One
Su-Lin
At my sister Mei-Ling’s wedding reception, the hotel ballroom is draped in twinkling crystal and shades of cream and blush, with red accents at every table and double happiness symbols etched in gold on the napkin rings. All perfectly chic. Well, perfect if you’re Mei-Ling and you want a wedding that looks like it emerged fully formed from some “Modern Chinese-American Weddings” Pinterest page.
I think it could use a little character, personally. A little fun. But the first thing my sister did after asking me to be her maid of honor was to hand me a list of things I am not to do at her wedding. Number one on this list: “Anything that fits Su-Lin’s definition of fun.”
I should be insulted; after all, I was the one who introduced Mei-Ling to her now-husband, Wes Chen. I practically made this wedding happen. If I want to perform the maid of honor speech with my Ruby Van Raspberry sock puppet and cap it off with a mic drop, I should be allowed to.Beggedto, even.
Numbers two, three, and four on the list:
2. No sock puppets.
3. No speaking in accents from your YouTube show or anywhere else.
4. No mic drops.
My sister knows me all too well.
But I’m not insulted. I know her pretty well, too, and it’s not that she doesn’t love me or my “definition of fun.” She’s just kind of anal about things sometimes, and her wedding beingModern Bride-pristine is one of those things. I can support that.
And so far, so good.The outdoor wedding ceremony went perfectly—not a single drop of rain despite Mei-Ling’s panic last night that LA would somehow be deluged in a Biblical-level rainstorm.The tea ceremony was traditional and sweet and kind of boring, which is pretty much what my sister wanted. My sock puppet (and accent and mic drop)-lacking speech seemed to hit the right notes of saccharine and snooze, and the audience ate it right up.
Not that I actually spent much of the day mentally present for any of this (speech included). An actual transcript of my brain today would look something like this:
Su-Lin’s Brain at the wedding ceremony: Wow, Brendan looks super hot in a suit.
Su-Lin’s Brain at the tea ceremony: Yep, still hot in that suit.
Su-Lin’s Brain while giving her big speech: How does he look even hotter now than earlier today, wearing that same suit? Ha, I could make a birthday suit joke in this speech. Auntie’s head would explode. And maybe Mei-Ling’s. I shouldn’t do that to my sister on her wedding day.
Su-Lin’s Brain during speech, part two: It’s too bad I couldn’t make that joke. Brendan would have thought it was both super cheesy and hilarious. Also, I bet Brendan looks even hotter in his birthday suit.
Su-Lin’s Brain, right now: I probably shouldn’t spend so much time thinking about my best friend naked, even if he is my wedding date.
In an effort to take my brain’s advice, I decide to peel my gaze away from said best friend, who is currently standing at the edge of the ballroom, looking at something my little sister Lan is showing him on her phone. (Lan also got a list, and number one on hers was “No cell phone.” Lan’s fifteen, though, and probably needs an actual phone-from-hand detachment surgery before she could comply with that.)
Before I manage to turn away, Brendan looks up and meets my eyes. He smiles that incredible smile of his, and I flush all over. Is it just in my head, or does that smile seem to contain a little somethingextratoday?
I smile back and give him a little wave. His grin widens, and he runs a hand through his bright pink hair—not a look that all guys can pull off, but he sure as hell can. I finally listen to my brain and walk over to Mei-Ling before my best friend can read in my expression all the thoughts I’ve had today about him pulling off all sorts of things.
Like my clothes, for instance.
Okay, that’s enough, Su-Lin. You’ve only had two glasses of champagne. Keep it together.
Mei-Ling gives me a big hug when I reach her. She smells amazing, like lilies and citrus. “Thank you for the speech,” she says. “And for everything. I would have panicked today without you. You’re the best sister ever.”
“Don’t tell Lan.”
She rolls her eyes. “Do you honestly think Lan would stop looking at her phone long enough to hear anything I said?”
I laugh. “Good point. Anyway, I accept your Best Sister Award—”
“—I didn’t say anything about an award, there’s no actual—”
“—I accept it,” I continue, breezing over her, “and any cash prizes that may come with it, because I clearly made the world’s most perfect match.” I tip my champagne glass toward Wes, who also looks quite handsome in his suit, though not Brendan-level hot. Probably Mei-Ling would disagree with that last bit. It wouldn’t be the first time she was wrong.
Mei-Ling smiles over at her husband, her cheeks blushing a lovely pink. We both have our dad’s blue-black hair, but Mei-Ling’s skin resembles a porcelain doll, while mine is what my aunt Alice calls a “peasant tan.” Even though she’s only an inch taller than me, Mei-Ling has always had this classic, statuesque beauty. An elegant sense of grace that I lack, apparently, if I listen to Auntie Alice, or, you know, consult a mirror.
