My Virtual Darcy 🏆 2021 Wattys Shortlister

1 - Best Birthday Ever

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a little sister hogging the bathroom is a pain in the arse.

How would my beloved Elizabeth Bennet react? I slammed shut my Pride and Prejudice hardcover, and strode back to the locked door.

"Ames, how long do you need to apply your stupid mascara?" I groaned and wiggled the knob.

The bathroom door jerked open as I raised my hand to bang on it. Amy's smug smirk welcomed me inside. I stared at her, gaping at the black smokey eyes and the holes on her The Pretty Reckless T-shirt. However, I had ten minutes tops to take a shower and get dressed before the guests' scheduled arrival. We, Cambodians, were punctual to a fault, leaving me nowhere near enough time to discuss that punk rock attire.

Her finger jabbed me in the ribs, but she strode to her bedroom before I could counterattack, yelling, "There's no more hot water. Happy birthday, sucker."

Urgh.

I deposited my smelly clothes into the laundry basket. I didn't regret offering to help my father pre-fry the spring rolls, but now, I smelt of ground pork, fish sauce, and sunflower oil. A delicious fragrance, yet not one suitable for a birthday party--all the more so my own. I stepped into the cabin, and squealed as the icy water froze my brain, hunching over in a desperate attempt at reducing the quantity of cold water drenching my buttocks.

"It's good for your wrinkles," Amy screamed from the hallway, rushing to go downstairs.

"I'm twenty," I shouted back, my teeth chattering together, "and you're only two years younger."

My hands worked the shampoo on my scalp while goosebumps crept up my skin. I sucked in a deep breath before rinsing my hair, then my shaking knees made me stumble on the bathmat as I wrapped myself in a towel. Cursing Amy and her never-ending showers, I shuffled with the mat to pry the window open and let in the evening warmth of Quebec summer. A hot draft invaded the room, along with the scent of the honeysuckle my mother had planted all around the house.

The doorbell warned me of the first arrivals when I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup. By the time I arranged my still damp hair in a crown, twelve adults and five kids flooded the house.

The dining room was stuffy yet comfy, the two tables we had arranged allowing us to move around yet still chat all together. Dad, who was choking on wasabi peanuts, fought with my younger cousins over the television remote. Near the wood stove, his elder sister was bragging about my cousin Edward, and Mom nodded at her every word, patiently waiting for her turn to boast about her daughters' achievements. Amy, and one of my friends from uni, Idris, were arguing about the latest James Bond movie, while setting the table with special occasions dishware.

I toured the guests, getting my cheeks sniffed here and pinched there, as per Cambodian tradition, until my father clapped his hands. "Dinner's ready. Tonight, the chef offers a selection of spring rolls, samosas, and shrimp toasts, lemongrass beef skewers, caramelised pork belly rolls, chicken lot cha, and Cantonese rice."

My youngest cousins darted to the fried delicacies, burning their fingers and tongues on the crispy brik pastry. The adults deployed around the tables, working together on a production line to drop off a sample of each dish into each plate.

"Are those pork skewers the same as last month, Mr. Chey?" Idris drooled over the rolls as he disposed them over white rice, his baby blue gaze lingering on the plate leaving his hands.

"Yes, except I doubled the quantity of minced shallots to strengthen the flavour. And please, call me Uncle." My father extended his arms to indicate everyone. "In Cambodia, everyone is family."