Ghost Boyfriend

deception

What a joke my life's proving to be, I think as I snag a seat beside Mom. Never have I been appalled by such a sight in my whole life.

Its a birthday. A glorious f*****g day for someone special where there's music and laughs, party games and whipped cream. It's always been the trend.

Well, unfortunately, other people had their trends.

We're all seated on the floor in a bare room, communal silence hanging about as though we're bereaved. No birthday songs, no music and most of my aunts and uncles are clothed in black. I can't even see the food stand anymore and in the middle of the room, a group of baldy old monks are leading the prayers, sitting with their legs crossed like kungfu kings and the smoke from a small metal pot twirling in circles into their noses. They're putting on some dirty white fabric with their pointy goatees long and unkempt. It's like we're in a funeral, only without a dead body.

Where in the world do these people come from?

No one's saying anything and Uncle Jin is partaking in the rituals fervently, his white fabric chewed in patches at the back making it look like dark holes through which rats swooped in and out of.

Yup, totally sucks.

"Mum, what the heck is this?" I whisper a bit too loudly that it causes a nearby monk with an eye patch to hiss at me. Come to think of it, he pretty much looked like dung.

"Now Peter, be patient." Mum smiles at the monk and he scowls at her, turning to resume his misery.

I roll my eyes, taking an excuse to go outside to some bit of fresh air. I find the garden deserted and slump on a nearby chair, taking my phone out to text Mag.

Peter: This is so stupid. We're having a Monk party.

Maggie: Ooh, that sounds like fun.

You wish.

Peter: No it's not. It feels like I'm back in the '70s where metal gong and incense were still in vogue. There's no singing or cheering and I'm so bored out of my skull.

Maggie: That stinks.

Peter: Totally.

"Peter, you're needed inside," Cousin Tonya (I believe that's what I heard Mum call her) swivels on her heels back inside, her wispy curls bouncing off her shoulder. I heard she was previously a model and has been to Australia where she gets featured on celebrity magazines and bosses people all day. Too bad she got the sack and a more worthy person slotted into place. Then she became a florist with a shop filled with wilting flowers and thorns and that was the end of business for her.

Now she sells expensive handbags to old ladies.

Back in the room, the smoke gets at me and I wheeze harder than everyone else. Aunt Priscilla is hurrying past me, eager to get to the door and probably annoyed that her beautiful gown is going to smell smoky. Dad is drawing the windows apart for air. What the yuck went on in here?

"We're done," the eye-patch monk hollers, narrowing his brown eyes that seemed like onion rings at me. I smile back nervously. "You were gone for the better part of the prayers." he chided, handing me a lump of coal.

"I went to take a piss and fresh air," I say defensively. Maybe save myself from boredom too.

As I say this, he lifts the metal pot he's holding to my face. I wheeze my guts out, dying in the heat. "See that you're present in such activities next time." he nods at my reddened eyes and smoothly leaves the room to the troop outside.

Mad with anger, I fling the coal into the smoke. It hits Tonya and I don't regret the throw.

"Ow!" She screams. "Who the f**k did that?"

"Mind your language young lady," her mother reproved.

With them gone, Uncle Jin suggest. "Let's all go outside and breathe in clean air. There'll be food and drinks and we'll watch the children play. Chop! Chop!! Family bonding."

So we're now seated in a nice patch of sunshine in the garden munching on Aunt Priscilla's Apple pie while my cousins banter nonstop with each other. Done with her business of passing out treats, Aunt Priscilla picks up a copy of Style Wow! Magazine and flicks through it quietly, probably reading about the rich and famous and their ostentatious spendings. Aunt Priscilla is greedy. Back last year when Uncle John went bankrupt, she'd gone all out for him, stating how on earth would they feed, throwing tantrums about and finally filing for a divorce, not bothered about his state of mind and health or how he'd manage with her gone.

At that pathetic time, Uncle Jin newly opened his coffee shop business and it boomed higher than his expectations. He found out about Aunt Priscilla's madness and helped Uncle John establish a bar and restaurant.

Now they're rich and Aunt Priscilla has been sweet on the whole family ever since.

"Oh sweetie," she drawls, flicking a page. "Cheryl got this new bronze chain and I like it."

"And how much is it darling?" Uncle John barely pays attention, tying on his phone and sipping a cappuccino.

"An eleven and hundred pounds," she bats her eyelid innocently. "I know it's a big amount and I understand - "

"When do you need it?" Uncle John turns to face her now, he's dark eyes crinkled at her face. "Can't it wait till we get home?"

"I was wondering if I could forward my account details and have you send it or something. I'd do well with cash too."

"That'd be later, but you can send the details now." he waved her off and I watch Aunt Priscilla slosh back in satisfaction, unlocking her phone screen.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is a more formal way of extortion.

At a corner, Tonya thrills my younger cousins with tales about her escapades while she was still in the modelling industry. How she slept with various big managers to get them to use her for their magazine (Too bad the last one didn't budge) and he gave her the sack instead. They're all looking at her in awe like she's saying something truly wise. I've always known there's more to Tonya than meets the eye but never knew it'd go this steep. Of course, she feels proud of her immoral achievements and is much too shameless to show it off in front of them.

Ugh, I hate my relatives.

They're all so fake, pretending to love one another meanwhile they hid selfish motives. Aunt Tara's blonde hair sweeps down to her waist and it's so well kept, it almost looked yellow. She's putting on a tight black dress that clings to her cleavage with white polka dots all over it. A fashion expert, I'd say she has a splendid taste in wears and hair products to look so fresh and glossy. She recently opened her twelfth boutique in Moose country and I hear that business is really looking up. She's having a phone call currently, while her twelve-year-old daughter Charity scowls at the other kids playing, obviously too expensive to join them. I learnt she has her car and a trendy blog where she shows off her scarfs for sale ( I'd wanted to buy one for mother the other day but found out each scarf cost three thousand pounds and anyone who buys them gets their faces featured on a special album known as Charity's Thursday) and the rich kids all swoon over it, purchasing as though the scarf did worth quite an amount.

"Hi Charity," I say, piquing some interest into my voice. She slowly turns her head to me. "I checked your scarf online and I was wondering - "

"Three thousand pounds. No cousin discount," she throws her head back delicately as though she's had to do this a bazillion times before now. "I believe that's what you wanted to verify?"

I'm awe-struck. "Um...yeah. Thanks."

Snotty b***h.

I listen to her Aunt Tara's phone conversation instead.

"Oh Angelo, that's so sweet," she smiles, her chirpy voice hyped so loud that everyone turns to her. "I can't wait to get back home into your arms. I miss you so much." she pressed her palm on her chest and is staring skyward dreamily.

Aunt Priscilla snorts, giving her the snide eyes. They've both been rivals from day one with Aunt Tara being so fake and Aunt Priscilla greedy and outgoing to get what she wants.

"Am sure she misses you too, hm." she runs her fingers through her daughter's hair. "You've both been distant and it's not right. She's a teen...here I'll hand over the phone. Charity love, say something at least."

"I don't want to talk," the girl scoffed, throwing her face the other way.

Aunt Tara appears smacked. "Charity darling," she lowers her voice. "He's your father. I can't possibly hang up without you talking to him."

"He's not my father, just some irresponsible boyfriend you picked up when you went job hunting," Charity's voice is rising and everyone's attention is on them. "When are you ever going to stop lying to yourself, you've lost your boutiques months ago to some cruel fake money-making scheme and you broke up with Dad like two years ago! Why do you pretend you both are still together? We didn't come here for Uncle Jin's party but to beg him for financial assistance! And you're not having an actual conversation, it's a remote control you're holding, not a real phone."

"Charity!" Aunt Tara darts her eyes over all of us. "Forgive us, my daughter's in a bad state of mind - "

"Oh shut up I'm completely fine! You're so fake, I want to hurl. I had to sell my car and scarfs to support when you told me you and your best friend Natalie established a business together. But where is she now? Gone, that too with my money." Charity's cheek puffs out in indignation. "I never even knew her! I'm sure you lied to me about the job and the money being lost. You used it all on yourself when you went shopping yesterday!"