Elizabeth waved her father into the back. “I’ll ring it up,” she said, heading behind the counter towards the register.
The burner fired up with a click, followed by the familiar clang and scramble of the metal spatula scraping down the wok.
Alexa simpered, clicking her tongue. “God, you’re so sweet,” she said. “Your parents must be lost without you, right? Anyway, Bryan has all of these people—school chums or something—coming from Hong Kong. Last minute, of course, and we don’t know if we’ll have enough space at the reception. I’m like, honey, can you help instead of making things harder? But you know how it is.”
She didn’t. Her last boyfriend had been a five-month, live-work affair, and the high point had been trying to deduct the expenses from her taxes.
She punched the subtotal, and the register trilled.
Alexa fished a Coach wallet from her stiff Louis Vuitton handbag, thumbing three crisp twenties and holding it out for her to take. “I am telling you, Lizzie, if you ever get married—when, when you get married—you must, must, must call a wedding planner. Don’t try to do it yourself like I did. No matter how on top of things you think you are, it’s too much for anyone! Even me!”
Elizabeth slowly counted out change. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Behind her, she heard the rustle of paper and plastic bags, the quick snap of plastic lids.
Alexa snatched the change out of her hand before she could finish counting it, and threw loose coins into the soup container for tips. “It was so good to see you. Tell Lydia it’s so sweet of her to call and check on me every day, but we can talk after the wedding. And come, come, come—I’ll make sure that you’re in the running for the bouquet.” Grabbing the two full plastic bags of food on the counter, Alexa trotted for the door. “But no cheating, though! Yum cha soon, okay? Bye, Uncle!”
As she opened the door, a figure passing through slowed and hugged her in greeting.
“My gosh,” Alexa squealed. “It’s been so long, I almost didn’t recognize you!”
Jane hovered in the doorway, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt down from her head. “Congratulations,” she said. “We’re so happy for you and Bryan.”
Alexa puckered her mouth in a show of an air kiss. “Chens, you’re so sweet!” she said. “But I’ve got to run this over to my aunty before she has a heart attack. Bye-bye, la!”
Elizabeth waved again, exhaling once Alexa cleared the block.
Jane greeted them both with a yawn, switching off her Walkman and setting it on the table.
“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth said. “I thought you were paying rent to the computer lab.”
“Lydia said she needed someone to cover,” Jane said, sinking into a seat and tossing her backpack onto another chair. Folding her arms on the table, she leaned her head against them and shut her eyes.
“Lydia says whatever she has to so she doesn’t have to show up.”
Jane groaned. “Leave her alone.”
Elizabeth had long accepted that loving her sisters didn’t mean understanding them. What they wanted, what they chose, who they were. They were familiar strangers, colleagues, and partners who knew each other too well and drove each other crazy. That is, except for Jane. To her had gone the sweet and docile temperament their parents once hoped they’d all inherit. There was no one more patient, more kind, or more loving than her older sister; with no one else did Elizabeth ever feel as comfortable. While Elizabeth loved all of her sisters, only one seemed to truly understand her.
“What are you doing here?” Jane said. “I thought you were at home with the others.”
Elizabeth clicked her tongue. “I couldn’t get anything done.”
“Did anyone call you back?”
She shook her head.
“Alexa was telling LB she’d have a good spot for catching the bouquet,” Vincent said. “Beat all the other girls away.”
“If I can’t find a real job, I can always marry rich.”
Jane hummed in sympathy.
“Well, don’t worry, la,” Vincent said, squeezing her shoulder. “Until your time comes, we’re more than happy to have you at the apartment.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Until we die and the landlord evicts you,” he replied. “But there’s still time for your life to turn around before then.”
3
Three weeks later, Alexa Hu married Bryan Wei in front of the entire neighborhood. Nothing unites a block like a common grievance or a wedding, and everyone got their cut of both joys: the mothers discussed and lamented the strength of the menu and the quality of the food; the local girls labored over finding the right dress and the best way to sneak themselves drinks; the gossips scrutinized the guest list for who might have been scrupulously ignored or forgotten; but no one relished the occasion more than the aunties. They picked and pecked for loose tongues, old scandals, new gossip, and borrowed grief.
As they entered the banquet hall, the Chen girls closed ranks against potential assault, nodding and smiling vacantly at the chattering neighbors, aunts, and uncles around them as they made their way to their assigned table. Wasn’t it sad what happened to Bridget Li? Did they keep in touch with Annette Chan since she moved? What were they studying? How were their grades? What were they doing, where were their cousins, and why hadn’t they been seen around this or that recently? They zigged and zagged, deflected and kept moving.
Hadn’t Elizabeth already graduated? Yes, Aunty. But Mrs. Ng said she wasn’t working? I’m doing odd jobs for now, Aunty, and helping out at the restaurant. Waa, what was the world coming to if a brilliant and beautiful girl like her couldn’t find anything? But Aunty hoped she might find something soon. Me too. Wasn’t Alexa’s wedding beautiful? It was, Uncle. Didn’t she want to get married soon? Not yet, Uncle. Ah, but girls like her were always saying that. Didn’t her father come? He didn’t feel well. Did she have any boyfriends? Not yet, Aunty. Such a beautiful girl like her? It’s true, Aunty. If she wanted an introduction, Aunty could help arrange it, because she wouldn’t be so young and pretty forever. Thank you, but I’m focused on other things right now. Oh, only joking, only joking! Don’t take offense, la.
The aunties fussed over them, fawning over their dresses, their manners, their hair, their makeup—such beautiful girls, such politeness, such grace—but they knew how they looked: severe, conservative, unflattering. Five girls in stiff cheongsam in a range of jewel tones like a collectible Precious Moments tableau. If Kitty could have disappeared through the window, she might have tried it.
Lydia peeled off for the bar once they found their table, hoping for a server who might be swayed to “forget” to card. Mary plucked the menu ticket for something to read only to find the entire thing in Chinese. Jade tried to kidnap the photographer for her own personal use. (“Quality prints, aa!”) Elizabeth resigned herself to the inevitable chaos of the rest of the evening, and hoped to avoid any more questions about her own future.
A rattling hum of clinking glass filled the room as the bride and groom made their way towards their banquet table. Jade giggled, tapping the edge of her water glass with the tines of her fork. “Such a beautiful couple,” she sighed. With a pointed look at her daughters, she added, “A great job and married, buying a house. Taking care of her parents . . .”