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And two) “Zhao Yu Wen sounds lightyears better.” Her words, not mine.
Mom smoothed her tweed Chanel jacket, her lips twitching downward. “Are you saying you’d like to marry a bum?”
“I’m saying you remind me of Grandma.”
The same grandma who never approved of her marriage to Dad. A sore spot for Mom. One I prodded only when necessary.
Mom shook her head, pinching the corner of a Polaroid so tight, her fingers reddened. “I didn’t raise you to behave like this.”
“Must’ve been one of the nannies.”
We’d had three on rotation.
I still sent them postcards, mooncakes, and fruit baskets every New Year, much to my mother’s chagrin.
Mom did not approve of me treating them as humans. When it came to the nannies, her jealousy reared its ugly head fast.
She still hadn’t realized I didn’t actually have a relationship with them. I just didn’t have one with her, either.
After Dad died, she’d spent the remainder of my teens zoned out, lost in grief, until my aunt snapped her back into shape.
Speak of the devil.
Zhao Yu Ting—American name Celeste (but Celeste Ayi to me)—burst into my office, clad in a gauche Juicy Couture tracksuit and a Gucci fanny pack, looking like a caricature of a rich tourist.
“I’ve arrived.” She held three designer shopping bags on each forearm and boba tea clasped between manicured fingers.
I dug my fingers into my eye sockets. “You were never invited.”
She rushed to me, awarding me with air kisses a solid foot awayfrom each cheek. She knew better than to touch me.
“My apologies for missing your little soirée, Zachary. You know I fly to Seoul for my facial every fifteenth of the month.”
“It’s fine.”
I did not invite her to the party, either.
Mainly because Celeste Ayi could not be trusted with a credit card, let alone other people. She’d probably cause a diplomatic crisis.
“Aren’t I glowing?” She did a little twirl, smacking my temple with her Birkin. “Rejuran Healer, Chanel injections, Aquashine, and Baby Face Cell Therapy. It’s the only way for me to maintain my 22-year-old skin.”
She did not have a 22-year-old’s skin.
In fact, she barely had skin anymore. She was 99% fillers.
I dodged her Birkin when she darted to the couches to hug Mom and came face-to-face with the Go board I’d managed to avoid since the party.
I’d set up a perfect KO to finish off the little octopus. What a coward she was, running away from her inevitable failure.
Celeste Ayi squeezed Mom’s head to her chest, forcing her into a half-crouch.
“We were just going through our options.” Mom swatted Ayi1 away, gesturing to the impromptu dating agency, formerly known as my coffee table. They spoke in Mandarin. “Because Zacharyfailedto choose a wife at the soirée. Care to tell us your thoughts?”
“Why, yes, of course.” Ayi discarded the shopping bags on the floor, darting into the seat beside her older sister. She slammed her boba on the table, rubbing her hands together. “Finally, you two are smart enough to beg me for my opinion.”
Technically, it was Mom who’d asked for it.
I had no idea as to why.
