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“You wish.” I turn away quickly. I grab the menu out of the seat pocket and pretend to be engrossed.
He takes my hand and gives me a lazy smile. “Don’t worry,it’ll all be okay. Hey, remember the last time we were on this route?”
How could I forget? “I fell asleep and woke up with my head locked at an angle.”
The smile grows wider. “You were so cute. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
“You’re such a dork. Go back to sleep.” I plant a kiss on his cheek, taking the chance to inhale the scent of him—again, totally normal and not at all creepy—and then go back to the menu. When I next look over, he’s fast asleep. Just like everyone else on the flight. I resume biting my nails and thinking about all the ways things could go wrong.
By the time we land at Heathrow, I’m a wreck. Everything passes in a blur: disembarking, regrouping with Staphanie and her family, going through customs, collecting the never-ending row of fake Vuittons, and finally, all of us piling into private cars we’ve hired for the journey to Oxford. In the car, exhaustion catches up with me and I doze off, my head resting on Nathan’s shoulder throughout the one-and-a-half-hour journey from London to Oxford. When the driver says, “We’re here,” I awake with a start and find to my horror that, yet again, my head is stuck at an angle.
“NOOOO!” Seriously? This again? Right when I’m about to meet Nathan’s family again?
Outside the car, my family crowds around me.
“Meddy, luv, what’s wrong with your head? Why like that?” Ma says.
“Alright, luv?” Second Aunt says.
“Stop saying ‘luv,’ ” I groan.
“Is sign of affection,” Big Aunt tuts. “They showing they love you, call you luv. British people, they full of love.”
“I know what it means, I just—ow.”
“Aiya, you need warm compress,” Ma says, massaging my neck. “Nathan, you suppose to massage her neck, she got stiff neck, just like me, you know? Every day need to massage, aiya, you need to look after my daughter better.”
“I’m sorry, Ma,” Nathan says, contrite. Ma has bullied him into calling her that ever since we got engaged, and to no one’s surprise but mine, Nathan’s gone along with it good-naturedly, without a single complaint. “I’ll do better.”
“What you need is to kerok it,” Ama announces.
“Oh yes, kerok!” Big Aunt says.
“What’s ‘croak’?” Nathan asks.
“I think the English term is ‘scraping,’ ” Staphanie pipes up. “It’s where you use a coin or the lid of a Tiger Balm container to scrape the skin until it turns red.”
“Oh, gua sha,” Nathan says. “Yeah, my dad used to do that to me whenever I caught a cold or wasn’t feeling well. It works!”
“I got bring Tiger Balm,” Second Uncle says.
“Wah, so helpful,” Second Aunt titters, fluttering her lashes at him shamelessly. “Maybe later I come your hotel get Tiger Balm for Meddy.”
“Nobody is going to scrape my skin,” I say. “The scrapes last for weeks. I’m not going to have huge red welts down my neck and back on my wedding day.”
“Yeah, it does tend to look really bad,” Staphanie laughs.
Second Aunt looks so disappointed that I feel obliged to add, “But you can still get the Tiger Balm from Second Uncle’s room, just in case.”
She brightens at that, until Big Aunt mutters, “Tch, lose face, so shameless.” Just loud enough for Second Aunt to hear, but not Staphanie’s family. Second Aunt’s cheeks turn red, but she continues smiling at Second Uncle.
“Speaking of hotels,” I say hurriedly, “I’m really tired. Let’s all go in and rest, okay?”
“You guys go ahead,” Staphanie says. “My family and I are staying at the college, so we’ll head over there and meet up with you later, okay?”
“Sounds good.” I give Staph a hug and then follow my family into our hotel.
The Randolph is the fanciest hotel in Oxford, a hallowed brick building built in the Victorian Gothic style. It’s hard not to be impressed by it. Actually, it’s hard not to be impressed by everything in Oxford. The architecture in England is so different from that in Los Angeles.