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SharSpy10 [4:35PM]:Oh WOW. Your future wife is so lucky!

Kill me now.

Of course, Ma isn’t satisfied with me just seeing the chat messages she’s exchanged with this poor, weird asshat. Poor, weird asshat. Hah. I keep swinging back and forth between feeling horriblyguilty about CuriousGeorge (seriously, that screen name, c’mon) and judging him really harshly, because:

He sounds like exactly the kind of son Chinese parents would die to have: hardworking (boring), conscientious (yawn), and a total narc. I mean, I don’t actually know that the last one is true, but I’d bet money that if George saw a classmate doing something that isn’t completely kosher, he’d totally squeal on them.

He seems to think my mother’s version of me is really great, which should tell you everything you need to know about his taste in girls.

He sounds really gross and sexist. All that stuff he said about his app, OneLiner? Eww. Treating girls like “something precious”? So. Much. Nope. He’s way too ready to praise Mama every time she talks about cooking. Clearly, he thinks a woman’s place is in the kitchen. He’s just so wrong in every way that it is possible to be wrong.

But is Mama willing to listen to reason? Of course not. Just minutes after she hands me back my phone, she tells me that I’m going to meet up with George for a coffee.

“Like hell I am.” The words slip out of me so effortlessly. I don’t even bother waiting for a reply. I continue scrolling through the messages, hating this boy more and more with eachtext I read. Then I come to the end of the string, and…Oh god. “You asked him out?!” I half scream. “You offered to bring him homemade pork balls? What the fuck, Mama?”

“Sharlot.” There’s that warning tone in her voice, the one that sets the little hairs at the back of my neck on end. Then she stops herself and sighs. When she speaks again, her voice is conciliatory, though I still sense the tension lurking. Won’t take much to make it break through and snatch us straight into a shouting match. “You don’t have to cook the pork balls yourself. I already made some and put in Tupperware for tomorrow. Please, have coffee with him. Not date. Just a coffee.”

“To be fair, you are on an island that’s literally called Java,” Kiki says, popping her head through the door.

We both whirl around, mouths agape. “Kiki!” Ma cries. “How long have you been there?”

She shrugs as she walks in. “From the very beginning, I reckon. You guys should lock your door if you don’t want anyone listening in. And, you know, speak in softer voices. Mami’s on the other side listening, by the way. She’s got a stethoscope pressed up against the wall and everything. She ordered one online when she found out you were coming.”

“What?”

Mama’s lips thin, like she’s sort of surprised but not really.

Kiki turns to Mama. “Can’t believe you catfished some teenaged boy, Auntie. Can I see his photos?” She leans over and whispers to me in a very non-whispery way, “I bet he looks like a total nerd. Amirite?”

All I can manage is “I— Wha— A stethoscope?”

With a sigh, Mama says, “You talk some sense into her,” and passes the phone to Kiki. Kiki looks down, and her impish grin freezes.

“Um.” She glances up at Mama. “This is the guy you fooled into talking to you? CuriousGeorge?” She shows Mama the screen to double check. Mama nods. “Wow.”

Curiosity overcomes my shock. “What? What is it?”

“This is George Clooney Tanuwijaya.”

I don’t even bother holding back my laughter. “George Clooney?”

“Yeah, yeah okay, move on, the middle name isn’t the interesting bit.”

“He’s actually named George Clooney?” I’m still cackling away. Suddenly, Sharlot isn’t the most unfortunate name I’ve come across.

“Yeah, he is. Stop laughing and listen. Have you two never heard of the Tanuwijayas?”