He takes a step toward Abi, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from running away, because every inch of Kristofer is oozing quiet rage. I can easily picture him killing Abi with his bare hands right now. “You—”

The rest of his words are drowned out by a terrific noise from the sky, an endless staccato of rapid gusts of wind. We all look up, and my mouth drops open. A helicopter is flying toward us, the noise swelling exponentially as it nears, the wind whipping our hair up. It’s hard to breathe, the air slamming into my face, and I raise a hand to shield my eyes from the glare as the helicopter lands in the middle of Kristofer’s expansive front lawn. I’ve never seen a helicopter in real life before, and it’s jarring to be so close to one now, to see just how huge it really is, how impossibly large the wingspan is, and above all, how deafening it is, a continuous roar so loud that I can’t hear my own thoughts. The door opens, and all thought leaves my mind, because it’s her. Julia Child, wearing an expression as murderous as Kristofer’s.