I manage a small “Okay” and stay unmoving as he leaves my room. Dear god, what have I just done? I feel as though everything inside me has just been scooped out, leaving me an empty husk of a person. I can’t watch. I can’t stay here and look as the boy I love walks out of my life. But I do. As the tears finally fall, I make myself stare, because I know it’ll be the last time I see Nathan, and I don’t want to miss a single second of him, even when he’s leaving me.
9
Present Day
Fourth Aunt perks up a little as we walk out of the kitchen. “I’ve never seen a dead guy before,” she says.
“You are too young,” Big Aunt says. “Wait until you are fifty, then all your friend parents here die there die, then you see dead people all the time.”
“Well, obviously I’ve been to funerals before. I’ve seen bodies in coffins. This is different. I mean I’ve never seen a dead guy who isn’t, you know, at a funeral.”
A couple of steps away from the garage, Second Aunt suddenly gasps and says, “Wait! Cannot go out there!”
We all jump, and in the ensuing silence, I swear I can hear all of our hearts beating a mad rhythm.
“What is it?” Ma says.
Second Aunt’s face is stricken. “We cannot see the body! Cannot go near it!”
“Why not?” Fourth Aunt demands, obviously irritated. She glances with anticipation at the garage.
“Tomorrow is big wedding weekend. So unlucky if we are near dead body now, and then we bring the bad luck to the wedding, how can? We will curse bride and groom and their whole family!”
Fourth Aunt groans. “Not this superstitious BS again.”
I don’t usually agree with Fourth Aunt, but I very nearly groan out loud with her, because as soon as Second Aunt says it, both Ma and Big Aunt actually pause to consider what she’s saying. My pulse goes so fast I feel as though I might faint. I can’t believe I might end up going to prison because of a superstition.
“But isn’t the belief that you shouldn’t go to a wedding after you’ve been to a funeral?” I point out.
My aunts’ eyebrows rise.
“I mean, this isn’t a funeral, technically. We’re not doing any burial rites or anything.”
Eyes shining, Ma snaps her fingers and points at me. “Meddy is correct. We just don’t bury body now. We—maybe we put him in freezer? Then on Monday, after wedding, we can bury body.”
Fourth Aunt blanches. “Uh, hang on, I didn’t mean—”
Big Aunt nods. “Okay, it sound good.”
Second Aunt chews her lip, hesitating, and Big Aunt glares at her. “And anyway,” Big Aunt says, “since hotel owner die, wedding probably cancel tomorrow, when he not show up. So we be back early, then we bury body.”
With that, they resume walking toward the garage, Fourth Aunt leading the charge, Second Aunt being pushed along by Ma, me trailing at the back.
“Ah, you leave light on,” Big Aunt says, walking through the back door into the garage.
“Yes, dead body cannot be in the dark,” Ma says.
Big Aunt nods. “Yes, good thinking.”
“More superstitious BS,” Fourth Aunt mutters.
“Just wait until you see what Meddy do to the body. She was very respectful,” Ma says.
I can’t believe she’s taking this moment to boast about me being respectful. This is peak Asian parenting.
We all crowd around the trunk of the car. My breath catches, my chest painfully tight, not enough room for my lungs to expand and take in air. I think I might faint. As though sensing my near-panic, Ma pats my arm before opening the trunk.
And there he is, just as I left him, lying in there with his long legs bent, knees at his waist, the hoodie covering his face. There is a mix of noises from my aunts—Big Aunt is tch-tching and shaking her head, muttering, “This what happen when parents don’t raise the son well,” Fourth Aunt is staring openmouthed with what I can only describe as horrified glee, and Second Aunt is . . .
“What are you doing, Second Aunt?”
She hardly glances at me as she goes into a deep lunge. “Snake Creeps Through the Grass,” she mutters.
“What?”
“She doing Tai Chi,” Ma says. “Doctor tell her do it for high blood pressure.”
“Uh. Okay.” I suppose we all have our ways of dealing with stress.
Fourth Aunt reaches toward the hoodie, and Ma smacks her hand.
“Ow! What?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ma demands.