“Such silly idea,” Ma scoffs. “So messy, and the garbage bags always leak. You will make big mess in my garage.”
“That’s because you always buy the cheap ones,” Fourth Aunt shoots back. “I told you to buy Glad brand. Haven’t you seen their ads? Glad bags will hold his cut-up body just fine, no leaks!”
I look at the ceiling. Pretty sure that when Glad was planning their marketing campaign, they didn’t think their target market would be a bunch of middle-aged Chinese women arguing about how to best dispose of a body. “What about a blanket?” I say. “We just need something to cover him while we move him to Big Aunt’s car. All it has to do is make him look less . . . like a dead body.”
“Good idea,” Big Aunt says.
Ma flushes with pride. The woman really needs to get her priorities straight. I run back inside the house, grab a couple of old blankets from our storeroom, and rush back into the garage, where they’ve moved on from the trash bag issue to arguing over some other thing. “Here it is!” I say loudly.
I pass one blanket to Big Aunt and shake out the other. We approach the body, blankets raised, and pause.
Fourth Aunt growls, “Come on, do it!”
Teeth gritted, I put my blanket over the top half of his body.
“Tuck the sides under him,” Fourth Aunt says. “Wrap him up like a burrito.”
“Oh god,” I whimper, but I do as she says, tucking the blanket underneath his body, cringing at how warm it feels. “He’s still warm,” I hiss, face scrunched in revulsion. I hesitate. “Should we—uh. I think we should check his pulse.”
“No, no, that very bad luck, touching corpse,” Ma says, shaking her head firmly.
I stare at her. “What are you talking about? I literally just touched it. Can I also point out you guys were talking about cutting him up moments ago? Would that not involve touching him?”
“Is different,” Ma says. Everyone else save for Fourth Aunt nods.
“How is it different?” I cry.
“Touching dead body to cut it up, get rid of it, is okay. But touching dead body to try and find life inside, ohhh, very bad luck.”
“WHAT?” I swear my head has exploded. “How is cutting up a dead body better than just a small touch to make sure it’s actually dead?”
“Aiya, if you don’t understand, no use trying to explain,” Second Aunt says.
“When someone doesn’t understand, that’s exactly the time you should explain.” I shake my head. Why am I wasting precious time arguing with them? Without giving myself time to chicken out, I grab Jake’s wrist, cringing, and feel for a pulse. Ugh, god, this is so gross. I feel about, pressing here and there, but my hand is trembling too hard and my palm is all sweaty and—
“Sudah!” Ma snaps, yanking my hand back. While still holding on to me, she reaches over and knocks on the door, saying, “Aduh, knock on wood, why my daughter insist on bringing bad luck on us? Knock on wood deh.”
“Aiya, come here, give that to me. He’s clearly dead.” Fourth Aunt pushes me aside and grunts as she lifts Jake’s upper body. “Ooh, he is still warm. Interesting! Would’ve thought he’d have gone all stiff. Must be because it’s such a warm night. Meddy, pull the blanket round from underneath him—yes, okay, good. Top wrapped. Let’s do the legs.”
We’re all staring at her, dumbfounded. Fourth Aunt is a D-list singer, a total diva with big hair and tight, sequined clothes. Being efficient with wrapping up dead bodies is not a quality I would’ve guessed her to have. But her tone is so authoritative that even Big Aunt obeys without question. We lift Jake’s legs until Fourth Aunt finishes wrapping the second blanket around them. When we’re done, we all step back with a visible shudder.
“Right, to Da Jie’s car!” Fourth Aunt says.
I stop Ma in time from opening the garage door, telling her I’m going to turn off all the lights first.
“Oh, yes, good thinking,” she says, clearly rattled by the whole experience. My heart twists at the sight of her lined face. I’ve done this to her. I’ve made her worry. The least I can do is try to fix it, try to stay on top of things.
Once the lights are off, we open the garage door, wincing at the whirring noise. We should’ve just carried the body through the house and gone out through the front door. God, I hope the garage door’s crazy loud whir doesn’t wake any neighbors.
“Let’s go,” I whisper. I brace myself and, before I can chicken out, grab the top half of Jake’s body. He seems so much heavier than I remember. How the hell did I even manage to carry him out of the driver’s seat and into the trunk in the first place?