Page 23

“Jesus, what part of Jakarta did you guys live in?” I say.
“Aduh, no matter which part you live in, will have such problem,” Big Aunt says. “This big reason why we move. Now you kids growing up so soft, you hear someone is mafia, you get scared.”
“Uh, yeah? I think that’s kind of the normal reaction to finding out that your wedding vendors are mafia.”
Big Aunt just makes atchsound and pops a sliced mango in her mouth, chewing while also somehow sneering. I can’t quite tell what she’s sneering at—me or the mafia? I turn to Ma. Out of the four sisters, she’s the most cowardly. Her cowardice has obviously been passed down to me, the pansy who finds criminals intimidating. But Ma’s eyes are aglow as she chews on her mango slice, more excited than scared.
“Eh iya! You remember that next-door boy? Apa ya his name...”
“Hugh Grant Halim?” I hazard a guess. I’m starting to feel light-headed. “Tom Hanks Suwandi?”
“Apa sih?” Ma tuts. “What all those ridiculous names? Stop making fun.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. I guess I really am being an ass.
“Ah, yes,” Ma says, snapping her fingers. “His name Abraham Lincoln. Yes, Abraham Lincoln Irawan.”
“Of course. Why was I guessing Tom Hanks? US Presidents, obviously!” I’m being horrible and rude and I know it, but really now. Why is my family so calm about the world-shaking news I just dropped on their laps?
“We call him Abi. Oh, he had huge crush on your Second Aunt. Ya, Er Jie? You remember Abi?”
Second Aunt barely pauses her Tai Chi moves. She glances at us while doing Snake Creeps Through the Grass and bites back a coy smile. “Yes, he very in love with me, aduh, so embarrassing, deh, every morning we go to school, he ask me to sit on his bike.”
“Something wrong with you,” Big Aunt mutters, “is why bad guy always coming to you.”
“Er Jie, they can sense your inner naughty girl,” Fourth Aunt laughs.
Second Aunt purses her lips and ignores them.
“This is all very sweet,” I say with increasing desperation, “but what does this have to do with the mafia?”
“Tch, Meddy, be patient, okay, you don’t interrupt your auntie, so rude,” Ma scolds.
“I always tell him no, I not some ngga bener girl who will just sit on his bike,” Second Aunt says. Big Aunt sniffs and Second Aunt shoots her a glare, then moves into a different position, raising her arms up dramatically. “Wah, Abi become more desperate, every day bring me flower or kweitau, the kweitau always smell so good but I never accept.”
“I accepted them,” Fourth Aunt pipes up. “I always told him I’d give them to you, and then I’d eat them myself.”
Second Aunt freezes mid-position and stares at Fourth Aunt.
“What?” Fourth Aunt says. “Like you said, it smelled amazing, and I was like, what, four years old? I didn’t know any better. You!” She turns to Ma. “You were supposed to be watching me, but you were too busy playing in the ditch, looking for tadpoles or whatever, so I was left alone. I had to fend for myself.”
“Aiya!” Second Aunt cries. “No wonder why Abi never give up. He think I accept his kweitau! Aduh, you, ya! Cause me big trouble.”
“Why, what happened, Second Aunt?” Despite myself, I’ve gotten sucked into this inane story.
“Well!” Second Aunt huffs. “When he twelve years old, Abi join the mafia. He tell me he do it to earn more money, then can buy me Mercedes.”
“Oh no,” I whisper.
“You see what happen because you so greedy?” Ma says to Fourth Aunt.
Fourth Aunt rolls her eyes. “Right, some idiot kid joined the mafia because a four-year-old kept taking his kweitau, cry me a river.”
“Please tell me Abraham Lincoln grew out of it and did well in school and is now happily married with three children and a dog,” I say.
There is silence. Big Aunt chews another piece of mango noisily. Second Aunt plunges into a different position. Ma slurps her tea meaningfully, and Fourth Aunt plucks at her eyebrows.
“Oh no,” I moan. “Did he die?”