“Why is everyone gathered inside the fridge?” she says, then she sees the open cooler with Ah Guan’s body in it. “Why’s that thing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be at the bakery?” She looks closely at him, interest piqued. “Huh. He’s not bad looking.”
Sometimes I think that Ma and Fourth Aunt are always at odds with each other because they’re just too similar. Priorities—neither one has them.
Big Aunt quickly fills Fourth Aunt in on what’s happened and our plan, and Fourth Aunt groans when she’s told she and I need to go back to the mainland to stash the body in the fridge. “I just got my nails done,” she moans, showing us her nails, which have been blinged out with crystals and, on her pinkies, even feathers. Ma cringes.
“Who do nails like that? How do you wash your bum when you have feather on your nails?” Ma says.
“Very carefully, not that it’s any of your business how I wash myself.”
Ma wrinkles her nose and flaps a hand over it. “So unhygienic. So not practical. You won’t be able to cook, bathe, clean—”
“I can do all of those things! I’m about to help your kid clean up her mess, aren’t I?”
Ma turns red, and I wince. The lowest, most painful blows my mother and her sisters strike with is me and my cousins. That’s how you know that Ma and her sisters are truly fighting—they talk shit about each other’s kids. I hate that I’ve become a liability for Ma, that from now on, this will forever be dredged up as a trump card against her. My nails may be impractical, but at least I didn’t kill someone like your daughter did!
“We are happy helping,” Big Aunt says, giving Fourth Aunt a look. “Is what family do. Now go, quick. We lose so much time already.”
Nodding, I replace the blanket on top of Ah Guan and close the cooler before grabbing the handle and pulling. It’s heavy, but it rolls easily enough on all four wheels. The handle feels a bit shaky, and I wonder if it’s built to carry the weight of a full-grown human male. I’ll have to be very careful with it.
Big Aunt walks out of the fridge first, and then Second Aunt and Ma hold open the swing doors for me as I pull the cooler along behind me, followed by Fourth Aunt, who frowns at her nails as she walks. Big Aunt looks as imperious as ever, not a hint of guilt anywhere about her.
Xiaoling, who’s busy putting gold luster dust on the decorative flowers, looks up at the procession. “The flowers are almost done, chef.” She spots the cooler and comes toward me, saying, “Let me help you with that. The back wheel catches sometimes—”
“No,” Big Aunt barks, and Xiaoling shrinks back, her eyes wide. I feel awful for her. All she’s done is try to be helpful. “You doing more important things,” Big Aunt says. “Must finish the flowers before guest arrive. Kuai yi dian!” She claps and Xiaoling positively jumps to attention, scrambling to finish painting the flowers.
I mouth a thank-you to Big Aunt and continue walking through the kitchen, trying my best to look like I’m not pulling a cooler full of dead dude behind me. Second Aunt, Ma, and Fourth Aunt walk ahead, which is good, as any and all attention is immediately attracted to them instead of me. With Fourth Aunt’s flamboyant clothes—she’s wearing a flamingo-pink sequined top and bright turquoise pants—it’s impossible to take your eyes off her. In contrast, I’m in my “Don’t look at me, I’m the help” all-black photographer’s outfit. With any luck, everyone will assume I’m hotel staff all the way back to the yacht.
Fortunately, the kitchen staff is just as busy as before. No one gives us a second glance; everyone is too occupied with chopping and frying. We make it out of the kitchen without getting asked any questions and breathe a sigh of relief.
Out in the quiet hallway, our footsteps and the clack-clack of the cooler’s wheels seem deafening. Mama glances back at me and says, “Meddy, you don’t pull like that, you pull like this.” She stops, adjusting my posture so I’m standing straight up. “No slouch, that is bad posture; later you will hurt your back.”
“Actually,” Second Aunt says, “I learn from Tai Chi Quan this is best posture.” She comes close to me and readjusts my posture, muttering, “Knees bend a bit, yes.” Between her and Ma’s adjustments, I’m now standing awkwardly, slightly leaning forward, knees bent, arms all weird and stiff.
“Aiya, no,” Ma says. “I been taking ballroom dance. I know good posture. Chin up, Meddy.”