“Tante Yohana,” I say to the bride’s mother. Tante means Auntie in Indonesian—I can never bring myself to call my elders just by their first name. “Can I take photos of the jewelry, please?” In Chinese weddings, the bride’s jewelry is the last to go on, and is usually a gift from her parents. I’ve taken dozens of pictures of parents putting diamond necklaces on their daughters, and without fail, it’s always a bittersweet moment, full of tearful smiles.
Tante Yohana smiles and ushers me into the bedroom. She takes out a velvet box from the safe and opens it. “What do you think?”
It’s a gorgeous set—earrings, necklace, and a bracelet, all of them dripping with diamonds, arranged in a floral design. The smallest diamond in the set looks about one carat, the biggest easily over three. I’m looking at a set that must have cost them over a million dollars. “It’s beautiful,” I tell her, and she beams.
“It was designed by an Indonesian jeweler, you know,” she says, with obvious pride.
I have her stay right there in the room as I take pictures of the jewelry. I never let myself be left alone with anything expensive, just in case that thing goes missing and I get blamed for it. When I’m done with the jewelry, I slide the box back to Tante Yohana open, so she can see that everything is still intact, and she smiles and returns it to the safe. I’m about to go back out to the living room when my phone boops with a text.
Seb [10:18AM]: SOS
Meddy [10:18AM]: What’s wrong?
Seb [10:19AM]: Men.
A picture appears on my screen.
I stare at the phone in disbelief. Seb is in the groom’s suite, which is down the corridor from the bridal suite and looks identical. Except instead of bridesmaids swanning around, chatting and laughing, the groomsmen are lying dead drunk on every available surface.
Seb sends another picture, and I groan out loud. The groom, Tom Cruise Sutopo, is lying half naked in the large, claw-foot bathtub.
Meddy [10:21AM]: Why are men??
Seb [10:21AM]: Tell me about it. I’ve been trying to wake them for the last fifteen minutes.
Meddy [10:22AM]: Where’s the WP?
Seb [10:23AM]: I don’t know, I don’t keep track of the wedding planner. They’re supposed to be keeping track of things like this!
I swear under my breath.
Meddy [10:24AM]: I’ll be right there.
I slip out of the bridal suite and run all the way to the groom’s suite. Seb opens the door and sweeps inside the room, saying, “Ta-da! Presenting the male Homo sapiens.”
“Goddammit.” I survey the carnage. The room stinks of alcohol and vomit, and the groomsmen are so wasted that they don’t even budge at the sounds of our voices. They’re all in various states of undress; more than once I have to turn away quickly, my cheeks burning. “Um, ’scuse me, guys, you need to wake up now.”
Seb laughs. “Right, you’re gonna wake them up with your little teeny voice. Yo! Guys! Wake the hell up!”
I jump at Seb’s shout, but none of the groomsmen even stir. “Are they alive?”
Seb nods, nudging one of the groomsmen on the leg with his shoe. The groomsman mumbles something before falling back asleep. Inside the marbled bathroom, Tom Cruise Sutopo is in a similar state. It’s a bathroom fit for Pinterest—smooth marble everywhere, the bathtub a luxurious affair set behind a large picture window overlooking the hotel’s gardens. I pat Tom’s cheek gently. He grunts, but doesn’t stir.
“You need to channel your inner Asian Auntie and do a shout that’ll make your mom proud.”
“Ha, ha. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve raised my voice.” It’s probably the result of being raised by such loud women. I have a natural aversion to raised voices now. “You do it, Seb. Pleeease.”
Seb sighs, clears his throat, and shouts loud enough to make my ears ring. Tom stirs, blinks a few times, and falls back asleep. I’m about to ask Seb to do it again when movement outside the window catches my eye.
Ho. Ly. Shit.
It’s Big Aunt, Ma, and Fourth Aunt, and they’re moving the cooler, staggering across the expansive lawn with it, and—oh god—the cooler must’ve popped open at some point without them realizing it, because there is a fucking hand sticking out of it.
“OH MY GOD!” I scream.
Tom startles awake. “Wh-wha?” he rasps, blinking around him and wincing. “My head.”
“Nice job! I knew you had Asian Auntie within you,” Seb says, lifting his palm for a high five, but I rush past him and head for the door. “Where are you going? You still need to wake the groomsmen.”