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WINSTON DROVE BY A number of seedy neighborhoods to reach the Chans’ hotel. Once he arrived, he did a double take of the name. Although a similar-looking blue and red emblem beamed down at him, the display looked off.
“Is this a Motel 6?” he asked. The number on the sign appeared almost taped on, and it lay on its side as though the 6 had decided to take a nap.
Bright spoke first. “No, that’s a nine. We’re staying at a Motel 9.”
Winston glanced at the man’s face, which looked as dour as ever. Was the guy making a joke? He turned toward Orchid, but she didn’t say anything to contradict Bright. In fact, she started unbuckling her seat belt.
Tal piped up. “It was Ba’s choice.” He pulled out a tube of muscle rub as he spoke and slathered the stuff over his neck. “He loved knockoffs.”
“Pew. Your lotion stinks,” Viv said, pulling out her atomizer and spraying everything in sight with her signature rose scent.
The combination of flowers and medicinal ointment did not combine well. Winston unlocked the doors and almost tumbled out of the van in his haste to leave.
Orchid stood still in the asphalt parking lot, under a lamppost. It cast an eerie orange glow on her face. She tugged Winston’s arm. “You must join us to burn the incense. The more voices making a plea, the better for Ming,” she said. “Wait here while I grab the supplies.”
In the meantime, Winston surveyed the motel complex. It held about ten rooms in a cramped U shape. Orchid strode over to unit number eight, inserted her key, and disappeared inside. Winston wondered whether she’d picked the room on purpose, asking for the lucky number at the front desk. After all, eight sounded a lot like the word for prosperity in Chinese.
Orchid soon came back with her arms laden. She chose a dark corner of the lot, away from the creepy orange of the solitary lamppost. Then she put everything out in a neat row: the packet of incense, a lighter, a large plastic cup, and a small Guanyin statue about the size of Winston’s palm.
He counted the goddess of mercy’s many arms. Though she was supposed to bring peace and mercy, Winston had always considered her a strange octopus-humanoid figure.
“We need dirt,” Orchid said. She pointed at Tal. “You’re second oldest. Go to that bush, dig under it, and fill this cup.”
Tal squinted at the scraggly bush on the other side of the lot. “What will I use for a shovel?”
“Your hands,” Orchid said as she pulled out joss sticks.
She handed one to everyone present. Each long red stick had a powdery yellow top. Winston rolled the incense between his hands. How had he gotten roped into this ritual? He wished he’d stayed by Kristy’s side after dinner instead of going with this odd family.
Winston saw Tal in the distance whacking at the hard earth with his arms. Closer to him, Orchid began arranging the siblings in a certain order. Winston noticed an odd pattern in the way they were lined up: all of Orchid’s kids first, with Bright at the rear.
Orchid then turned to Winston. “You’ll be the very last petitioner.”
When a tired-looking Tal returned to Orchid, she put the plastic cup he’d filled with dirt in front of the statue. Then she told Tal to stand next to Bright. The two of them brought up the back of the sibling train.
After picking up the lighter from the ground, Orchid issued directions as she lit each of their sticks: “I’ll go first. Then Sandy and so on, down the line. Say your petition out loud, so the goddess can hear.”
Wouldn’t Guanyin be able to listen no matter what? Winston wasn’t even sure what to say when it got to his turn. As he waited for the others to speak, the powerful fumes from the incense made his eyes water.
Orchid marched out first to the statue. “Oh, great Guanyin, grant my request. May Ming find rest. Let him still go on peaceful vacations in the otherworldly realm, like those we’d originally planned for our golden years.” She bowed three times and positioned her burning stick in the cup of dirt.
Sandy said, “Let Ming not be a hungry ghost.” Was she worried the patriarch would come back and wreak havoc on the rest of the family? Perhaps she was as superstitious as her mom.
Evan spoke next. “May there be fair wages in the beyond.” Was that a dig at the substandard compensation his father had given his employees?
Lyle strode up but didn’t say anything. Instead, he bowed and placed his stick next to the others. Winston wondered if Lyle’s head had been in the clouds, or if he truly had nothing to say. He noticed a slight frown appear on Orchid’s face.
Then Viv contributed her thoughts. “May your mercies fall on our family.” Her words sounded muffled, and Winston bet she’d snuck a cube of bubble gum into her mouth.
Tal stood for a few moments staring at the statue before speaking. “Let both Ba and Fort find peace.” His hands shook as he added his stick in with the rest.
This was the first time Fort had been mentioned, and Winston wondered at the significance. Was the rest of the family unable—or unwilling—to mourn for the eldest son?
Next, Bright said, “Ashes to ashes.” He refused to bow but added his stick to the growing pile.
Strange. The Chan family showed very unusual reactions to grief. Some of their cries to the goddess didn’t even sound that sorrowful.
Bright poked him in the shoulder. “Your turn.”
Winston gulped. He walked with slow steps to the statue and tried to think of something proper to say. “May the Chan family get resolution.” He did the customary bows while stifling a sneeze that threatened to explode as he breathed in the fumes. He lined his stick with the others, a bundle of eight altogether.
That “lucky” number again. Although Orchid now felt her family was cursed and had to light incense. It certainly seemed unlucky to lose two family members within the span of one day. Double bad luck, Winston thought. Or maybe a double homicide.