Dial A for Aunties (Aunties, #1)

by Jesse Q. Sutanto

The sunlight at its back makes it almost translucent, and every lace detail shines through. I was expecting a Vera Wang or an Alexander McQueen, but the silk label says Biyan, which is a nice surprise. An Indonesian designer.

I don’t keep track of the wedding planner. They’re supposed to be keeping track of things like this!

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.

Inside me, a star implodes. This. This right here is the real reason why

gives us the fakest smile of the year

Sounds like you’re not getting any good ones of the groom anyway. Seb [10:47AM]: Excuse you, I am getting fantastic shots of the groom and his idiots. He sends a photo of some guy with his head in the toilet. Behind him, another guy is taking a shower, fully clothed.

a quiet voice filled with iron, impossible to ignore.

face has that glassy expression I often see on people when Ma is talking at them.

it’s beautiful—two queen beds piled high with fluffy pillows and even fluffier duvets, a floor-to-ceiling window that opens out to an expansive balcony, modern furnishings all around. And it’s nicely air-conditioned, giving us respite from the unforgiving heat.

She’s already made herself at home on the chaise longue, leaning back like a fifteenth-century lady.

Wow, my thoughts went to a dark place there. It’s shocking how quickly I’ve adjusted to the thought of, you know,

with a click that’s practically audible, everything falls into place.

I can’t believe I’m sitting here mentally bragging about this moment.

One thing I can say about the weddings we do: they are certainly never dull.

My heart does some complicated gymnastics move.

This is usually one of my favorite parts of the day—taking photos of the bride. There is no doubt that the bride is the highlight of every wedding. There’s just something about taking pictures of a woman wearing a gauzy, frothy wedding dress that makes me love my job.

“Is all Big Aunt’s fault,” Second Aunt says, triumphantly.

He continues smiling at me as if I’m very interesting instead of a wildly ranting weirdo.

a combination that is waaay too hot for his own good.

My heart is screaming. Can hearts scream?

resurfaces from the depths of my consciousness like a swamp monster,

These are my favorite moments of wedding photography. Capturing the in-betweens. The moments in between the big ones, when raw emotion is painted vividly and it feels as though I’m catching the tunes of their hearts with my camera.

Whoever introduced my mom and aunts to emojis needs to be thrown off a tall building.

I give up. Whoever said “It’s as hard as herding cats” has obviously never tried to herd a group of Asian aunties.

Come ON. You guys had ONE job. One! Just show up. And you can’t even—”

there are the red packets. These ones are bulging, stuffed with stacks of hundred-dollar bills. I catch sight of an auntie stuffing her red packet with more wads of cash; evidently she’s feeling outmatched by all the insane gifts.

“What? I’m serious. You think I’m making these names up?” “Yeah, actually.”

They get . . . hang-angry.

Taking a deep breath, I reach out while at the same time the rest of my body cringes away from the phone. Even my lips peel back, like my entire skin is trying to crawl

She strokes it with as much adoration as a mother stroking her newborn.

smiling at me as though I’m the only person he wants to see in the entire world.

He pauses, his lips only a single, lonely inch from mine, and the yearning inside me takes over and I close the distance.

A supernova goes off in my head.

My chest hurts, like someone’s just reached in with an iron fist, shattering my ribs, grabbed my heart, and wrenched it out,

A light dawns on Mama’s face, shaving off years and making her look so young and vibrant, I catch a glimpse of her as a twenty-something, full of fire and laughter.

Life could not get weirder.

it’s the best plan anyone could come up with given the situation. For the first time since this entire fiasco started, I actually feel kind of good.

Everything about her is standing tall and proud and furious.

Big Aunt cries the F-word in Mandarin, Second Aunt immediately launches into some Tai Chi pose that no doubt has some ridiculous name, and Fourth Aunt slides her over-the-top nails across her neck, hissing. I want to hug them all to pieces. They’re all so enraged on my behalf. “We’ll fix this,” Big Aunt says, and for once, Second Aunt doesn’t even come up with a snarky retort. She nods along while crouching into a pose that looks like it should be called something along the lines of Carrying an Extra Large Gourd

I am feeling bad for her. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to listen to those sobs and not feel the tiniest bit bad.

Every single cell in my body shatters into panicky shrieks, and it takes all of my will to stop myself from

” I can’t help but flinch away from the incandescent rage.

makes me think of a tumultuous sea.

Everybody falls quiet, all eyes crawling over to

An invasion. I understand the word now.

His eyes are alight. He looks more alive than I’ve seen him so far. He’s not liking this; he’s loving it. I decide then that I despise him.

Jewelry spills out like glittering intestines. It looks obscene somehow.

stroking the pile of jewelry as if it’s a baby.

Everything that just melted inside me moments ago freezes into sharp points.

I give what sounds like the world’s fakest laugh.