Last week, my elder sis messaged my brother and me and our oldest sis -- who's living in Australia -- in our sibling group chat titled "The Little Lees" and made an announcement that would move share prices.
Younger brother Barry responded with a group video call without delay. Only oldest Sis Jo didn't pick up (she goes to sleep on Do Not Disturb mode).
"What are you eating again? It's 12:15am," my sis S complained.
"That should be the least of your worries," I interrupted.
Barry nodded zestfully since his mouth was full.
When he swallowed, he shouted. "WOW!"
Sis smiled then giggled like she was drunk after Prom Night.
After nearly 50 years of being a single woman (with a tumultuous dating history filled mainly with assholes and a few good men), my sis was finally proposed to.
The man is someone slightly younger but to be honest, they both look good together.
"I don't know if that's a good thing," Stanley, who knows my family well, said when I broke the news to him later.
It must mean that the man looks super old, he said, reminding me that my sis is nearly 50 (though she can definitely pass off as someone in her mid-thirties thanks to good genes).
"But Mainly Assholes and a Few Good Men sounds like a great title for my biography," my sex bunny friend said, adding "will you write it for me in future?"
And so, during one of our regular family gatherings that Saturday -- this time at Tanglin Club -- my sis broke the news to the family.
Her exact words came out without warning. "I'm getting married," she said.
Mrs Lee, ever the dramatic matriarch, set her chopsticks down and covered her mouth with her wrinkly hands in slow motion, eyes fast filling with tears.
Barry leaned over and asked "Why? The congee too spicy is it?"
Mrs Lee hit Barry away and started weeping silently into her hands.
"Orrh.... see what you did! You made mummy cry," I chimed in as I helped myself to a steaming, fluffy piece of Char Siew Pao.
Mrs Lee let out a wail which she failed to control.
A table away, a group of rowdy businessmen uncles stopped toasting one another beer and turned to look at our sobbing mum instead. One of them looked at me quizically and jerked his head upwards which I interpreted as an inquiry that meant "What did your mum eat to make her this upset?"
At a corner, another table of elegant socialite-aunty types -- complete with pearl necklaces and bird-nest hairstyles -- kept stealing secret glances at us while trying to look classy and not busybodies.
My sis, unable to stand the attention, whispered urgently: "Mummy, please stop this right this moment."
Mrs Lee let out another wail, this time, not even controlling her emotions nor volume.
Barry asked "do you think I can be excused from this table and continue eating with those uncles there?"
Sis shot him a look that Barry immediately understood that any movement from him would get him disowned and possibly disembodied.
With impeccable timing, the Tang Yun matron whom The Little Lees nickname Mamasan, strolled over and casually placed her hand over our mum and said "Aiyah, Lei Tai, mat yeh zeng dou lei gom gek dong ah? (Aiyah, Mrs Lee, what's making you so emotional?)
The emotional Mrs Lee pointed at Sis.
Sis looked at Barry and asked: "You wanted to join that table of uncles, you said?"
I took a sip of tea to wash down my second steamy, fluffy Char Siew Pao.
Sometimes, I'm amused at my own family.
One simple message, but it can take a whole 7 mins (I counted) to announce it and even then, it's not over.
To be fair, my sis' announcement does deserve to be celebrated given that she'd been dating this man whom not only she, but also all of us loved.
Tang Yun Mamasan, upon hearing the good news, joined Mrs Lee in Emo Land and started clapping, all the while saying "congratulations, congratulations, congratulations!"
Sis was mortified. This is a PR disaster and she regretted her actions on many levels.
By then, it was too late. Mamasan had help spread the word to the other servers who, over the years, have taken a liking to our dramatic mum for some reason.
One by one, elderly staff of the Chinese restaurant came over and congratulated Mrs Lee and Ms Lee as if suddenly Tang Yun had become the wedding dinner there and then.
The group of uncles collectively toasted our table. Barry raised his Chinese tea cup at them enthusiastically.
The classy tai-tais nodded in approval at our table.
My sis wanted the day to end but was very moved by everyone's gestures.
Finally, Mrs Lee spoke.
"Does Eddie know?" she asked, concerned.
Barry burst out laughing, his Chinese tea spewing into the air through his mouth.
I slow-clapped at Mrs Lee's spot-on humour.
Even Eddie, our soon-to-be brother-in-law who was watching the Lee drama unfold for the past 10 minutes couldn't help himself, and broke into a throaty peal of merry laughter.
Sis was not amused.
It was an afternoon of emotional rollercoaster ride and I think our table -- no, sorry, our mum Mrs Lee -- singlehandedly raised the raucous energy in that classy Chinese restaurant.
What followed Sis' announcement was a series of follow-up questions.
Where and when being key.
Eddie and Sis took turns to explain that they're still looking for a place. I knew Mum would secretly want a Chinese-style wedding but knowing Sis, she's the opposite.
But it was happy news nevertheless.
There would be lots to do for the couple, for the family, and of course, Mrs Lee.
She would naturally be excited. This was the first matrimonial event of the Lees, not counting our mum's own marriage.
Mrs Lee began texting in various of her group chats to spread the word.
"I"m texting the extended family first," she said, as she left a voice message in her "Fami-LEE" group made up of all our aunties and uncles.
"That's not a text, Mummy," Barry pointed out. "That's a voice message. And might I suggest you rename that group to ElderLEES."
Mrs Lee had no time for Barry's joke. Waving him away, she left another voice message in another group chat. I haven't seen our mum so animated in a while.
As Tang Yun Mamasan brought over free desserts on the house to mark this very joyous occasion, I looked from my mum to Barry, and Sis and Eddie, and felt a nice, fuzzy feeling in my tummy.
At last, Sis and Eddie are a step closer to getting married.
Just then, the table of Tai Tais walked past us. A woman who wore her hair that must be fashioned after the late-Queen of England, smiled at our table and meekly said, "Congratulations."
Sis and Eddie, both holding hands under the table, smiled and looked at each other.
That Saturday, my life felt very complete.
Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
