Big Aunt’s expression hardens. “Anyway, no room in fridge for body. Then how?”
“Just move cake out,” Second Aunt says. “Is covered in fondant, it can last forever outside refrigerator.”
“Is not fondant,” Big Aunt says, smirking triumphantly. “I know maybe you think is fondant because the surface so smooth, right? But is buttercream. Bride say no fondant, I say no problem, I can do buttercream. Customer always first—”
“I can’t believe it’s not fondant,” I cut in. There’s no telling how long Big Aunt’s speech would go on for, left unchecked. “Big Aunt’s right, we can’t risk the cake spoiling. Maybe we could put the body in one of the coolers until morning, and then once the cake’s out, we can transfer the body into the fridge.”
Big Aunt turns the idea over, chewing on her bottom lip. “Can. Tomorrow Xiaoling and mover man come over at seven-thirty, move cake into van, then you all can come and help move body into fridge.” I cringe at the thought of Xiaoling, a spry young pastry chef that Big Aunt hired to be her assistant, being in the same room as the dead body. We’ll have to make sure she and the mover don’t go anywhere near the wrong cooler. Big Aunt sighs. “Dead body in my fridge, so unhygiene.”
A crushing wave of guilt nearly knocks me off my feet at the trouble I’m causing everyone. “I’m so sorry, Big Aunt. I’ll buy you a new fridge, or pay for this one to be professionally cleaned afterward.”
“Aduh, don’t so silly, is okay.” She goes to the shelves, where there are three giant coolers and numerous boxes stacked in neat rows. She points to the biggest cooler and waves us over to help slide it out.
It’s a monstrous thing, easily big enough for Jake, provided we’re able to fold his legs up, which is a hell of a thing to think of, but here we are. We look at one another and nod. This is it. We unwrap Jake from the blankets and carry him to the cooler. It takes a few tries, a lot more arguing from my aunts and mom, and quite a few curse words, but finally, Jake’s in. Fortunately, because it’s such a warm night, we’re able to fold all of Jake’s limbs easily enough, though we did have to take off his shoes. We fold the blankets up neatly and put them on top of him, covering him from sight, and then Big Aunt gets us to pile all sorts of baking supplies on top of the blankets, covering them. By the time we’re done, we’re all sweaty and the cooler looks like it’s filled with bags of flour and confectioners’ sugar.
She writes out: CAN NOT OPEN on a Post-it and sticks it to the top of the cooler.
“If you write ‘Can Not Open,’ people will surely open,” Second Aunt says.
Big Aunt glowers at her. “Maybe you one of those people opening things not theirs, but most people more better than that.”
Second Aunt tuts and grabs the pen. She writes down on a new Post-it note: BAKING SUPPLYS, NO OPEN, HAVE TO BE COLD and slaps it down on top of Big Aunt’s original note.
“That’s probably fine,” I say, quickly. “Thank you, Big Aunt. Thank you, Second Aunt,” I say in Indonesian. They’ve helped me move some guy I killed; the least I can do is thank them in their preferred language. I turn to Fourth Aunt and Ma and thank them too.
“Aiya, thank us for what, we did nothing,” Big Aunt says, waving me off.
“You literally just helped me move a dead body.” I don’t know how to put into words what I’m feeling, so I give her a big hug, tears shimmering in my eyes. We’re not usually big touchers in my family, but Big Aunt accepts the hug fully, her strong arms encircling me tightly. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Ya, sayang,” she says, patting the back of my head.
We let go and push the cooler back next to the other coolers, and then pile sacks of flour on top of it. By the time we’re done, it looks like the world’s most innocent cooler, definitely not like one that contains a dead human inside it.
“Tomorrow we come back here seven forty-five. Xiaoling will be finish up with move, and then we move body into fridge and I lock it,” Big Aunt says. She mutters to herself, “Must bring lock.”
Even Second Aunt nods in agreement without snarking at Big Aunt. We’re all so tired by this time that we’re swaying a little on our feet. Bed has never seemed so good to me. It’s a good thing that we all live on the same street. Big Aunt drives us back, dropping us off at our respective homes, and Ma and I shuffle, zombie-like, into the house. I just about manage to peel off my sweaty clothes and take a scalding hot shower before trudging into my bedroom. I’ll have to deal with the clothes tomorrow. Burn them or something. Same with my car. Clean it, burn it, whatever it is, I don’t have the energy to deal with it now. At the sight of my beautiful, cozy bed, my muscles turn to water and I fall, face-first, into the pile of pillows. Only then does it hit me that we’ve forgotten to search for Jake’s cell phone. Shit. I make a mental note to retrieve it first thing in the morning. We have time. When we move the body from the cooler into the fridge, there will be plenty of time to find his phone, if it’s on him. The last thought I have right before exhaustion knocks me out is: I got through it. Nothing could be worse than tonight. The worst is over.