Rent a Boyfriend - Gloria Chao Page 0,79

back now.”

Once Jonathan was safely returned to Xing’s waiting arms, I retreated to the corner, from where I asked, “So Esther’s mom obviously knows. How’d all that play out?”

“We told her after the wedding. Since we were already married, it wasn’t as big of a deal, and once Jonathan came, it wasn’t a thing at all.”

Well, that was simple. Guess that was the “chill” part coming through. My mom, on the other hand, was still going on about how of course Xing and Esther had been having “the sex” since (1) they had been living together (the horror!) and (2) reproductive issues = lower chance of pregnancy = more sex (and yes, she used actual equal signs in conversation).

I ignored my inkling of jealousy (I was so tired of hearing “the sex” come out of my mother’s mouth) and asked, “Where’s Esther? How’s she doing?”

Xing sighed. “Oh, she’s fine. She’s, uh, doing the zuò yuèzi thing.”

I widened my eyes until they felt dry from the air. “The sitting month? She hasn’t showered since giving birth?”

Ugh, their bedroom must smell disgusting. I had thought the ancient Chinese postpartum tradition had died away, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised given that my own mother carried a cow’s hoof comb in her purse.

If Esther was doing the sitting month, then Mrs. Wong’s stern look at the door was explained (though not justified) since visitors were not allowed.

Xing answered the question in my head without my asking. “Yuèzi was her mom’s idea, but she agreed to it because she thought she’d be pampered for a month. Turns out, it sucks pretty bad, and her mother is so strict it’s ridiculous. Esther didn’t know she’d be bedridden.”

As if on cue, raised voices trickled down the hallway. Xing winced, and exhaustion lined his face, overshadowing the joy.

“Come on,” he mumbled, and we bounced to the master bedroom.

Esther was sitting in bed, unwrapping a long, dirty cloth from her abdomen while her mother tried to simultaneously rewind it. If I hadn’t known better, it would have looked like attempted murder.

Esther threw the cloth aside—a third of it still constricting her—and screeched, “Mǎmá! Stop it! No one in America does these things and they’re all fine!”

Even though it was sixty degrees outside, Mrs. Wong raised the down comforter and covered her daughter up to the chin. She spoke in Chinese with a Kaohsiung accent.

“American and Chinese bodies are different. Put the bandage back on—it’s the only way to flatten your belly. Do you want to be flabby the rest of your life? And do you want to lose your teeth in the future? The baby sucks your calcium out while in the womb. Didn’t you learn that in dental school? Your yin and yang are unbalanced. If you don’t restore it, you’ll have joint problems and frequent illnesses in the future.”

“That’s not scientifically correct! And I’m disgusting! I’m going to take a shower.” Esther threw the blanket aside, then ripped wool socks off her feet and threw them across the room.

Mrs. Wong batted the air with her hand. “You’ll be taking a shower over my dead body. If you came to Taichung like I asked, then you would be in a confinement center. We would have splurged for you. Two hundred dollars a day for one month is worth a lifetime of health, is it not? Do you want arthritis?”

When Esther rose out of bed, Mrs. Wong pulled out the big guns. “You owe me this. You got pregnant on a random day and you refused the C-section. You deprived my grandson of good fortune. Such a terrible mother before he was even born. He could have been famous, rich, but no! You refused!”

So Mrs. Wong believed in Chinese fortune-telling, better known as suànmìng—which, literally translated, means to “calculate fate.” A common practice was to use the parents’ birthdays, the current year, and other arbitrary details to calculate the ideal day and time to give birth so that the child would have good luck. Obviously, to follow this practice, a C-section was needed.

Xing finally jumped in, telling his mother-in-law, “We don’t believe in any of that stuff. You’re here because we invited you. Don’t make me kick you out.”

Mrs. Wong turned to Xing. “So you don’t love my daughter? You’re depriving her of good health so what, you can run off with another woman when she dies young?”

Despite my intrusion into the private affair, I was frozen in place. Wild card.

Esther faced her mother, her expression