19
Up next is the tea ceremony, a favorite for many couples. The bride and groom serve tea to their elders, and their elders bestow gifts upon them. Traditionally, the gifts come in the form of gold or red packets filled with money. With the more lavish Chinese-Indo weddings, the aunties and uncles often try to outdo one another; I’ve shot a wedding where an uncle gave his favorite nephew a car. Rare, but it has been known to happen. With Tom and Jacqueline’s ostentatiously wealthy families, who’s to say what the ceiling is when it comes to their tea ceremony?
The atmosphere inside the function room is electric. Seb and I take our respective positions, me behind the chairs for the elders so I can capture photos of the bride and groom, and Seb across the room. All the aunties and uncles and grandparents are side-eyeing one another as they await their turn to be served tea. The wedding organizer is perched next to the bride and groom, and she calls out the names of relatives, who go up two by two.
The first couple to go up is Tom’s parents. My shutter snaps dozens of pictures as Maureen passes a tray with two steaming cups of wulong tea to Jacqueline and Tom. They each pick up a cup and present them, heads bowed, to Tom’s parents. Tom’s parents accept with gracious smiles, take a sip, and then place the cups back on the tray. Tom and Jacqueline bow to them, and then Tom’s dad takes something out of his jacket and presents a piece of paper with a flourish.
The wedding planner announces, “A title deed to your new house!” and the guests ooh and aah and clap. Tom and Jacqueline hug Mr. and Mrs. Sutopo, and I take pictures of them holding up the title deed before Maureen places it in a prepared box.
The next ones to come up are Jacqueline’s parents, who give Jacqueline the brilliant set of jewelry I’d taken photos of earlier that morning and a Chopard watch for Tom—“Limited edition, worth more than a BMW,” announces the WP. The audience claps appreciatively, and the gifts are whisked away to join the title deed in the large velvet box. The rest follow, going from oldest relatives to youngest.
There are more watches—Cartier and Patek—and there are receipts for larger items, like a La Cornue stove from one of Jacqueline’s aunties, and a Hastens bed from an uncle. Then there is jewelry—again, more Cartier, a couple of Bulgari, and a smattering of Tiffany. And of course, as usual, 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. I feel bad for her. No doubt about it, the tea ceremony is the most stressful one for the extended family.
By the time they’re done, Maureen has had to ask for another box to hold all the gifts. Everyone claps and proceeds to a different hall to have lunch.
“Do you still need me around?” Seb says, glancing up from his camera screen. “Or can I head for lunch?”
“Go, I’ll be fine. Thanks for dealing with the groomsmen and everything.”
“Anytime. I’ll see you later.”
I see Maureen struggling to pick up both boxes and hurry toward her, slinging my camera strap over my shoulder.
“Let me help you with that.”
She glances up, startled. “Oh, that’s totally fine, I can manage.”
I watch, hesitating, as she piles one box on top of the other and grunts, lifting. The top box wobbles precariously, and I leap forward, catching it just in time before it topples over and rains expensive jewelry everywhere.
“Oof, thanks. I guess I can’t manage after all.”
“How come no one else is helping out with this? The stuff’s heavy.”
Maureen smirks. “I’m the only one they trust with this.”
“Ah, makes sense. You’re a great maid of honor. She’s lucky to have you.”
Her smile wanes a little at that, and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. We brisk-walk the rest of the way to the bridal suite in silence. When we get inside, Maureen says, “Just put the box down on the coffee table.” I do as she says and hesitate again. Should I leave, or should I wait for her? As though reading my mind, she says, “You can go now,” dismissing me with a flick of her hand.
Outside, I check the schedule and breathe a sigh of relief. It’s lunchtime, and after that there are a couple hours of break while everyone rests through the hottest part of the day. I won’t be needed for a few hours until portrait time in the afternoon, after which will be the wedding ceremony, followed by the reception. I’m about to go to the restaurant, where lunch is provided for all the wedding vendors, when my phone rings. Second Aunt’s face pops up onto the screen.
“Meddy, got problem.”
My heart thumps to the floor. “What is it?”
“Ah Guan phone. It keep ringing, someone want to talk to him bad. Maybe I pick up and say—”
“Do NOT pick up! I’ll be right there.”
I run all the way back to my room. Even before I open the door, I can hear the faint sound of music. I tap the key card at the door sensor frantically and burst into the room. Fourth Aunt jumps up, then sighs when she sees me.
“You’ll give me a heart attack!”
“What’s that music?” I say, rushing inside.
“Shoes!” Fourth Aunt scolds.
Seriously? I kick my shoes off and rush toward the bed. Someone has put the duvet on top of Ah Guan, covering all of him save for his socked feet, which are poking out the bottom. His phone is on top of the desk, lying facedown, and the music is coming from it, because Second Aunt was right, someone keeps calling him.
“Why didn’t you turn it to Silent mode?” I reach for the phone and pause. What do I do? Now that I’m actually here, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Answer it? Shit, no. I can’t do that. I’m still standing there, frozen, when it stops mid-ring. Silence falls, thick and heavy.
“It’s going to ring again,” Fourth Aunt says. “Been ringing for the past ten minutes. Er Jie couldn’t stand it; that’s why she’s out there.”
“Out there?” I glance up and finally catch sight of Second Aunt out on the balcony, doing Tai Chi.
“That position’s called White Crane Spreads Its Legs,” Fourth Aunt says. I give her a look, and she goes, “What? I’m serious. You think I’m making these names up?”
“Yeah, actually.” I shake my head. Why the hell am I arguing about Tai Chi position names right now? “Where are Big Aunt and Ma?”
“Went for lunch. You know how they get all angry when they’re hungry. They get . . . hang-angry. Ooh, I just coined a new term!”
“The term’s ‘hangry,’ and you didn’t coin it.” I focus on the phone. Okay, Meddy. Think. Okay, first things first: we need to know who’s been calling. Yeah. Okay.
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 off. I pick it up, grimacing, and tap the home key. The screen lights up, asking for an unlock code or a fingerprint.
I swear out loud.
“What is it?”
“I need his thumbprint.”
“Oof. Mm, yeah, not going to help you with that.” Fourth Aunt resumes plucking her eyebrows.
“Yep, don’t worry about it,” I mutter, walking to the side of the bed. “Okay. I can do this. No biggie. This is totally fine.” I dart to the bathroom, retrieve a hand towel, and wrap it around my hand. Deep breath. I lift the duvet, gritting my teeth as I see his hand. His pale hand. Mannequin pale. Shit, shit, shit. Gingerly, I maneuver it so I can press his thumb up against the home key. Nothing happens. Argh. Okay, other thumb. Still nothing. With increasing desperation, I try his index finger and finally hit jackpot. The screen lights up, and the phone unlocks. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. I drop his hand and do a full body shiver. Yech.
Then I look at my prize. Ah Guan’s phone, unlocked. First things first: I go into Settings and turn off the phone lock, so I won’t need his fingerprint again to access the phone. Then I click on the calls history list and—
“Shit.”
“What is it?” Fourth Aunt says.
I look up at her, my mouth open, aghast. “It’s Maureen Halim.”