9
Present Day
Fourth Aunt perks up a little as we walk out of the kitchen. “I’ve never seen a dead guy before,” she says.
“You are too young,” Big Aunt says. “Wait until you are fifty, then all your friend parents here die there die, then you see dead people all the time.”
“Well, obviously I’ve been to funerals before. I’ve seen bodies in coffins. This is different. I mean I’ve never seen a dead guy who isn’t, you know, at a funeral.”
A couple of steps away from the garage, Second Aunt suddenly gasps and says, “Wait! Cannot go out there!”
We all jump, and in the ensuing silence, I swear I can hear all of our hearts beating a mad rhythm.
“What is it?” Ma says.
Second Aunt’s face is stricken. “We cannot see the body! Cannot go near it!”
“Why not?” Fourth Aunt demands, obviously irritated. She glances with anticipation at the garage.
“Tomorrow is big wedding weekend. So unlucky if we are near dead body now, and then we bring the bad luck to the wedding, how can? We will curse bride and groom and their whole family!”
Fourth Aunt groans. “Not this superstitious BS again.”
I don’t usually agree with Fourth Aunt, but I very nearly groan out loud with her, because as soon as Second Aunt says it, both Ma and Big Aunt actually pause to consider what she’s saying. My pulse goes so fast I feel as though I might faint. I can’t believe I might end up going to prison because of a superstition.
“But isn’t the belief that you shouldn’t go to a wedding after you’ve been to a funeral?” I point out.
My aunts’ eyebrows rise.
“I mean, this isn’t a funeral, technically. We’re not doing any burial rites or anything.”
Eyes shining, Ma snaps her fingers and points at me. “Meddy is correct. We just don’t bury body now. We—maybe we put him in freezer? Then on Monday, after wedding, we can bury body.”
Fourth Aunt blanches. “Uh, hang on, I didn’t mean—”
Big Aunt nods. “Okay, it sound good.”
Second Aunt chews her lip, hesitating, and Big Aunt glares at her. “And anyway,” Big Aunt says, “since hotel owner die, wedding probably cancel tomorrow, when he not show up. So we be back early, then we bury body.”
With that, they resume walking toward the garage, Fourth Aunt leading the charge, Second Aunt being pushed along by Ma, me trailing at the back.
“Ah, you leave light on,” Big Aunt says, walking through the back door into the garage.
“Yes, dead body cannot be in the dark,” Ma says.
Big Aunt nods. “Yes, good thinking.”
“More superstitious BS,” Fourth Aunt mutters.
“Just wait until you see what Meddy do to the body. She was very respectful,” Ma says.
I can’t believe she’s taking this moment to boast about me being respectful. This is peak Asian parenting.
We all crowd around the trunk of the car. My breath catches, my chest painfully tight, not enough room for my lungs to expand and take in air. I think I might faint. As though sensing my near-panic, Ma pats my arm before opening the trunk.
And there he is, just as I left him, lying in there with his long legs bent, knees at his waist, the hoodie covering his face. There is a mix of noises from my aunts—Big Aunt is tch-tching and shaking her head, muttering, “This what happen when parents don’t raise the son well,” Fourth Aunt is staring openmouthed with what I can only describe as horrified glee, and Second Aunt is . . .
“What are you doing, Second Aunt?”
She hardly glances at me as she goes into a deep lunge. “Snake Creeps Through the Grass,” she mutters.
“What?”
“She doing Tai Chi,” Ma says. “Doctor tell her do it for high blood pressure.”
“Uh. Okay.” I suppose we all have our ways of dealing with stress.
Fourth Aunt reaches toward the hoodie, and Ma smacks her hand.
“Ow! What?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ma demands.
“Isn’t it obvious? I want to see his face!”
“Aiya! You so disrespectful. People already dead, you want to see his face for what?”
“She’s right, Mimi,” Big Aunt says, gently. “We try not to disturb him too much.”
I have to turn away from the body. The sight of it brings back the trauma of the accident, and I can’t stop seeing flashes of Jake, again and again. Of him smiling, his hand on my knee. Now his hands are lying limply against his hips.
“Now what?” Second Aunt says, going through her Tai Chi moves a lot faster than they call for. “This boy so tall. How we get rid of him?” She shudders before going into a different pose with arms outstretched. “Maybe we can chop him up, cook some curry, then throw away bit by bit?”
“That’s a lot of curry,” Fourth Aunt says.
My stomach lurches. Calm. Down. They’re not being serious. They’re not. They’re just being their usual selves. Their usual murdery selves. What is going on right now?! Maybe one of the Chinese dramas they’re always watching is a crime show. Or maybe this is a mom thing: once you have a kid, you lose the ability to be truly shocked by anything. I mean, this is not normal, right? Right?
“No curry,” Big Aunt scolds. Second Aunt glares at her.
“You got better idea is it?” Second Aunt says.
Big Aunt sighs. “I think first.”
“Um,” I squeak, and they all look at me. I charge ahead before I lose whatever tiny bit of courage I have. “Maybe we should take him to the desert and bury him there?”
They mull this over. We’ve been on family trips to Vegas a couple of times; we all know the route well, the empty desolation between California and Nevada that people pass through and never stop at.
“Good idea,” Ma says, smiling with obvious pride at me.
Second Aunt nods. “Yes, very good.”
“Better than your curry idea,” Big Aunt chides. “Okay, we do that when we come back from wedding island. Definitely got no time to do tonight, we need to be at pier tomorrow by eight-thirty.”
Oh my god. In all the panic and confusion, I haven’t forgotten that we still need to work a wedding tomorrow, but I have forgotten the details of it—the fact that it’s at Santa Lucia and that we have to congregate tomorrow morning at the pier to catch one of the private yachts that will be taking us to the island. The thought of it exhausts me. Driving to the desert, digging a hole, filling it, and then driving back is out of the question for tonight. As it is, I can barely stay on my feet.
“We cannot leave him in trunk for whole weekend,” Ma says. “Later he will stink up my house, then will be very hard to get rid of smell.”
Big Aunt nods again. “We need to put him in fridge.”
Lord help me, we are literally talking about fridging the dude.
“My fridgerator not big enough,” Ma says.
“Only you got fridge big enough,” Second Aunt says to Big Aunt.
The only sign that betrays Big Aunt’s dismay at the realization that it would have to be her fridge is a flicker of displeasure, but then she nods and says, “Okay. Anyway, I will feel better with body in my fridge than if body in someone else fridge; who knows, maybe that person is not so responsible.” She gives Second Aunt the side-eye. Second Aunt’s nostrils flare and she opens her mouth to speak, but Big Aunt says, “We go now.”
“Um, could we move him into your trunk?” I say. “It’s pretty obvious my car’s been in an accident, and I don’t want us to get pulled over.”
“Okay. My car already in your driveway. Come, we move him.”
We all crowd around Jake’s body.
“We can’t carry him out like this,” I say. “What if someone sees?”
“Yes, cover him with something,” Second Aunt says. “Nat, you got big bag or not? You know, when Hendra go ski, he take his ski in this very big bag. I always think, wah, can fit me inside that bag.”
“Why you think that? Such unlucky way of thinking,” Big Aunt scolds.
Before Second Aunt can snark back at Big Aunt, Ma quickly cuts in. “No, Meddy don’t ski. Maybe garbage bag? Can it fit or not?”
We regard the body. “I think he’s a bit tall to fit in a trash bag, Ma,” I say.
“We’d have to cut him up first,” Fourth Aunt says, her eyes shining with what I can only describe as horrified glee. Has she always been this murderous? Have they always been this blasé about chopping bodies up?
“Such silly idea,” Ma scoffs. “So messy, and the garbage bags always leak. You will make big mess in my garage.”
“That’s because you always buy the cheap ones,” Fourth Aunt shoots back. “I told you to buy Glad brand. Haven’t you seen their ads? Glad bags will hold his cut-up body just fine, no leaks!”
I look at the ceiling. Pretty sure that when Glad was planning their marketing campaign, they didn’t think their target market would be a bunch of middle-aged Chinese women arguing about how to best dispose of a body. “What about a blanket?” I say. “We just need something to cover him while we move him to Big Aunt’s car. All it has to do is make him look less . . . like a dead body.”
“Good idea,” Big Aunt says.
Ma flushes with pride. The woman really needs to get her priorities straight. I run back inside the house, grab a couple of old blankets from our storeroom, and rush back into the garage, where they’ve moved on from the trash bag issue to arguing over some other thing. “Here it is!” I say loudly.
I pass one blanket to Big Aunt and shake out the other. We approach the body, blankets raised, and pause.
Fourth Aunt growls, “Come on, do it!”
Teeth gritted, I put my blanket over the top half of his body.
“Tuck the sides under him,” Fourth Aunt says. “Wrap him up like a burrito.”
“Oh god,” I whimper, but I do as she says, tucking the blanket underneath his body, cringing at how warm it feels. “He’s still warm,” I hiss, face scrunched in revulsion. I hesitate. “Should we—uh. I think we should check his pulse.”
“No, no, that very bad luck, touching corpse,” Ma says, shaking her head firmly.
I stare at her. “What are you talking about? I literally just touched it. Can I also point out you guys were talking about cutting him up moments ago? Would that not involve touching him?”
“Is different,” Ma says. Everyone else save for Fourth Aunt nods.
“How is it different?” I cry.
“Touching dead body to cut it up, get rid of it, is okay. But touching dead body to try and find life inside, ohhh, very bad luck.”
“WHAT?” I swear my head has exploded. “How is cutting up a dead body better than just a small touch to make sure it’s actually dead?”
“Aiya, if you don’t understand, no use trying to explain,” Second Aunt says.
“When someone doesn’t understand, that’s exactly the time you should explain.” I shake my head. Why am I wasting precious time arguing with them? Without giving myself time to chicken out, I grab Jake’s wrist, cringing, and feel for a pulse. Ugh, god, this is so gross. I feel about, pressing here and there, but my hand is trembling too hard and my palm is all sweaty and—
“Sudah!” Ma snaps, yanking my hand back. While still holding on to me, she reaches over and knocks on the door, saying, “Aduh, knock on wood, why my daughter insist on bringing bad luck on us? Knock on wood deh.”
“Aiya, come here, give that to me. He’s clearly dead.” Fourth Aunt pushes me aside and grunts as she lifts Jake’s upper body. “Ooh, he is still warm. Interesting! Would’ve thought he’d have gone all stiff. Must be because it’s such a warm night. Meddy, pull the blanket round from underneath him—yes, okay, good. Top wrapped. Let’s do the legs.”
We’re all staring at her, dumbfounded. Fourth Aunt is a D-list singer, a total diva with big hair and tight, sequined clothes. Being efficient with wrapping up dead bodies is not a quality I would’ve guessed her to have. But her tone is so authoritative that even Big Aunt obeys without question. We lift Jake’s legs until Fourth Aunt finishes wrapping the second blanket around them. When we’re done, we all step back with a visible shudder.
“Right, to Da Jie’s car!” Fourth Aunt says.
I stop Ma in time from opening the garage door, telling her I’m going to turn off all the lights first.
“Oh, yes, good thinking,” she says, clearly rattled by the whole experience. My heart twists at the sight of her lined face. I’ve done this to her. I’ve made her worry. The least I can do is try to fix it, try to stay on top of things.
Once the lights are off, we open the garage door, wincing at the whirring noise. We should’ve just carried the body through the house and gone out through the front door. God, I hope the garage door’s crazy loud whir doesn’t wake any neighbors.
“Let’s go,” I whisper. I brace myself and, before I can chicken out, grab the top half of Jake’s body. He seems so much heavier than I remember. How the hell did I even manage to carry him out of the driver’s seat and into the trunk in the first place?
Adrenaline. Right. My blood might as well have been Red Bull at the time. I could’ve moved boulders if I’d had to. But now, hours after the accident, I’m exhausted, my arms noodly, my legs stiff and slow. I manage to lift Jake’s torso a few inches up, my muscles trembling hard. “I can’t do this on my own,” I gasp, and am about to drop him when Ma catches his head.
“Er Jie, you take his hips,” she barks. “Da Jie, you take his legs.”
Big Aunt rushes to take Jake’s legs, as she’s told, but Second Aunt is frozen, her eyes wide. “I can’t—I don’t—” Big Aunt snorts, and Second Aunt glares at her. “What? I don’t want touch dead body, is that wrong?”
“Your family in need and you don’t even want to help,” Big Aunt says. “You tell me, is wrong or no?”
“It’s okay, I’ll take the hips,” Fourth Aunt says, running forward. She waves Second Aunt away. “You open Da Jie’s trunk.” She lifts, and together we heave Jake out of the trunk.
It’s hard to describe the walk to Big Aunt’s car, which, as promised, is waiting for us just a few feet away. Jake is heavy, warm, and limp, and even under the layers of blankets, I’m acutely aware that we’re carrying a dead human. We’re moving as fast as we can, but we have to adjust to one another’s speeds, which slows us down. Any moment now, Mr. Kim next door is going to wake up, get a glass of water from his kitchen, glance out the window, and see us. Or maybe, from across the street, Mabel’s chihuahua will wake up and ask to go outside.
Somehow, we manage to make it to Big Aunt’s trunk without any neighbor shouting “Hey, what are you doing?” Through unspoken agreement, we lower him gently instead of dropping him unceremoniously. I guess we have hearts after all, even though we’ve just moved a dead body.