The Bride Test(9)

His mom considered his seventies kitchen with a frown. That look on her face was textbook dissatisfaction. If he lined up his old facial expression flash cards with her face right now, they’d match perfectly.

“You need to get a new house,” she said. “This one is too old. And you need to move all those exercise machines out of the living room. Only bachelors live like this.”

Khai happened to be a bachelor, so he didn’t see what the problem was. “This location is convenient for work, and I like exercising where I can watch TV.”

She waved his comments away, muttering, “This boy.”

A long silence ensued, broken only by the occasional slurping of Coke—Khai’s Coke, goddammit. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he looked from his brother to his mom and said, “So … who is M??” As far as he knew, m? meant beautiful, but it was also how you said America in Vietnamese. Whichever way he looked at it, it seemed an odd name for a gorilla, but what did he know?

His mom squared her shoulders. “She’s the girl you need to pick up from the airport Saturday night.”

“Oh, okay.” That wasn’t horrible. He didn’t like the idea of ferrying around someone he didn’t know and changing his schedule, but he was glad he didn’t need a rabies shot or an FDA permit. “Just send me her flight schedule. Where do I drop her off?”

“She’s staying here with you,” she said.

“What? Why?” Khai’s entire body stiffened at the idea. It was an invasion, clear and simple.

“Don’t sound so upset,” she said in a cajoling tone. “She’s young and very pretty.”

He looked to Quan. “Why can’t she stay with you? You like women.”

Quan choked in the middle of drinking Coke and pounded his chest with a fist as he coughed.

Their mom aimed her dissatisfied look at Quan before she focused on Khai and straightened to her full height of four feet ten inches. “She can’t stay with Quan because she’s your future wife.”

“What?” He laughed a little. This had to be a joke, but he didn’t understand the humor.

“I chose her for you when I went to Vi?t Nam. You’ll like her. She’s perfect for you,” she said.

“I don’t—You can’t—I—” He shook his head. “What?”

“Yeah,” Quan said. “That was my reaction, too. She got you a mail-order bride from Vietnam, Khai.”

Their mom glowered at Quan. “Why do you say it so it sounds so bad? She’s not a ‘mail-order bride.’ I met her in person. This is how they used to do it in the olden days. If I followed tradition, I would already have found you a wife the same way, but you don’t need my help. Your brother does.”

Khai didn’t even try to talk then. His brain had shorted and refused to compute.

“I bought her all sorts of fruit.” She moved the boxes on the counter around. “Lychees, rambutans …”

As she continued to list off tropical fruits, his mind finally caught up with him. “Mom, no.” The words came out with unintentional strength and volume, but it was justified. He ignored the instinct that told him he was committing sacrilege by saying no to his mom. “I’m not getting married, and she’s not staying here, and you can’t do things like this.” This was the twenty-first century, for fuck’s sake. People didn’t run around purchasing wives for their sons anymore.

She pursed her lips and propped her hands on her hips, looking like an aerobics instructor from the eighties in her hot-pink sweat suit and short hair with a flattening perm. “I already booked the banquet hall for the wedding. The deposit was a thousand dollars.”

“Mom.”

“I picked August eighth. I know how much you like the number eight.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and suppressed a growl. “I’ll refund you the thousand dollars. Please give me the contact information for the banquet hall so I can cancel.”

“Don’t be this way, Kh?i. Keep an open mind,” she said. “I don’t want you to be lonely.”

He released a disbelieving breath. “I’m not lonely. I like being alone.”

Lonely was for people who had feelings, which he didn’t.

It wasn’t loneliness if it could be eradicated with work or a Netflix marathon or a good book. Real loneliness would stick with you all the time. Real loneliness would hurt you nonstop.

Khai didn’t hurt. He felt nothing most of the time.

That was exactly why he steered clear of romantic relationships. If someone liked him that way, he’d only end up disappointing them when he couldn’t reciprocate. It wouldn’t be right.

“Mom, I won’t do it, and you can’t force me.”

She crossed her arms. “I know I can’t force you. I don’t want to force you. If you honestly don’t like her, then you shouldn’t marry her. But I’m asking you to give her a chance. Let her stay here for the summer. If you still don’t like her at the end, send her home. It’s that easy.” She switched her attention to Quan. “Talk some sense into your brother.”

Quan held his hands up as a constipated kind of smile stretched over his mouth. “I got nothing.”

Their mom glared at him.