Too Short for a Blog Post, Too Long for a Tweet 385

 

Here are a few excerpts from a book I recently read, "Rich People Problems," by Kevin Kwan.

I don’t even think that the queen lives this well, Jacqueline thought, recalling that before Alfred and Mabel had moved in, her godmother, Su Yi, had sent a team over from Tyersall Park to help train the British staff properly. Asian hospitality standards were fused with English manor-house traditions, and even her boyfriend Victor had been impressed the last time he visited. Holding up his Aubercy dress shoes one evening as they dressed for dinner, he said in astonishment, “Honey, they fucking ironed my shoelaces!”

Su Yi stared at the grainy shot of Charlie putting the ring on Astrid’s finger. “You know, of all the jewelry I own, this ring is the most special to me.” 

“I know, Ah Ma.” 

“I never got the chance to ask your grandfather if he bought it.” 

“What do you mean? Who would have bought this engagement ring, if not him?” 

“Your grandfather did not have that much money when I first met him. He was just a recent medical graduate. How on earth would he have been able to afford this canary diamond?” 

“You’re right. It would have cost a fortune at the time,” Astrid said. 

“I always suspected that Uncle T’sien Tsai Tay was the one who bought it, since he helped to broker the marriage. The quality of the stone isn’t perfect, but when I wore it, it always reminded me of how life can surprise you. Sometimes, the thing that at first appears flawed can end up being the most perfect thing in the world for you.” 

Su Yi was silent for a few moments, and then she looked at her granddaughter with a sudden intensity. “Astrid, I want you to promise me something.” 

“Yes, Ah Ma?” 

“If I die before your wedding day, please don’t go into all that mourning nonsense for me. I want you to have your wedding just as you planned in March. Will you promise me you’ll do that?” 

“Oh Ah Ma, nothing’s going to happen. You’re go…going to be sitting in the front row of my wedding,” Astrid stammered. 

"I’m planning on it, but I wanted to say this just in case.” 

Astrid looked away, trying to hold back her tears.

No matter how old you are, no matter how ready you think you are, nothing quite prepares you for the loss of a parent. My father passed away years ago, and I still haven’t quite recovered. People have been saying to me all week long, “At least your mother lived to this ripe old age, and you got to spend all these years with her.” And I just want to spit in their faces. I want to scream at them, Shut up, all of you! My mother died. Please don’t tell me how lucky or fortunate I am that she lived this long. She has been here on this earth my entire life and now suddenly in the blink of an eye she’s gone. Gone, gone, gone.

To my daughter Felicity YOUNG LEONG, I bequeath my collection of Celadon porcelain, which I know she will cherish and keep immaculately spotless for all eternity. (Alix: Hahaha! Felicity and her OCD. Mummy sure had a sense of humor when she wrote her will!)

“What’s higher-ranking than a countess? A duchess? A princess? An empress? I don’t care if you need to bribe Prince Bibimbap of Korea, I just want Colette to have to curtsy to me the next time I encounter her. I want to wipe the floor with her face!” Kitty screamed.

Charlie put down the note and reclined on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Astrid had been lying on this very bed, probably staring at the same view. It was her favorite suite at the George V and he had been the one to introduce her to it the first time he brought her to Paris back in their university days. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and he wished he could just go back to that time and do everything differently. Charlie rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, inhaling deeply. He thought that if he breathed deep enough, maybe her scent would return.

“I still can’t believe they disowned you for marrying Salimah. She’s a Cambridge-educated pediatrician, for God’s sake!” Charlie exclaimed. 

“How accomplished she was didn’t matter to them one bit. I’ll never forget what my father said to me when I told him I was marrying her with or without his blessing. He said, ‘If you don’t care about your own future, think of the children you will have with that woman. For eleven generations, the blood will never be pure.’ And that’s the last conversation I ever had with my father.”

"Unbelievable!” Charlie shook his head. “Were you surprised that he harbored those feelings?” 

“Not really. My parents have always been racist and elitist to the extreme, like so many in their crowd. Peel away the veneer of wealth and sophistication and you’ll find extremely provincial, narrow-minded people. The problem is that they all have too much money, and it’s come so easily to them that they think they’re bloody geniuses and so they are always right.” 

Charlie laughed as he took a swig of his beer. “I’m lucky, I guess—my father always told me I was an idiot who was wrong about everything.”

Astrid looked out onto the view of the peaceful cove below the terrace. “Scientists talk about how we inherit health issues from our parents through our genes, but we also inherit this entire lineage of fear and pain—generations of it. I can acknowledge whenever my mother is reacting out of this fear, but the most powerful thing I’ve realized is that I’m not responsible for her pain. I won’t make her fears mine any longer and I don’t want to pass them on to my son!”