Chapter 2

2

The last thing I want to do after flying for eighteen hours is to meet everyone in my greasy-faced, matted-hair state (Nathan, of course, somehow manages to remain fresh-faced and smelling of clean laundry), but that’s exactly what greets us at the Jakarta airport. There’s Ma, hopping up and down and waving madly at us even though we’ve both waved back to indicate that yes, we saw her. And behind her are not only Big Aunt, Second Aunt, and Fourth Aunt, but about half a dozen of my other aunts and uncles.

“We could turn around right now and fly back to Paris,” I mutter as Nathan pushes our trolley, which is piled impossibly high with souvenir-stuffed bags, toward the gaggle of waving, grinning aunties and uncles.

“You’ll be fine. Look how excited they are to see you.”

“You mean how excited they are to see you?”

Nathan has just enough time to say, “Why would they be excited to see me?” before we walk through the glass doors and are immediately swarmed by my family.

Instinct takes over and I raise my arms to shield my face as they stampede toward me, but instead of the fierce, overwhelming hug I expected, they rush past me. “Wha—” I turn around. And stare.

I was right. They truly do not give a shit about seeing me. It’s all about Nathan, the golden boy; the chiseled, Captain America–jawlined hero.

“My son!” Ma cries happily, throwing her arms around him.

Fourth Aunt pinches his cheek, nearly taking out an eye with her viciously manicured fingernails. Meanwhile, Second Aunt has picked up one of his arms and is holding it up for the other aunties and uncles to admire.

“Look, so muscular, ya? I tell you, such a strong lad.”

The other aunties and uncles ooh and aah. “Wah, yes, so healthy. Will give you good, strong grandchildren.”

Second Aunt simpers as though they’ve complimented her arm and not Nathan’s. “Is because I teach him Tai Chi.”

Big Aunt snorts and rolls her eyes. “I think Nathan already working out before you rope him into doing Tai Chi with you.”

“Er—” Nathan’s eyes ping-pong back and forth between Big Aunt and Second Aunt before going to me with a silent plea for help. I smirk at him, enjoying the fact that:

For the first time, I’m not the center of attention.

He was so confident and smug about everything being fine in Jakarta, so he can very well deal with them himself.

Is that mean? I should probably come to his aid or something, shouldn’t I? I shouldn’t leave my newlywed husband (!) at the mercy of my family.

With a sigh, I walk up to them and wave weakly. “Hi, everyone.”

As though she’s just remembered the existence of her only daughter, Ma whips around. “Ah, Meddy, there you are.”

“I’ve been here the whole time. You literally walked right past me.”

“Aduh, you look so tired.” Ma places her hands on my cheeks and squeezes. “So pale. Why so pale? You not feeling well? You too skinny! You need to eat more. Aiya, must be the food in France no good, that’s why you get so skinny, you eat more, okay?”

“But not too much,” Second Aunt says, “otherwise later you get high cholesterol.”

“Yes, don’t eat too much,” Ma agrees. “But do eat more, you see, otherwise your face is so peyot.” She sucks in her cheeks to illustrate just how peyot—sunken—my cheeks look. “Like old hag,” she adds, just to drive her point home.

“Mm.” Second Aunt nods. “But remember, not eat too much, otherwise blood pressure spike, then you will die.”

“Uh. Right.” I take an inhale and smile at them. “I’ll eat more, but not too much more, okay.”

“She is pale, right?” Ma says to the others, still not mollified by my answer. They all nod in agreement.

“Maybe she enter wind,” one of the uncles suggests.

“Enter wind?” Nathan says.

I gently pull Ma’s hands off my face. “It’s an Indonesian phrase—masuk angin. It means catch a cold. And no, I don’t have a cold. I’m just tired because, you know, eighteen-hour flight and all that. Anyway—” I’m desperate to change the subject. “Ma, didn’t you guys arrive only this morning? How are you so . . .” I gesture around for a bit, looking for the right word. “Perky?”

“Aduh, of course is because of my TCM,” Ma announces with pride.

My stomach drops. Oh god, the woman can’t possibly be foolhardy enough to bring marijuana into Indonesia, a country with the harshest penalties for drug abuse.

“Don’t worry, I made sure it’s legit TCM,” Fourth Aunt says with a roll of her eyes.

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Fourth Aunt.”

“I substituted the THC with Ambien. We all slept through the entire flight.”

“What? Ambien? Isn’t that prescription only?” My mind spins, trying to keep up with my mom and aunts and their drug use.

“Yeah, we all got a prescription for it,” Fourth Aunt says so simply, like she’s talking about the weather.

“Big Aunt talk in her sleep the whole time,” Second Aunt snickers. “Keep on shouting orders at the flight attendants in her sleep.”

Big Aunt harrumphs. “I think you making that up.”

“I’ll show you video later,” Second Aunt says to me. I give her a weak smile.

“Enough of that. Come, Nathan, you have to meet the rest of the family!” Ma grabs my arm and Nathan’s and pulls us toward the group of aunties and uncles, who are all smiling and staring openly at us. “This is Auntie Yuli, she is our cousin from Nainai’s side, and this one her brother, you call him Uncle Ping, okay, and this one Uncle Mochtar, he is our second cousin from . . .”

I glance at Nathan as Ma presents each aunt and uncle to him. I still remember the first time that Ma took me back to Jakarta, when I was a kid, and how overwhelming it was. It took me two more visits to remember every aunt’s, uncle’s, and cousin’s name. Poor Nathan. He must be so overwhelmed.

“Auntie Yuli, Uncle Ping, Uncle Mochtar, Auntie Wati, Auntie Sheren, and Uncle Ong,” Nathan says, nodding at each one with a warm, open smile.

What the hell? Did he seriously memorize all of their names just like that?

The crowd of aunties and uncles erupts into huge grins. The uncles reach out and slap Nathan fondly on the back, and the aunties grab his arms, yammering the whole time about how handsome and well-mannered he is. Together, the throng leads him toward the exit, leaving me behind. Nathan turns his head and gives me a wide-eyed, helpless look, but beneath it is warm amusement. He’s totally enjoying this, the ham. With a laugh, I jog after them, catching up with Ma and linking my arm through hers. Maybe Nathan’s right. Maybe we’ll actually have fun in Jakarta.

The family home is a huge, ostentatious mansion in Pantai Indah Kapuk, north Jakarta. Like many of the other towering mansions in PIK, when the aunties and uncles renovated the house five years ago, they chose to go baroque, the most over-the-top architecture that has ever been architectured. I’m talking about a literal giant crown built atop the roof of the house, like that’s going to fool anyone into thinking we’re actual royalty.

“Wow,” Nathan breathes as we get out of the car and tilt our heads back, and back, and back to take in the behemoth of a house in front of us.

I grimace. “I know. But this house has like, four different families living in it.”

It’s the Chinese-Indonesian way; traditionally, most children live with their parents, even after they get married, so you’d often get three whole generations living in a single house. Most Chinese-Indonesian families are huge, comprising more than six children, so usually some of the children would move out after they got married, but more often than not, at least one or two of them would remain in the family home. Our family home is no different; though Ma and the aunties long ago emigrated to the States, Auntie Sheren and Auntie Wati, their cousins from their mother’s side, have remained in the family house with their respective families.

“Wow, four different families?” Nathan raises his eyebrows.

“There’s Auntie Sheren and her husband, Uncle Ping and his wife, and then there’s Auntie Sheren’s son and his wife, and Uncle Ping’s daughter and her husband, and all their kids. So . . . I think there are fourteen people living here? Plus their live-in helpers.” I hate having to explain this stuff to non-Indonesians, who always seem to be horrified by the concept. I can’t help but feel judged whenever I tell them that no, it’s not actually part of our culture to move out of our parents’ house, because nine out of ten times, people would react with shock/horror and make comments about how infantilizing our culture is.

But Nathan nods slowly before grinning. “Sounds like a blast. Can you imagine how much fun the kids must have? I was always so lonely growing up as an only child. I would’ve killed to live in one single house with my cousins.”

My chest loosens. I hadn’t even noticed it tightening.

“Ayo, masuk!” Uncle Ping gestures jovially, ushering us through the massive double doors.

Nathan and I go inside and are almost blinded by the crystal chandelier cascading from the foyer ceiling. It must be about a thousand watts of light and is a total showstopper. Grecian statues flank the foyer, staring down at us impassively while wrestling dolphins. Next to them are Ming vases as tall as Nathan. My insides squirm at how ostentatious everything in here must look to Nathan. I mean, it’s as though my family raided the British Museum.

“Masuk, masuk!” Auntie Wati pushes us along, deeper into the house, and suddenly, there are shouts and stampeding feet and we’re attacked. Well, by hugs.

The kids jump around us like little pups, and I laugh and hug them all.

“Cici Meddy!” they shout, throwing their little arms around my shoulders and tugging affectionately at my hair and telling me how pretty I look (aww) and how bad my breath smells after my long flight. Then they look at Nathan and gasp. “Is he a movie star?” my five-year-old niece, Jeassyka, wonders aloud, her eyes wide.

“No,” I laugh.

“But he can be,” Ma adds loyally, patting Nathan’s arm and beaming up at him with fondness. “He is as handsome as Thor, ya?”

The kids nod, their eyes never leaving Nathan’s face, which has turned an interesting shade of red.

“But better,” Big Aunt sniffs. “Because he is Chinese. Chinese Thor better than American Thor.”

“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.

“You better eat that, Meddy!” She wags a finger in my face. “You too skinny. How you going to make a nice, fat baby if you so skinny?”

Her words act as a signal for the other aunties and uncles to swarm around me and pile food onto my plate, all of them telling me I need to eat more so I can give my poor, long-suffering mother the chubby grandbaby she deserves. By the time they’re done, I swear my plate weighs more than all of my camera equipment combined. I stagger with it to the cousins table and slide into a seat next to Nathan.

“Thank you for saving me,” he murmurs, squeezing my hand.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Sarah sighs. “That was very selfless of you, Meddy.”

“Yeah, we told her to leave you to the wolves,” Jems laughs.

Next to our table, the “grown-up” table is in full party mode, all of the aunts and uncles cackling as they exchange crazy stories. Even Big Aunt is laughing uproariously at something Uncle Ong is saying. On the other side, the kids squeal and giggle at their little table. I can’t help smiling as I watch everyone, loving the noise and warmth that fills the entire house. It’s no wonder that Ma and the aunties make sure to come back every year. They seem younger here somehow, more vibrant and filled with life.

“I love this,” Nathan says, echoing my thoughts. “This is so lively. I can see how everyone living together under one roof really works for your families.”

Elsa laughs. “Oh, trust me, we get into our share of arguments. But yeah, on the whole, it’s really great, and the kids are never bored or lonely.”

“I’ve always wanted to be part of a big family.” Nathan’s dimples wink at me, and I smile back.

“Well, you’ll meet the big family tomorrow morning, on Chinese New Year.”

“The ‘big’ family?” Nathan says.

“Yeah, this isn’t the whole family, it’s only a small portion of it. Everyone else will come here in the morning to bai nian.” Bai nian, done during Chinese New Year, consists of going round to relatives’ homes or congregating in the house of the oldest relative to wish everyone a happy new year.

Nathan’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Whoa, this is only a small portion of the family?”

“Yep,” Sarah says through a mouthful of noodles. “There are about eighty of us in total.”

“What?”Nathan sputters.

Again, my stomach knots. Maybe it’s too much, too overwhelming. I shouldn’t have brought him here for Chinese New Year, the biggest holiday for our family. I should’ve brought him here on a normal day and had him meet everyone in a slow, manageable trickle.

But Nathan only beams wide, eyes alight, and says, “That’s amazing. I can’t wait to meet everyone.”

Honestly, I don’t deserve this man. I lean over and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.

An insistent tinkling of metal against glass catches our attention, and we look over to the next table to see Fourth Aunt tapping her fork against her glass with flourish. Next to her, Ma is rolling her eyes, like, Of course she’s calling all of the attention to herself.

When Fourth Aunt is satisfied that all eyes are on her, she sets down her fork and places her hand on her hip. “I’d just like to say thank you to everyone for welcoming us home, and I am so excited about the Chinese New Year celebration tomorrow.”

“Hear, hear!” Jems calls out.

Ma rolls her eyes so hard I wonder if she’ll give herself a migraine.

Fourth Aunt’s fire-engine-red lips stretch into a playful smirk. “Aaand, I’ve prepared a very special surprise for tomorrow.”

Uh-oh. My stomach drops. I hate surprises. People often say they hate surprises, but see, the last time my mother and aunts surprised me, I killed that surprise, so when I say I hate surprises, I really mean it.

As though reading my mind, Fourth Aunt frowns and flaps her hand at me. “Meddy, I see that look of horror on your face. Don’t worry, it’s not a surprise for you, okay?”

“Oh.” Okay then. I sag with relief. Nathan squeezes my hand again, and I mouth “phew” at him.

“Who’s the surprise for?” someone calls out.

Fourth Aunt grins slyly before miming zipping her mouth shut. Everyone groans good-naturedly. I’m surprised Ma’s eyes are still working after all the rolling they’ve done. Dinner lasts for hours. By the time we finish up with dessert, the kids are all asleep, except for little Jeassyka, who’s still yammering on to Nathan about how she’s planning on using her red packet money to buy a real lightsaber for her Barbie. Somehow, against all odds, it seems that everything is going well, and I find myself looking forward to finding out what Fourth Aunt’s surprise is tomorrow.