Dad glowers at me. “What’s going on?”
“Everyone, I have an announcement!” I clasp my hands together. “I’m going to be on national TV.”
Mom’s jaw drops. Dad and Aunt Mei look just as baffled.
I pick up my phone and dial. It rings twice before Grandma Feng’s face appears on the screen.
“Wàipó, ni hao!” I greet her in Mandarin and hold up the phone so that my parents and aunt can exchange greetings with her, too.
“Who are those other people?” she asks, squinting at the camera.
“Just stay on the line, OK?” I prop the phone on a stand. “I want you to hear this, too.”
The camera rolls.
I take a deep breath and blurt, “I’ve been selected forWed at First Sight.”
Silence. Utter and complete silence.
Finally, Mom speaks, her voice sharp, “What?”
“It’s a reality show,” I explain. “They match you with someone, and you get married. The wedding is next week.”
Dad stares at me, speechless. Aunt Mei sets her chopsticks down like they’ve betrayed her. Grandma Feng says something in Mandarin that sounds like a swear word no one taught me.
Mom holds up a hand. “Wait. You’re telling me you’re getting married to a man you’ve never met?”
“That’s right.”
“Who is he?” she demands. “What does he do? Is he Chinese? Part Chinese?”
Nope, not if the production respected my wishes.
“I don’t know,” I lie. “That’s the whole point of the show.”
“You don’tknow?” Aunt Mei’s voice pitches even higher than Mom’s. “Laura, this is madness!”
“It’s an adventure,” I counter.
Isabelle steps forward. “I assure you, Monsieur and Madame Yang, the match is based on Laura’s preferences. The man our panel of experts selected is perfect for her.”
Mom narrows her eyes. “Which preferences?”
“Does he have a stable job?” Dad asks. “A steady income?”
I doubt it.
Isabelle smiles. “Those are legitimate questions, but I can’t answer them at this point, unfortunately. You’ll find out everything about him next week.”
The silence that follows is suffocating. Mom presses her lips together. Dad leans back in his chair, arms crossed. Aunt Mei keeps shaking her head. Even Grandma Feng looks ready to disown me on a video call.
Finally, Mom speaks, her tone ice-cold. “Don’t expect us to come to this… wedding.”
My stomach twists with disappointment, even though I can’t say I’m surprised. “As you wish.”
I look at the camera immortalizing my family’s strained faces. A part of me wishes I hadn’t done this. The other part—the royally pissed-off one—is excited that vindication is near.
Either way, the die is cast.
