Crazy Rich Asians (56 page)

A young Malay butler wearing a crisp white dress shirt tucked into a gray-patterned
sarong opened the door, bowing gallantly at them. Nick wondered where Rajah, the longtime
butler, was. Rachel stepped into the front foyer and felt as if she had been transported
once again into another era, to the colonial Malaya of a Somerset Maugham novel, perhaps.
Anglo Raj wooden benches in the front hall were interspersed with wicker baskets brimming
with freshly picked camellias, mica-shade lanterns hung from the mahogany-paneled
walls, and a long, faded Tianjin silk carpet drew the eye straight back to the French
doors and the glorious view of the highlands.

“Er, before I show you the rest of the house, let’s, um, take in the sunset view,”
Nick said, feeling his throat go dry with anticipation. He led Rachel across the foyer
and reached for the handle of the French doors leading out onto the terrace. Then
suddenly he halted. He blinked a few times just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
Standing at the edge of the expansive formal lawn having a smoke was Ahmad, his mother’s
chauffeur.

“Fuck me!” Nick swore under his breath.

“What? What’s wrong?” Rachel asked.

“I think we’ve got company,” Nick muttered darkly. He turned
around, heading for the drawing room down the hall. Peering in, his suspicions were
confirmed. Sure enough, perched on the floral chintz settee facing the door was his
mother, who shot him a rather triumphant look as he entered the room. He was about
to say something when his mother announced, a little too cheerily, “Oh look, Mummy,
Nick and Rachel have arrived!”

Rachel spun around. Sitting in the armchair in front of the fireplace was Nick’s grandmother,
swaddled in an embroidered cashmere shawl, being poured a cup of tea by one of her
Thai lady’s maids.

“Ah Ma, what are you doing here?” Nick asked in astonishment.

“I received some very disturbing news, and so we rushed up here,” Su Yi said in Mandarin,
speaking slowly and deliberately.

Nick always found it disconcerting when his grandmother spoke to him in Mandarin—he
associated that particular dialect with childhood scoldings. “What news? What has
happened?” Nick asked, getting concerned.

“Well, I heard that you ran off to Malaysia, and that you mean to ask the girl to
marry you,” Su Yi said, not bothering to look at Rachel.

Rachel pursed her lips, shocked and thrilled at the same time.

“I was planning to surprise Rachel, but I guess
that’s
ruined now,” Nick huffed, staring at his mother.

“No matter, Nicky,” his grandmother smiled. “I
do not
give you permission to marry her. Now let’s stop all this nonsense and go home. I
don’t want to be stuck having dinner here, when the cook hasn’t prepared properly
for me. I’m sure she didn’t get any fresh fish today.”

Rachel’s jaw dropped.

“Ah Ma, I’m sorry I don’t have your blessing, but that doesn’t change a thing. I intend
to marry Rachel, if she’ll have me,” Nick said calmly, glancing at Rachel hopefully.

“Don’t talk nonsense. This girl does not come from a proper family,” Su Yi said.

Rachel felt her face go hot. “I’ve heard enough of this,” she said in a quivering
voice, turning to leave the room.

“No, Rachel, please don’t go,” Nick said, grabbing her by the arm. “I
need
you to hear this. Ah Ma, I don’t know what stories you’ve been told, but I have met
Rachel’s family, and I like them very much. They have certainly shown me a great deal
more courtesy, warmth, and
respect
than our family has shown to Rachel.”

“Of course they should respect you—after all, you’re a Young,” Su Yi said.

“I can’t believe you just said that!” Nick groaned.

Eleanor stood up and approached Rachel, looking her in the eye. “Rachel, I’m sure
you’re a nice girl. You must know I am doing you a favor. With your kind of background,
you will be miserable in this family—”

“Stop insulting Rachel’s family when you don’t even know them!” Nick snapped. He put
his arm on Rachel’s shoulder and declared, “Let’s get out of here!”

“You’ve met her family?” Eleanor called after him.

Nick turned back with a scowl. “Yes, I’ve met Rachel’s mother many times, and I went
to Thanksgiving at her uncle’s in California, where I got to know many of her relatives.”

“Even her father?” Eleanor asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Rachel’s father died a long time ago, you already know that,” Nick said impatiently.

“Well, that’s a very convenient story, isn’t it? But I assure you he’s very much alive,”
Eleanor shot back.

“What?” Rachel said, confused.

“Rachel, you can stop pretending,
lah
. I know all about your father—”

“What?”

“Aiyoh, look at her act!” Eleanor twisted her face mockingly. “You know as well as
I do that your father is still alive!”

Rachel looked at Eleanor as if she was talking to a deranged woman. “My father died
in a horrible industrial accident when I was two months old. That’s why my mother
brought me to America.”

Eleanor studied the girl for a moment, trying to discern whether she was giving the
performance of a lifetime or speaking the truth. “Well, I’m sorry to be the one to
break the news to you, Rachel. Your father did not die. He’s in a prison outside Shenzhen.
I met him myself a few weeks ago. The man was rotting away behind rusty bars, but
he still had the nerve to demand an enormous dowry in exchange for you!”

Eleanor took out a faded manila envelope, the same envelope she had been given by
the investigator in Shenzhen. She placed three pieces of paper on the coffee table.
One was a copy of Rachel’s original birth certificate. The next was a 1992 press clipping
about the
jailing of a man named Zhou Fang Min, after he had ordered illegal cost-cutting measures
that led to a construction accident that killed seventy-four workers in Shenzhen (
HUO PENG CONDO TRAGEDY UPDATE
:
MONSTER JAILED AT LAST
! the headline screamed). The third was a notice of a reward from the Zhou family,
for the safe return of a baby named Zhou An Mei, who had been kidnapped by her mother,
Kerry Ching, in 1981.

Nick and Rachel took a few steps toward the table and stared at the papers in astonishment.

“What the hell did you do, Mum? You had Rachel’s family
investigated
?” Nick kicked over the coffee table.

Nick’s grandmother shook her head as she sipped her tea. “Imagine wanting to marry
a girl from such a family! So disgraceful! Really, Nicky, what would Gong Gong say
if he was alive? Madri, this tea needs a little more sugar.”

Nick was livid. “Ah Ma, it’s taken me about twenty years, but I finally understand
why Dad moved to Sydney! He can’t stand being around you!”

Su Yi put down her teacup, stunned by what her favorite grandson had just said.

Rachel grabbed at Nick’s wrist urgently. He would never forget the look of devastation
on her face. “I think … need air,” she muttered, before collapsing into the wicker
tea cart.

64 Pak Tin Street

The apartment was not the love nest Astrid had imagined—the living room was tiny,
with a green vinyl sofa, three wooden dining-room chairs, and bright blue plastic
buckets full of toys taking up one side of the room. Only the muffled sounds of a
neighbor practicing “Ballade pour Adeline” on the electric keyboard filled the silence.
Astrid stood in the middle of the cramped space, wondering how her life had come to
this. How did it get to the point where her husband had resorted to fleeing to this
sad romper room?

“I can’t believe you got your dad’s men to track me down,” Michael muttered contemptuously,
sitting down on the sofa and stretching his arms out along its back.

“My father had nothing to do with this. Can’t you give me a little credit for having
my own resources?” Astrid said.

“Great. You win,” Michael said.

“So this is where you’ve been coming. Is this where your mistress lives?” Astrid finally
ventured to ask.

“Yes,” Michael said flatly.

Astrid was silent for a while. She picked up a little stuffed elephant from one of
the buckets and gave it a squeeze. The elephant made a muffled electronic roar. “And
these are your son’s toys?”

Michael hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” he finally answered.

“BASTARD!” Astrid screamed, throwing the elephant at him
with all her might. The elephant bounced off his chest, and Astrid sank to the floor,
trembling as her body was racked with violent sobs. “I don’t … care … who you fuck … but
how could you do this … to
our son
?” She sputtered through her tears.

Michael leaned forward, burying his head in his hands. He couldn’t stand seeing her
like this. As badly as he wanted out of the marriage, he couldn’t take hurting her
anymore. Things had spiraled out of control, and it was time to come clean. He got
up from the sofa and crouched down beside her.

“Listen to me, Astrid,” he began, placing an arm on her shoulder. Astrid jerked backward
and pushed his arm away.

“Listen to me. The boy isn’t my son, Astrid.”

Astrid looked up at him, not quite registering what he meant.

Michael looked Astrid directly in the eyes and said, “That’s not my son, and there
is no mistress.”

Astrid’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I know there was a woman here. I even recognize
her.”

“You recognize her because she’s my
cousin
. Jasmine Ng—her mother is my auntie, and the little boy is her son.”

“So … who have you been having an affair with?” Astrid asked, more confused than ever.

“Don’t you get it? It’s all been an act, Astrid. The text messages, the presents,
everything! It’s all fake.”

“
Fake?
” Astrid whispered in shock.

“Yes, I faked everything. Well, except the dinner at Petrus. I took Jasmine as a treat—her
husband has been working in Dubai and she’s had a hard time managing on her own.”

“I can’t believe this …” Astrid said, her voice trailing off in astonishment.

“I’m sorry, Astrid. It was a stupid idea, but I didn’t think I had any other choice.”

“
Any other choice?
What do you mean?”

“I thought it would be far better for you to
want
to leave me than for me to divorce you. I would rather be labeled the cheating bastard
with an illegitimate son, so that you could … your family could save face,” Michael
said rather dejectedly.

Astrid stared at him incredulously. For a few minutes, she sat completely still as
her mind sifted through everything that had happened in the past few months. Then
she spoke. “I thought I was
going insane … I wanted to believe you were having an affair, but my heart kept telling
me that you would never do such a thing to me. That just wasn’t the man I married.
I was so confused, so conflicted, and that’s really what made it so painful. An affair
or a mistress I could deal with, but something else didn’t seem right, something kept
gnawing away at me. It’s finally beginning to make sense now.”

“I never wanted this to happen,” Michael said softly.

“Then why? What did I ever do to make you this miserable? What made you go to all
the trouble to fake an entire affair?”

Michael sighed deeply. He got up off the floor and perched on one of the wooden chairs.
“It’s just never worked, Astrid. Our marriage. It hasn’t worked from day one. We had
a great time dating, but we should never have married. We were wrong for each other,
but we both got so swept up in the moment—in, let’s face it, the sex—that before I
realized what was happening, we were standing in front of your pastor. I thought,
what the hell, this is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. I’ll never be this lucky
again. But then reality hit … and things got to be too much. It just got worse, year
after year, and I tried, I really tried, Astrid, but I can’t face it anymore. You
don’t have a clue what it’s like being married to Astrid Leong. Not you, Astrid, but
everyone’s idea of you. I could never live up to it.”

“What do you mean? You
have
lived up to it—” Astrid began.

“Everyone in Singapore thinks I married you for your money, Astrid.”

“You’re wrong, Michael!”

“No, you just don’t see it! But I can’t face another dinner at Nassim Road or Tyersall
Park with some minister of finance, some genius artist I don’t get, or some tycoon
who has a whole bloody museum named after him, feeling like I’m just a piece of meat.
To them, I’m always ‘Astrid’s husband.’ And those people—your family, your friends—they
stare at me with such judgment. They’re all thinking, ‘
Aiyah, she could have married a prince, a president—why did she marry this Ah Beng
^*
from Toa Payoh?
’ ”

“You’re imagining things, Michael! Everyone in my family adores you!” Astrid protested.