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Any minute now, one of Iris Chin’s relatives would bring up her single status.
Her oldest cousin on her father’s side had just tied the knot. Natalie had had a late-morning ceremony at Toronto City Hall, followed by a multi-course lunch at a restaurant in Chinatown. She and her new husband had headed to their hotel after the reception, and Iris and other members of her family were now at her grandmother’s house, which was a short walk from Chinatown.
Iris took a seat in the corner of the ugly brown floral couch her grandmother had owned for decades and waited for someone to mention the fact that she was now the last unmarried grandchild.
Instead, her mother clucked her tongue and said, “I don’t know why Natalie got married at City Hall. She should have had a proper ceremony at a church and let her father walk her down the aisle.”
Okay, so they were going to complain about Natalie’s wedding first. Iris wasn’t terribly surprised. Her mother loved to complain.
“Aiyah!” Ngin Ngin, her grandmother, said. “Natalie’s married. That’s enough for me.”
“There’s no way Natalie would have gotten married in a church,” Seth, Natalie’s brother, said with a snort. “And there’s no way she would have let anyone walk her down the aisle. You know Natalie.”
Mom sighed. “Yes. I know.”
There were ten of them in Ngin Ngin’s living room, sitting on the couch and on chairs that had been pulled in from the dining room. Iris, Mom, Dad, Ngin Ngin, Uncle Howard, and Uncle Howard’s youngest two children, Seth and Rebecca. Seth was accompanied by his husband of ten years, Simon, and their daughter, Livvy. Livvy was a chubby-faced toddler whom Iris had met for the first time this morning. Rebecca was accompanied by her husband, Elliot. The two had wed last year, and Rebecca was now seven months pregnant.
Iris’s cousins, unlike her, were mixed race. Uncle Howard had married a white woman forty years ago, and they’d separated last year. His parents hadn’t approved of the marriage at the time because they’d been angry his wife wasn’t Chinese. But Ngin Ngin had no problem with her grandchildren marrying people of any color now. Natalie’s and Rebecca’s husbands were white. And Seth had married a man.
Seth handed his daughter to Ngin Ngin, who was sitting on the ugly armchair that matched the couch. Livvy settled in her great-grandmother’s lap and poked her chest.
“Pretty,” Livvy said.
Ngin Ngin nodded approvingly. “Your daughter has good taste.”
Livvy then poked the ugly brown floral chair. “Pretty.”
“Um,” Iris said. “Seth, does Livvy know any other words?”
“Apparently not today.”
Mom clucked her tongue again. She didn’t seem to appreciate this line of conversation.
“Livvy, you think Iris is pretty, too?” Ngin Ngin asked, pointing at Iris.
“Pretty!” Livvy shouted gleefully.
“You see?” Ngin Ngin said to Iris. “You’re pretty. Livvy says so! No reason you can’t find a husband.”
Iris looked at her watch. It had taken seven minutes and thirty-two seconds from the time she’d entered her grandmother’s house for someone to mention her single status.
Longer than she’d expected.
“I don’t think Iris has any problem finding men,” Mom said.
“No?” Ngin Ngin said. “Then why haven’t I met one?”
Mom looked away.
Iris didn’t tell her mother much about her life, but one morning a couple months ago, Mom had stopped by unexpectedly when Iris’s one-night stand was eating breakfast with her. Now Mom kept bringing it up, and she made inane comments about how nobody would buy the cow if they could get the milk for free.
But Iris didn’t want anyone to buy the cow.
And why on earth did her mother compare her to one? Iris was the miracle baby.
Well, that was part of the problem. All of her parents’ expectations were heaped on her. She had no siblings to share the load.
Her parents had tried to conceive for the first seven years of their marriage without success. Mom had seen various doctors and Chinese herbalists and despaired that she would never have a baby.
Then, by some miracle, Iris had come along. Mom was convinced it was because of the foul-smelling tea that the fourth Chinese herbalist had made her drink, but Iris had her doubts.
Anyway, Iris was an only child, and she felt like a chronic disappointment, though she tried not to let it get to her. She was happy with her life. She had a good job as a structural engineer, and she went out a lot with her friends. She had sex.
Life was good, aside from the constant judgment of her mother and that pesky issue with her apartment.
“Iris.” Ngin Ngin gripped her hand with her bony fingers. “Why is nobody answering my question? I want to know why you haven’t brought a nice man to meet me.”
“Iris doesn’t date nice men,” Mom said.
Not only had Mom met one of Iris’s one-night stands, but she’d met one who was covered in tattoos and piercings. In fact, he’d been pierced in some rather interesting places.
“What is everyone not telling me?” Ngin Ngin frowned. “Is Iris making the beast with two backs with lots of different men?”
Oh, dear God.
There were some awkward snickers.
“The beast with two backs,” Simon repeated. “Where did you learn this?”
“In a movie,” Ngin Ngin said. “Did not understand what it meant, so I asked when I went to the community center for English practice. They explained it to me and said it was in a Shakespeare play. Othello, I think? Feel very smart now. I quote Shakespeare!”
“Right,” Mom said, sounding horrified.
Ngin Ngin turned to Iris. “So? Is this what you’re doing?”
“Um...”
“It’s okay. I won’t judge. You can have fun. I wish I was young again so I could have fun! Not sure about drugs, though. I think drugs are not such a good idea.”
Iris just shook her head. Last spring, she’d made a comment about marijuana at Rebecca’s wedding. Now her mother and grandmother brought it up all the damn time. If only she could travel back in time and prevent herself from making that stupid comment.
“But you’re twenty-seven,” Ngin Ngin said. “Still spring chicken, but time to settle down.”
“Yes,” Mom said. “That’s how I feel.”
“No making the beast with two backs with everyone. I mentioned Rosetta’s grandson before, didn’t I? He’s nice. I set you up?”
“I don’t need you to set me up with anyone,” Iris said through clenched teeth. “And I distinctly remember you saying last year that if I was still single in two years, you would get to work on matching me up, but it’s only been one year.”
“Did I say that? I have a terrible memory, and sometimes I say things I don’t mean. If you don’t want to meet Rosetta’s grandson, maybe Mrs. Yee’s grandson instead? He’s a doctor.”
“What kind of doctor?” Mom asked.
“I think it’s called a proctologist? Not sure what that is, but it’s a big, fancy word.”
Being set up with her grandmother’s friend’s proctologist grandson was just what Iris needed right now.
Not.
“I can do better,” Mom said, raising her nose in the air. “You remember Mrs. Yip from church, Iris? Her son is a neurosurgeon. He’s just about finished his residency. Poor man. He had a fiancée from med school, but then he caught her making the beast with two backs with one of his friends...”
Mr. Neurosurgeon probably had some delightful trust issues.
Iris glanced at her father for help, but he sat silently in his chair, as usual. He was a man of few words and rarely bothered to interfere in any disagreements Iris had with her mother.
This was what Iris didn’t understand. Her parents’ marriage had never seemed particularly happy to her. Her father was about as talkative as a rock, and her mother was...well, her mother. Talkative enough for the both of them and always sticking her nose into other people’s business. They were people who shared a house but had nothing in common.
Then there was Ngin Ngin. Her husband had died nearly twenty years ago. Iris didn’t have a lot of memories of her paternal grandfather, Yeh Yeh, but the ones she did have were not fond, and she had the distinct impression that Ngin Ngin was happier without her husband. It sounded like Yeh Yeh hadn’t allowed Ngin Ngin much freedom and had discouraged her from learning English, which would have allowed her to be less reliant on him.
Yet Mom and Ngin Ngin were determined that Iris would participate in the institution of marriage, even though their own marriages left a lot to be desired. It made no sense. Iris had no interest in being like her mother or grandmother. In fact, the idea of turning into her mother was positively horrifying.
No, she wanted to remain an independent woman, without a man holding her back in life. She enjoyed sex, but she didn’t want anything more with a guy. As far as she could tell, relationships only caused problems and misery.
“So, Iris,” her mom said, “which would you prefer? A proctologist”—she made a face—“or a neurosurgeon?”
“I’m quite alright as I am,” Iris said. “No matchmaking necessary.”
Mom gave her a look. “What’s wrong with you?”
Iris adjusted the folds of her blue dress and sighed. “Natalie just got married. Can’t we focus on that instead? She’s thirty-seven, so I’ve still got another ten years.”
“You can’t wait until you’re thirty-seven!”
If it were just Iris and her mother, she wouldn’t be so restrained right now, but they were surrounded by their extended family.
“How’s the apartment search going?” Rebecca asked Iris, attempting to change the topic.
Iris wasn’t in the mood to talk about her apartment problems, but it was better than the alternative. “Still haven’t found anything.”
“What’s this?” Mom asked. “I didn’t know you were looking for a new apartment.”
Yeah, because I try to tell you as little about my life as possible.
“My landlord is kicking me out,” Iris said, “because his daughter is moving into the unit.”
“How is that legal?” Mom practically shouted in Iris’s ear. “You know Mrs. Wong from church—not the one with the mole on her nose, but the one with a bit of a limp, which is because—”
“Mom, I don’t need to hear about Mrs. Wong’s limp.”
“Anyway, Mrs. Wong has a son.”
“Of course she does,” Iris muttered.
“He’s a lawyer, and he can help you sort this whole mess out for free. Why don’t I arrange a date—”
“First of all, I am not going on a date with Mrs. Wong’s son. Second of all, this is perfectly legal. A landlord can evict a tenant if a family member wants to move in. They have to give you a month’s rent as compensation, but yeah, it sucks.”
It really did. Iris loved her apartment in Liberty Village. She’d been looking for a new place to live, but it was tough. The vacancy rate in Toronto was low and prices were high.
“I know what the problem is,” Ngin Ngin said. “We try to set Iris up with Chinese men, but maybe we should try white men or black men. That’s okay with me, Iris. I’m progressive now. But Rosetta is Italian. Her grandson isn’t Chinese. Why you refuse to meet him?”
“Our new neighbors are from India,” Mom said. “They have a son. He’s a couple years older than you, and he’s a real estate agent. He can help you find a new apartment.”
Iris took a deep breath and released it slowly. “For the last time, no matchmaking.”
“Just curious,” Ngin Ngin said. “You like men of all backgrounds? Anything but Chinese? It seems a bit sad to not like your own people.”
“Yes, Iris,” Simon said. “What kind of men do you like? I’m very curious.”
“I know she likes white men with lots of tattoos and piercings.” Mom sniffed.
“How did you gain this knowledge, Carolyn?” Simon asked. “Iris doesn’t seem terribly forthcoming on this topic.”
Iris sent her cousin’s husband an evil look.
Mom looked away. “I came over one morning to drop off some food for Iris, and she had a visitor.”
Simon laughed. “Is this true?”
“It’s true,” Iris said glumly.
“I want to see a picture,” Ngin Ngin said. “You have one on your phone?”
“No, I do not. And since you probably won’t shut up about it, I have no problems with Chinese men.”
“What do you think of Simu Liu on Kim’s Convenience?” Simon asked. “He’s very attractive, isn’t he?”
Kim’s Convenience was a Canadian sitcom about a Korean family who owned a convenience store in Toronto. It seemed to be fairly successful, and it was unusual for the word “success” to appear in the same sentence as “Canadian television show.”
“He’s attractive,” Iris admitted.
“So I can set you up with Mrs. Yee’s proctologist grandson?” Ngin Ngin asked. “Since you do like Chinese men?”
“I have a solution to your problem,” Mom said.
“Enough with the matchmaking!” Iris howled in frustration.
“I’m talking about your apartment problem,” Mom clarified. “Why don’t you move back home?”
“Absolutely not.” There was no way Iris was living with her mother again. Plus, she liked living downtown, and her parents lived in Scarborough. She didn’t care how much money she’d save. Living with her parents was not an option.
“I have a better idea,” Ngin Ngin said. “You can live with me. What do you think?”
Iris shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“It’s a great idea. Great location.”
This was true. The old house that her grandmother had lived in for over fifty years was probably worth a fortune now, since real estate prices in Toronto had skyrocketed and the house was right downtown. Iris would be within walking distance of all sorts of things, and a short distance from the subway.
But no. She was not living with her grandmother.
“I’ll cook for you,” Ngin Ngin said. “You are a terrible cook, but I can make you all sorts of delicious things. I told you I took a Thai cooking class, as well as learning Italian cooking from Rosetta. Also took Indian cooking class and cake decorating class. Cake decorating is not most useful skill, but it was fun.”
Her grandmother was a very good cook, and Iris was terrible in the kitchen. This was true. Still, she was not living with her grandmother.
“You live rent-free,” Ngin Ngin said. “Save lots of money and keep me company. Sons say I shouldn’t live alone anymore because I’m ninety-one.” She glared at Dad and Uncle Howard. “But I don’t want to go to seniors’ home.” Her lip quivered. “What happened to...” She mumbled something in Toisanese that Iris did not understand before switching back to English. “You should respect your elders.”
“You can live with us,” Dad said, speaking for the first time. “I’ve told you this before. You don’t have to go to a seniors’ home, but you should not be living alone.”
Ngin Ngin lifted up her arm. “You gave me emergency alert bracelet. That’s good enough, no?”
“We’re happy to take care of you.” Mom was probably not thrilled at the thought of Ngin Ngin living with her but felt she had to say it. They were often at odds, even if they both agreed Iris needed to get a man.
“Not living in Scarborough. This is my home. Have lived here since nineteen sixty-two. Not leaving.”
“I put you on a list for a Chinese seniors’ home three years ago,” Uncle Howard said. “Maybe you will be accepted soon. It’s a very nice place. You visited, remember? Much better food than in a regular seniors’ home.”
Ngin Ngin grunted. “Finally learned to speak English, and now you want to put me in a Chinese home? I have friends here. From all over the world.”
“We can still take you to visit them,” Mom said.
“No. You will put me in a home and forget about me.”
“That won’t happen,” Uncle Howard said. “I promise.”
“Hmm.” Mom tilted her head to the side. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea, having Iris live here.”
“That’s what I said!” Ngin Ngin nodded vigorously. “You don’t want me to live alone, and I have solution to problem. Iris can live with me and save money. What do you call this? Win-win situation, I think.”
Well, living with Ngin Ngin would be better than living with her mother.
God, Iris couldn’t believe she was considering this, but she was.
The location. The food. All the money she’d save.
“Please, Iris,” Ngin Ngin said. “I have friends, but they’re all old. They keep dying. Often feel lonely, but don’t want to move. I like my house.”
If Iris said no, she’d feel guilty.
She liked her grandmother, though she wasn’t so sure about seeing her every day and living by her rules.
As if reading her mind, Ngin Ngin said, “Only one rule. No drugs.”
“Alcohol?” Iris asked hopefully. She really needed some right now.
“Alcohol is okay, as long as you don’t get drunk. But not marijuana. And you can stay out late. I won’t ask questions. You’re grown up.”
Ngin Ngin wouldn’t ask questions?
Yeah, right.
But she probably wouldn’t ask as many intrusive questions as Iris’s mother.
“If you live with me,” Ngin Ngin said, “maybe I will get to meet some of your men with tattoos and piercings?”
“Absolutely not,” Iris said, “and for the record, Mom, they don’t all look like that.”
Mom blanched. “How many...”
Iris sent her mother a dark look.
Ngin Ngin’s face brightened. “I can teach you to sew! Will be much fun.”
“I have no interest in sewing,” Iris said.
“Would offer to teach you to cook, but I’m afraid you’re hopeless at cooking. That’s why I offer sewing instead. It’s mathematical. You will be good at it.”
Iris shook her head. “No sewing classes. It’s not a necessary skill anymore.”
“Okay, okay. But you will be able to change lightbulbs and reach high cupboards.”
“You realize I’m only four inches taller than you, don’t you?”
“You can stand on a chair or step stool to reach! I’m not allowed to. Your father forbids it. He says I will fall and get hurt.”
Dad grunted.
“You will tell me all about your days at work!” Ngin Ngin continued. “I know very little about your job, but I will learn.”
“It’s really not that interesting,” Iris said.
“And all about your friends and who they’re dating and marrying. What they name their babies, who’s cheating on who, and—”
“My life is not a soap opera.”
“Still, more interesting than my life. And we can watch soap operas together!”
“Um... That’s not really my thing, and aren’t they mostly on when I’m at work?”
“Fine. No soap operas. Maybe you teach me about this thing called Netflick? I hear there are some shows only available on Netflick, but I cannot watch because I don’t have it. But we can do it together!” Ngin Ngin beamed. “This will be so much fun. Please?”
Iris would feel very, very guilty if she said no.
“Okay,” she said. “When my lease is up in three weeks, I’ll move in.”
Ngin Ngin struggled to her feet and gave Iris a hug. “You are the best grandchild.”
“What about me?” Rebecca patted her stomach. “I’m giving you a great-grandchild.”
“If you have twins, then we talk,” Ngin Ngin said.
“I’ve already given you a great-grandchild,” Seth said.
“You live in Vancouver. Too far away. Iris is going to do all the cleaning and tuck me in bed and rub my feet—”
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Iris protested.
“I tease,” Ngin Ngin said. “But I hope you will bring sexy men over to meet me.”
“I hope so, too.” Simon grinned. “Put the pictures on Instagram.”
“Insta—what?” Ngin Ngin frowned. “What is this?”
“It’s an app for sharing photos,” Iris explained.
“Still don’t understand. What is an app? You can teach me once you move in.”
“I can’t wait,” Iris said, unable to muster the appropriate enthusiasm.
Her oldest cousin got to have sex in a fancy hotel right now, while Iris had just agreed to move in with her grandmother. This hardly seemed fair. Plus, she’d spent far too much time listening to her relatives attempt to set her up with proctologists and lawyers.
Though Natalie had put up with quite a bit of that, too, over the years.
Iris excused herself to go to the washroom, then sent a text to her friend Crystal.
Are we still on for tonight? I really need a drink.
Crystal replied immediately. The wedding was that bad?
The wedding was fine. My family, on the other hand... Eight o’clock at Elle?
Sounds good.
Excellent. Soon Iris would be able to pour alcohol down her throat and hopefully pick up a man whom she would never, ever introduce to her grandmother.