The engine rumbles to life as soon as I turn the key. My breath releases in a whoosh, and I take a moment to calm down. Or try to, anyway. I’ll just drive until I find a pay phone, and then I’ll call 911. Right.
I back out slowly, wincing at the scraping sound my bumper makes along the road. Maybe I should get out and try to fix that, but no. I really can’t stomach another second at this cursed spot. My breath is still coming out in shallow, panicked gasps as I drive along the road, and the brighter the streets become, the more panicky I feel. This is nuts. What have I done? I’ve put a body in the trunk of my car. What would the cops say when I called them? What would I even say? Why the hell did I do that? What kind of sane person would do that?
Question after question assaults my mind until a scream rips out of me, and in that instant, I realize: I can’t go to the cops. They’ll think I’m guilty of murder, that I’m some crazed killer, and they’ll arrest me.
There’s a gas station in the distance. This is my chance. I can stop there, rush inside, and beg for help. But my foot presses down on the gas pedal, refusing to let up, and I zoom right past it. It’s as though my subconscious has gotten hold of my body and is forcing it to keep driving, not looking back, until I hit the entrance to the 405. I take it, heart drumming painfully at the familiar road sign, head throbbing as I join the traffic zooming down the freeway. I’m driving down the 405 with a dead body in my trunk. A hysterical laugh bubbles out. It sounds cracked, slightly mad. Tears spring into my eyes when I see the sign for the 10. So close to home. To safety. A lump catches in my throat. For the first time in years, I can’t wait to get home to Ma.
6
Junior Year, Six Years Ago
The stage is set. By stage, I mean our table is groaning under the weight of all the dim sum dishes stacked in the middle and I’ve poured the tea for everyone, and now, all I need to do is . . . tell them. Just blurt it out, Meddy. Just do it. Do the thing!
“Um, so—”
“We have a big announcement!” Ma says in Mandarin. Her eyes are all twinkly. Seriously, they’re like Christmas lights. She claps like an excited child.
“Oh?” I sit back, heart hammering from almost word vomiting about Nathan. Calm down, heart. I’ll try again after their big announcement.
Ma nods at Big Aunt, who straightens up regally. She clears her throat. “We have decided to make a family business.”
“Um. Okay . . . wow. That’s huge.” My mind swims. What business could they possibly put together?
“All of us,” Big Aunt says, and for once, Second Aunt doesn’t contradict her. They’re all smiling and looking at me.
“Okay . . .” Why are they looking at me like that? Dread creeps up my stomach. Oh my god, this is where they tell me they’ve used the house as collateral against the loans they’ve taken out for this mystery business. Or maybe the business is dealing coke. Or human trafficking. Wow, I have a low opinion of my family. “What’s the business?” I say, when I can’t take the anticipation any longer.
“Weddings!” Fourth Aunt shouts, throwing her hands up with a flourish. Big Aunt frowns at her.
“I was about to tell Meddy that,” Big Aunt scolds.
“Sorry,” Fourth Aunt says, not looking sorry in the least.
“Weddings?” I frown.
“Yes,” Big Aunt says. “I’ll do the wedding cakes. I already do big birthday cakes, very good ones.”
I nod slowly, thinking of Big Aunt’s towering birthday cakes. She does do good cakes, there’s no denying that. But the others . . .
“I’ll do makeup and hair for bride,” Second Aunt says. “I have so many loyal customers at the salon. If I quit, they’ll all follow me.”
“I’ll do the flower bouquets and flower arranging,” Ma says.
“And I’ll do the entertainment!” Fourth Aunt finishes. “I have so many fans in the Asian community, you know. No doubt they’ll all want to hire me as a wedding singer.”
Ma rolls her eyes and says in a loud whisper, “She’s just tagging along. She’s family, so we have to give her a job.”
“Says the minimum wage supermarket worker,” Fourth Aunt mutters.
The two of them glare at each other until Big Aunt snaps her fingers between them and says, “And Meddy, sweet Meddy.” All eyes turn to me. I shrink back in my chair.
“Yeah?” I squeak.
“You’ll be the photographer.”