The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties (Aunties, #3)

by Jesse Q. Sutanto

It feels as though every available surface is adorned with a beautiful carving, or draped with rich velvet, or hung with a priceless painting. It’s the most decadent room I have ever been in. The marble floors are so shiny that they reflect the many chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

Whenever he wears that expression, he’ll come up with some brilliant solution that nobody else would have thought of.

She’s striking, her hair an icy silver that makes her look fresh and alert instead of old. It’s puffed up, of course, in the usual huge Chinese-Indo hairstyle that defies gravity.

She’s giving me serious Michelle Yeoh vibes, including Michelle Yeoh’s deadly martial arts ability.

“You all strike me as honest people. Not businesspeople.” She gives a humorless laugh.

replies in equally smooth Mandarin, delight clearly written on her face.

Ma claps her hands together, her eyes lighting up like a kid entering Disneyland.

The dread solidifies into a fist and crunches into my heart. Nathan’s smile disappears.

She nods at Ma and the aunties, who smile like she’s told them they have beautiful eyes. I want to scream at them that it’s not exactly a compliment she’s giving them.

her voice turns cold, all of the laughter leeching out of it.

"leach"?

the kitchen is somewhat normal-sized and therefore far cozier.

She’s got that voice again, the one that says she’s ready to get to work and everybody had better listen the hell up.

authoritative voice slices through the mess of thoughts flying around in my frazzled mind.

Right, of course. Can’t forget about saving face, not even now, when we’re trying to save my husband.

“Ashley is Aling’s granddaughter!” “No, that one is Zhenzhen’s grandson!” “Ashley is girl’s name, how can be grandson?” “In Ireland, Ashley is boy’s name!”

There is a horrified silence. Because worse even than the threat of death by mafia is the threat of losing face.

The thought slams into me like a steel anchor. Or whatever metal anchors are made of these days.

When most people either fight or run the hell away, I freeze like a hamster and hope that no one notices me because I’m so still. It never works, so I don’t understand what sort of evolutionary glitch has led to this survival instinct.

Every conversation falls silent, scythed by my extremely rude outburst.

I freeze like a rabbit that’s heard the sudden rustling of leaves nearby and knows it’s probably not another rabbit.

Your cake got virus.

just saying those words makes me feel filthy, like I need to rinse my mouth out with Listerine. Urgh. Ma and the aunties look as horrified as I feel.

Then it hits me, the way a lightning bolt strikes and brightens the entire sky so abruptly.

When you twelve, you putting on so much makeup, acting like you fifteen. Even when you so small you acting like a not-right woman.”

Hearing the words “Aunt Meddy” come from the mouth of a teen makes me want to crumble into a pile of ancient ash.

Big Aunt is glaring at the phone like she could intimidate it into behaving,

he’s oozing danger. It makes my skin prickle.

“Why she say that? Such no manners girl. What kind of not-right kid is this? Hanh?”

Second Aunt is hitting pitch levels that would make Mariah Carey, or a pterodactyl, jealous.

I can practically see the cogs in Ma’s brain whirring frantically as she tries to parse through what Fourth Aunt just said.

always disrespectfulling her elders,

Big Aunt snorts again. “Harrumph. This probably why she so spoiled, and so sombong.” “Mm, yes, all this rich people, they are the most sombong ones in Indonesia,” Ma agrees.

Using the threat of embarrassment, and therefore losing face, against Ma and the aunties is like stealing their ultimate weapon and then pointing it back at them.

“Why you think we want to f—fudge with you? We don’t want to f—fudge with you. Why your mind is so pervert?” For the first time, Rochelle looks unsure. “Uh, I didn’t mean it in a literal sense. It means like, to screw with someone.” Second Aunt narrows her eyes. “I hear this ‘screw’ quite a lot.

Rochelle quirks a smug eyebrow. I don’t actually know if eyebrows can technically be smug, but hers definitely are smug. They’re the kind of brows you just want to take a razor to, because there’s way too much smugness in them.

Rochelle gives a dramatic sigh, something that it seems to me everyone in Indonesia has mastered, and rolls her eyes.

Was I ever this insufferable as a teen? God, if I was, I owe Ma a world of apologies. My stomach roils with frustration as I take in Rochelle’s smarmy, victorious expression.

It’s the least sorry of all sorries.

“What the f—” before they slam into her. “Hold her arms!” Fourth Aunt yells. “Oh my god, oh my god—” Again, I have no idea if it’s me or Annabelle or Abi saying this. The three of us stare in horror as my mother and aunts

It disturbs me that the chauffeur doesn’t even seem shocked. He even—I notice belatedly—turned the car around while we were talking to Rochelle so he didn’t have to back out of the driveway.

Never mind my heart racing, it feels as though my entire body is vibrating with electricity.

Great, of course the one time Second Aunt agrees with Big Aunt, it’s over this.

She is anak ngga benar.” “Yes.” Big Aunt nods. “Not-right kid.”

My heart goes out to her. She reminds me of myself when I was her age. Or maybe by the time I was her age, I was used to my mom and aunts and knew it was futile to try to fight them?

estate is just as imposing in the daytime as it was last night. Maybe even more so, because in daylight, it becomes clear just how awe-inspiring it is, so expansive, and the walls around it so impossibly high that it looks like the embassy of a country that’s invested all of its GDP into the defense sector.

The casual tone that had graced her voice just a moment ago is gone, replaced by icy sharpness.

Should I be worried by the fact that Julia Child doesn’t seem at all surprised, merely irritated?

“Yes, so omni-nous. Like something so bad happen.

She literally cackles, like a witch, throwing her head back, clutching her stomach, and letting the maniacal laughter rip out of her. It’s the first time I’ve seen someone do that whole “Mwahaha!” laughter, and it’s disconcerting as hell.

A dangerous story, probably pockmarked with land mines.