She knew I never ate pickled ginger, so I shot her a confused look.
“How come like that?” she pointed at me.
“Dickson doesn’t want any,” Ga Jeh said. “Eat it yourself.”
My mother pointed at my father when she thought he wasn’t looking. “He shouldn’t be here.”
“Bah Ba can hear you,” I said.
“So, I don’t care.”
Bah Ba stared at her, but my mother continued, though in a whisper.
“Now he comes along, gives your brother some money, and the past goes away? When I was pregnant with you,” my mother pointed at me, “Ga Jeh was only two. She had a 102-degree fever. I begged him to stay, but—”
“We know,” I said. I was a teenager when she began telling me these stories. My mother and I would sit at the kitchen table, and she’d share with me all her guy problems, past and present. I was her therapist.
“Your Bah Ba,” my mother began again, “once he was drunk and tried to pull me to the bedroom. I wouldn’t go, so he pushed me to the ground, and then—”
“You’re screaming in my ear.” Ga Jeh tapped me on the arm and rolled her eyes.
My mother banged her plate on the table. “You think Bah Ba would’ve given your brother money if he didn’t have a baby? He used to hit Goh Goh, and now your brother wants to be his best friend!”
Bah Ba turned toward Mom. “Leih gong meh yeh? ” What are you talking about?
“Mouh yeh!”
An older woman came to our table, my sister-in-law’s aunt. We all stood to greet her, shaking her hand. I wondered if Bah Ba knew who she was and vice versa. “Tai hah leih,” she said to my mother, “gum leng.”
My mom raised her arms in the air, forming a V shape to show off her slim waist. Her red blouse sparkled with beads arranged in columns. She ran to the aunt and whispered, loud enough for us to hear, “I’ve had this blouse for thirty years.” My mother cupped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “This is my youngest son,” she said. “He’s so smart. A math teacher.”
“I teach history and English.”
She laughed, leaning on the aunt. “This is my daughter,” my mom said and pulled Ga Jeh close. My mother did her Vanna White impersonation, waving her hand over my sister as though she expected Ga Jeh to strike some pose.
“She looks more like your sister than your mother,” the aunt said to Ga Jeh.
“You’re going to make her feel old,” my mother said, cocking her head as if surprised.
Ga Jeh pulled away from our mother and sat down. If she were a son, our mother would’ve introduced her by saying that she had a degree in Hotel and Restaurant Management. Probably would’ve lied and said that she went to some famous culinary school.
“You two are so lucky to have a mother so pretty,” the aunt said. She inspected my mom’s long hair as though she were looking at a piece of art.
Bah Ba sat down. None of us had bothered to introduce him. He straightened up when he saw Jordan nearby, dressed in a white bodysuit with a white beanie, held by his mother.
“Do you have to work when you go back to Minnesota?” Ga Jeh asked.
“I get back in the morning,” Bah Ba said, “then straight to work.”
“You’ll need some rest,” I said.
“Money.” Bah Ba rubbed his fingertips together.
My mother returned to her seat. “Why don’t you sit here next to Mommy,” she said to me. “Later, I’ll help you crack crab.” She patted the seat between her and Bah Ba.
I shook my head and rubbed my forehead. She always referred to herself as Mommy, so much so that I’d called her that much longer than I should have.
“I can crack my own crab,” I said.
She smiled at Ga Jeh and patted the seat next to her again.
“Don’t even think about it, woman,” Ga Jeh said.
“Bah Ba,” I said, “do you want to get some food?”
Bah Ba pointed at his mouth. Said he had a hard time chewing.
My mother sucked her teeth at me and left the table.
“Leih go Ma sau a,” Bah Ba said. Your mom is crazy.
“I know,” I said and sipped my tea. “I know.”
Ga Jeh nudged my shoulder, getting up from the table.
I followed her to the buffet. A member of the Hawaiian-shirt band crooned a Frank Sinatra song about a love that got away. We passed up the salad bar, the Chinese dishes, and went straight for the seafood. Mounds of crab legs, oysters, and shrimp sat on a bed of ice.
“Total drama queen,” Ga Jeh said. “She needs to get smacked. If she’s going to disrespect him, don’t do it in front of us. I don’t want any part of it.” My sister spoke to our mother everyday on the phone, even though many of these conversations left my sister frustrated enough that she’d have to vent to me.
“Divorce him already,” I said. I used a tong to grab a couple of crab legs and put them on my sister’s plate, then put a bunch on my plate, extra for my father.
A hand gripped my shoulder. “How’s Bah Ba doing?” Goh Goh asked. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a suede suit that he’d bought just for this occasion.
“All right, I guess.”
“Watching Mom act around him is so freaking annoying,” Ga Jeh said.
“Mom came back to the apartment,” Goh Goh said, “just so she could lock her door to keep Bah Ba from sleeping in her bed. He asked me, ‘Why does she
