Rent a Boyfriend - Gloria Chao Page 0,64

door was propped open so Nǎinai’s spirit could come in. The guests chanted amid the chiming of bells, and the discordant sounds mixed to become, somehow, concordant. Cloaked by the darkness, I slipped through the sea of black to the back corner. Sticky-sweet smoke filled the room and my lungs as guests approached the casket one by one to bow and light their incense. Before rejoining the crowd, they jumped over a fire and ate a peanut to cleanse their soul.

These traditions—they were about respect. Devised to mean something, like how an engagement ring symbolized commitment and a wedding ring, love. The more traditions you were willing to go out of your way to do, the more you respected the deceased. For a family who didn’t stress affection or communication, maybe this was the only way to convey emotion. They believed Nǎinai’s soul was here, watching, so in death they were finally ready to show how much they cared. I would’ve felt so much better if I could believe Nǎinai to be here, listening, so I could have one last chance to make amends. But to me she was gone.

Someone wailed in Chinese, “Huílái ba,” over and over, trying to guide Nǎinai’s soul home. The dissonant phrase, louder, longer, and more urgent than the chanting, broke through my thoughts and returned me to the present.

The room hushed, and the guests filed out the open door into the courtyard to burn paper clothes, mansions, and furniture for Nǎinai to have in the afterlife. If an insufficient amount was burned, Nǎinai’s impecunious soul would haunt her family and friends’ dreams in revenge, complaining of hunger and cold.

I remained in my hiding spot until the room emptied. And finally, I took a step out of the darkness into the candlelight.

Nǎinai’s abandoned walker was parked beside the open casket, a single black bow looped around the handles. A lump formed in my throat.

The altar on the far wall was filled with ceremonial bowls, incense, and Nǎinai’s favorite snacks—oranges, mooncakes, and red bean bāos. Between the food, there appeared to be trash, and I wondered why no one had cleaned it up. I crept over to clear the litter and add my offering to the rest.

Upon closer inspection, the scraps of paper and worn trinkets weren’t garbage—they were memories. A crumpled picture of Nǎinai, clearly well loved and often looked at through the years. A receipt from a dinner for two. Figurines of oxen, Nǎinai’s zodiac year and therefore her favorite animal. Maybe Yilong’s hoarding was more than met the eye—it was a way for her to express herself. Similar to how my father showed his love by demanding Nainai’s funeral be here, close to the joint cemetery plot he had purchased years ago after Yéye’s death.

I placed the bottle of multivitamins at the front of the altar and whispered, “Eat your vitamins,” to Nainai one last time.

Clasping my hands in front, I stepped onto the raised platform. Then I stopped breathing.

It was Nǎinai but not. The cadaver’s skin sagged, signaling she was gone. The makeup was caked on, but instead of hiding the lack of life, it drew more attention to it. A tear trailed off my chin onto her cheek.

“Nǎinai,” I whispered, so softly I could barely hear myself. “I’m so sorry.”

My words caught in my throat. I lifted a shaky palm but pulled back before it left my side. We rarely touched before, and now it was too late. The body before me wasn’t her anymore.

“I wish it didn’t end like this. I wish you could hear me right now. I wish you could’ve seen me for who I was—a loving daughter and granddaughter who just wanted to be heard. Wanted to be happy. I wish you could’ve understood, but we’re from two different worlds. Good-bye, Nǎinai. Rest in peace.”

Footsteps. Behind me.

I whirled around. The sight of my mother made the lump in my throat swell. I longed to go to her, but she felt like a stranger.

I held her gaze and she stared back, the moment stretching. My breath blew out hot in the silence.

“You have to go,” she said finally, her face tight with worry. “He’ll know I told you. About the funeral. I wasn’t supposed to.”

That was it? I shook my head in disappointment. “Nǎinai’s gone, you have no children, and that’s the first thing you think of ? You know, I used to think that one day you’d learn to stand up for yourself. Then, when I realized you