I shoot her an obvious glare, clutching the drink carrier for dear life. Surprisingly, I didn’t drop them. “Alli, you literally opened the door like you were waiting all day for me.”
“Oh, I was.” Alli steps aside to let me in. I always forget she’s got a key. “I set up everything in the back. Ready whenever you are, girly.”
I toss my keys into my bag and slide out of my work shoes, neatly placing them in the front closet. A savory aroma teases mynose, drifting from the kitchen, accompanied by familiar voices echoing through the house. “Are they rolling egg rolls again?”
I make my way through the cozy Inthavong-Collins home. I live in a standard, two-story home. I pass through the living area which then transitions into the dining space. There stands our wooden dining table with matching chairs that we bought off Craigslist years ago. The table has had its fair share of endless family dinners, lectures, all-nighters, and virtual therapy sessions.
The Inthavong-Collins’ open kitchen was a modest space, it “oozes simplicity with the clean lines and practicality,” according to Aunt Lina. It features laminate countertops, basic appliances, and a central island with a few bar stools for casual dining.
It’s a place where my aunt and dad prepared family meals and catering orders since we all lived here together. My dad needed the extra parent supervision ever since my mom walked out on me at three.Shocker, I know.
Alli nods, already munching on one. “Your aunt texted me to come over and help roll. She has a catering order tomorrow.” She holds up her half-eaten egg roll, “want a bite?”
I wave my hand, rejecting her offer. “I’m good.”
There, I see my Aunt Lina, her husband, Ralph, and my godmother Tanya. It’s a normal sight almost every Saturday. My Aunt Lina runs a small catering business, serving Southeast Asian foods, specializing in Laotian food. As usual, inching closerto the stove, I catch myself drooling at the sight of freshly fried egg rolls, the golden crispy shells neatly placed in a silver tray. Next to them are glistening chicken wings, the tangy smells appealing to my taste buds. It’s a sensory overload that welcomes me to a kitchen alive with the flavors of comfort like I’m exploring the city life of Laos. I have yet to visit Laos. It’s been a travel bucket list item of mine but I don’t know when I’ll go.
“Egg rolls and sweet fish sauce,” I note as I lick my lips. “How come no one told me you’re making chicken wings?” I ask as I grab a wing from the catering tray and snatch a handful of sticky rice from thethip khaobasket.
Laotian food holds a special place in my heart. It’s not just about the taste; it’s a connection to my roots, to my dad. Being a proud Laotian American, I’m a sucker for cuisines from around the world, but nothing quite hits the spot like a taste of home.
My dad and Aunt Lina, grew up learning how to cook from my grandmother and taking care of each other. One would prepare the food, and the other went to the store and tried to bargain with the owner to knock off a dollar or something. They didn’t have a lot growing up, so they were both determined to make names for themselves. They weren’t sure how, but they knew one thing that would put them in the Charlotte Metropolitan map: cooking.
The rest was history… they made it a whole damn catering business.
So, when my dad died, it killed all of us. It took us years to rebuild, but not the business. We’ve dealt with people walking out before, prime example, my mother, but my dad was everything to us.
I spent over a year in therapy, whether the sessions were for myself or with my family. I quit going after a while, but then my aunt insisted I go back, so I did without much of a fight. Aunt Lina didn’t feel right about continuing orders and running their business without him, so she stopped accepting orders for a while. Then Ralph, her husband and my godmother, Tanya, came in and helped her crawl out of the hole. And then, not long after the accident, she adopted me. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t know where we would be. Hell, where wouldIbe?
My family history is confusing as fuck, so I don’t make it a habit to share the family tree with people. Alli and Dylan are the only ones to know. Oh, and Jared.
Jared, my dearest step-brother from Ralph’s previous marriage. We’re still trying to understand our whole step-sibling dynamic. Are we more like brother and sister, or distant cousins? Who knows? But we get along just fine.
“We knew you were having pizza at your movie night with Alli.” Aunt Lina chimes as she wipes her hands on her apron. “And don’t eat any more chicken wings, they’re for a gender reveal party.”
I shrug and walk over next to her, “When isyourgender reveal by the way? I hope you know everyone is team girl.”
“No gender reveal for the twins. I want to be surprised,” she lifts her eyes at Ralph. I know he’s been dying to find out, but whatever the wife wants, gets. She has about three months left, and Jared and I know when they get here, this household will be booked and busy.
“I tried to talk her out of it, but she loves the element of surprise…” Tanya cuts in, picking up a tray of prepped egg rolls and getting ready to fry up another batch from the kitchen. “We’re almost done here, so you girls know what time it is.” Tanya sends a knowing look to both Alli and I.
With a loud sigh, I join Alli on the other side and we both say at the same time. “Saturday night is our ladies’ night. No one is to come inside and interrupt us.” Alli and I back away from my family and head for the laundry room.
I have no idea when this started, but for as long as I remember, Aunt Lina and Tanya will have a ladies’ night every Saturday, paired with a glass of wine and charcuterie boards that Tanya prepares. They spend hours catching up on everyone’s life, gossiping, and whatever older ladies do.
Rule number one on Saturday night is simple here: do not disturb them. You can’t even grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. So once they kick back on the couches, it’s game over, you’re not allowed in the common spaces.
It works out for us, it kind of really always has. Jared’s popular so he’s usually out with his friends. Ralph’s job as a lawyer keeps him busy every day (I don’t know much about his clients, but I know they’re a difficult group of people), and I hang out with Alli in our backyard or very rarely, we go out to dinner.
This is where my tradition with Alli comes in. When Aunt Lina and Tanya have their get-together, Alli and I have a movie night. But don’t be fooled, it’s not your average scene.
My dad bought a trampoline for me years ago, just to practice my jumps. I grew out of it after a while. And instead of gifting it to someone or getting rid of it in a garage sale, Alli had the genius idea to transform the trampoline into our cozy space for movie nights. We stole a bunch of unused white bedsheets from her house and threw them over the trampoline, hooking them in place with clothespins. We got yelled at for stealing the bedsheets, but it was so worth it. There was one blank canvas of this space, and we used it to project movies. Inside, we filled the space with pillows and cushions. The entrance was this charming mix of more fairy lights and a jumble of blankets, or at least that’s what we thought.
“So, are you excited for your first day?” Alli asks as she opens the patio door, leading out to the backyard. “I’m so stoked we’re finally going to the same school again. Your dad would be proud of you. I know it.”
I smile. “Thanks. I know he’ll be proud too.” I climb into the trampoline and Alli follows, “So, Rocky’s pizza?”
I crack open the pizza box, and it’s still warm, the cheese glistening in the light. “Wow, a large meat lover’s pizza.” I shoot Alli a raised eyebrow as she sets up her laptop for the movie. “Are you trying to woo me? You always order a supreme, and I end up picking off the toppings I hate.”
