Saturday Night Party

My uncle Ton mechanically mumbles to me, as we sit with our faces drowned in blue light from our phones. It’s really impossible to escape the topic of learning isn’t it? I make an effort to look up and prepare myself to speak; I’ve heard this question before and already have an answer. I guess it’s my duty to assume the role of the ‘hard-working student’ even at family dinners.

“Well its-”, I get interrupted. My mom calls me over to the dining table and plops plastic bags of Som Tam and Larb Gai into my hands. She watches as I struggle to undo the tightly spun-around rubber bands pinching the bags closed. Finally succeeding in opening one bag and squeezing the Som Tam into pastelcoloured plates, my mom snatches the rest of the bags, sighing as she does so. She finishes the rest herself, laughing at how quick she was. I retreat quietly back to my seat.

It’s Saturday night and we are back at my Aunt Pook’s place for the family’s weekly dinner together. It’s weekly dining unless cancelled by my grandfather. He sits at the head of the table, sporting his striped pyjamas. Always muttering “I’m already full from lunch.”, to which the rest of us respond by awkwardly laughing.

I have a choice whether to go or stay home and always pick the first option; otherwise I’m met with deadly glares from my mom and feel wrecked with ‘oh so much’ guilt afterwards.

My uncle doesn’t try to start another conversation and afterwards we all sit down at the dinner table. I sit next to my older cousin Keamen, who is 17, halfwhite, and surprisingly enjoys these parties. He says he likes having people around because he only sees his mom’s face during weekdays. His mom jokingly snaps back on how she has to stare at his ghostly white complexion all day long which the rest of us find hilarious. Keamen always complained about how he felt too white with us and too Asian with his friends in England. Funny enough, even though he can’t understand some of the jokes or eat some of the food prepared with us, I’d say he’s more included in the dinners than me. Unless you count the dozen several times Uncle Ton asked me if school opened yet. He knows - he just wants to tease me about it because I’d rather stay home. I mean who wouldn’t?

Today Keamen has six sausages on his plate and nothing else.

I fill my plate with Khao Pad and Gai Tod. We start eating and the grownups begin to talk. My aunt-in-law (also called) Pook turns to my mom. My dad gets off his computer and tries to joke with Keamen, who stabs his fork into a sausage. I reach for the mild Som Tam. If I were to make my mom proud without the use of school achievements, it’ll be if one day I could eat spicy food at the same level as her.

Keamen laughs as I examine the Som Tam, trying to scan for any hidden chilli pieces. “Good luck”, he smirks, taking a sip from his cup. It’s his second glass of milk this evening.

I scoff at his words when my mom places a bowl of edamame beans in front of me. I grab a handful, piling them up on my plate. My uncle points a finger and laughs out loud, snatching the bowl and asking if anyone else wanted some. The adults laugh, Keamen flashes an ‘I understand your pain’ face to me and my grandfather holds back a smile. It’s his first main interaction this evening.

Scraping his fork into the salad bowl, older Cousin Au, 24 years old, searches for a good looking piece of lettuce. Serving spoons are but a mystery to him. His twin sister Auy scrolls through Instagram reels as she chews on a stale Gai Tod wing; she sadly asked for pork this evening. She deems the conversation boring when my mom starts talking about my grades and extracurricular activities to my Aunt, who nods, agreeing that it’s important for a good future. Quickly, she flashes a look to Keamen who tensely avoids her stare. The youngest cousin

Pete sits opposite me, his face barely visible as he sits crossed legged on his chair. Pete is probably 10 years old - no one really knows his age as he’s small but with a smart chattering mouth.

He announces his presence by getting up and grabbing a bowl, filling it with water.

(Pete has several different ways of getting our attention):

1) Running around before tripping and crying loudly.

2) Standing on his chair before aggressively twerking and singing some Thai Country Rap.

3) Making a strange joke or comment on one of the adults.

4) Or this time..

He sets his bowl of water on the table, and dips a spoonful of Som Tam in. His tiny fingers grab at the washed Som Tam and grin. He’s found a way around the spiciness and can join in on the excitement. Everyone applauds and continues eating.

Wouldn’t that just wash away all the flavour? Keamen finishes off his 9 sausages and gulps down his milk.

“I hope there’s cake today.” He smiles rubbing his belly and stands up. He leaves the table then comes back with more sausages. I wonder if it’s possible to steal one without him noticing.

“Is there any more meat?” Keamen asks his mom. She gets up and starts frying chicken for him because he doesn’t eat any of the Thai food placed around the table. I offer him a plate of Khanom Chin and hot crab curry. He gives me a hard “No thank you” and takes his mom’s chicken. Keamen says his ‘white people’ tongue won’t be able to handle it as he watches the others devour it down like it’s their last meal. I grab some Khanom Chin for myself, making sure not to pour too much curry into the bowl otherwise it’ll be too spicy for me.

“Are you sure you don’t want any Khanom Chin, I swear it actually tastes really good aside from the spice.” He shakes his head and smiles. “I’m not here for the food. I’m here for the company and the cake.”

My grandfather suddenly looks in my direction and he dramatically points behind me. He looked as if he’d just had an epiphany.

“We made your favourite soup today, it’s on the stove, I think”. The dramatic music fades away from the background. Well I have to eat it now, no choice.

I grab a bowl of Tom Som Pak from the counter, making sure to get as many vegetables as I can. Keamen flashes a look of disbelief. His mom just forced a bowl of green peas into his hands and he takes slow, sad bites. After dinner, softbaked cookies are served. The homemade cookies baked by cousin Auy are 90% chocolate and 10% dough.

“So, have you thought about what you want to do in the future yet?” My grandaunt asks because strangely, people like asking personal questions about topics they know we don’t have. For example: after dating someone for 1 week - when are you getting married? Or after getting married - when are the children coming?

I shake my head quickly, trying to smile as the adults sigh. Personally, I don’t think it’s that shameful, with me being 15 and not knowing what I want to do with my life yet. Besides, even if I mentioned what job I had in mind, they’ll probably talk about a better, more prestigious job.

Afterwards, the cousins disperse in random directions from the table, occupying seats in the living room. I sit between Pete and Keamen on the sofa. Pete turns on a Thai horror movie, Pee Nak. He laughs loudly at the movie, shouting how stupid the ghosts look before asking someone to kindly accompany him to the toilet.

My grandfather turns on his phone and loud music blasts out. I see my mom and Aunt Pook open their mouths to say something, before stopping and continuing with the conversation. My aunt’s beagles, Elle and Phik Thai, bark outside at the commotion; they didn’t get an invitation to the party because they both smell like wet grass.

Keamen tries to watch the movie with Pete, reading along with English subtitles. Much to Pete’s frustration, Keamen replays specific scenes more than four times to figure out what the actors were saying. It’s a funny joke in Thai but the English subtitles translate to something different, what a scam. Keamen finally laughs triumphantly.

Uncle Ton grabs his tablet and takes a seat near us, poking Pete who screams and whines at him. He turns to me and thinks of something to say again.

“How’s school?”