think we should be helping Cynthia first before you start marrying me off?” I protested.
“We are taking care of her. Evelyn is counseling her, dear. This doesn’t mean that we can’t help you as well,” Auntie Faye explained. “Besides, the down payment is nonrefundable.”
I covered my eyes with my hands. “I can’t believe you all did this. I know I have problems with dating, but this is overkill. You didn’t have to hire a specialist. Most of you are accountants or are married to one. You’re supposed to be good with money!”
“Aiyah, she isn’t happy,” Auntie Gloria wailed.
Ma blushed. She was a senior auditor at the firm. “This is a smart investment, Vanessa. Good matchmaking is a science. Madam Fong’s success rate and statistics check out.”
“Did she have a guarantee clause?” I asked.
“Oh, you can’t ask for that. This is a very complicated process,” Auntie Faye said. She handed her tablet to me. “See. That is her website.”
I frowned. The site appeared professional and the picture of Madam Fong seemed real enough, but the website was in simplified Chinese. “You’re cheating. You know I can’t read this.”
“You trust us.” Auntie Gloria pressed her hand against her chest. “Would your aunties lie to you?”
The room erupted in outraged Hokkien directed toward my mother. The absurdity of this situation would have made me laugh if I weren’t the crux of the joke. I didn’t fault their good intentions: these women would walk through fire for me. Auntie Gloria defended me from a bully at the park when I was in first grade, and encouraged Ma to enroll me in tae kwon do lessons. Auntie Faye snuck me romance novels when Ma banned them from the house.
“You know I love you all,” I declared over the din. “I mean, this is sweet in a weird kind of way.”
“Why weird?” Auntie Gloria asked. “We want you to be happy. We’re only thinking about you.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“Remember, no refund. If it doesn’t work out, then we only paid for the round-trip plane ticket and down payment.” Ma squeezed my hand.
The earnestness in their faces made it much harder for me to disappoint them. I was receiving an expensive gift I neither wanted nor asked for. Had this been a sweater, the proper response would be to thank them, wear the hideous garment once in their presence, and then bury it in a closet, ready to be pulled out to refute any accusations it had been tossed or given away. Perhaps one meeting with the matchmaker could be enough to pacify the aunties.
I placed my other hand over my mother’s. “Fine, fine. I’ll give it a try.”
The aunties broke out into triumphant smiles. Of course they’d be pleased: they got what they wanted.
“Does this mean I’m not getting a mani or pedi?” I asked.
“You said yes, so you will be getting one,” Auntie Faye laughed. “I’ll call the staff. Everyone gets treatments today.”
* * *
* * *
On the morning before I met with the matchmaker, I researched everything I could find regarding the lore. It had a long history in China. Some consulted zodiac charts, some numerology, but the best matchmakers were guided by their intuition and memory. Reading about the subject reminded me of how much it resembled fortune-telling. People yearned for romance and love as much as they wanted guidance; that was why both professions hadn’t died out. I was by no means qualified as a fortune-teller, nor had I any intention to be. The Yu family already had one true clairvoyant: Aunt Evelyn.
Ma provided me with the details for the meeting. She had also gone ahead and sent my picture and description to Madam Fong. This might be the only occasion I didn’t mind her interference. Typing up my own bio, measurements, and whatever strange details the matchmaker needed would have been painful.
I spent part of my lunch break traveling from the firm’s location near the airport to Linfield Oaks in Menlo Park. Surrounded by palm trees and beautiful gardens, the hotel’s classic-style brick and shutters created an old Hollywood feel. The aunties had outdone themselves by hosting the matchmaker at a four-star establishment.
After parking my modest, cherry-red, five-year-old Toyota Corolla, I headed to the lobby in search of the lounge. I knew the layout. Every Yu was well acquainted with every hotel in the Bay Area from the countless family functions: weddings, retirements, anniversaries, and birthdays.
The recently renovated lounge had the aesthetic of The Great Gatsby: gold leaf, geometric art