Personal Narrative-Humorous Wedding

The riotous laughing and deafening volume of the music had made the teacups shudder and the walls crumble. A Cantonese folk song had flashed onto the screen, and the male members occupying the room roared out the lyrics; possessed by the copious amounts of rice wine they had consumed. Like a gaggle of geese we giggled together, me situated against the corner, and the performers shamelessly going off pitch against the glare of the bright television set in the karaoke room.

The wives smiled with rapture at first, but it grew simultaneously to a chorus of laughter as each voice added to the sound inside the room, which swelled and rose to an ear splitting crescendo with the song’s climax. The husbands looked ridiculous as they exaggerated the high-pitched quivering voice of the female tenor. As the song ended, there had been a booming cheer mixed with laughter. I sighed with relief, having dodged the bullet of performing myself. However, Uncle Chau, brother to my mother, then roared for me to sing.

“I… I cannot sing.” I had stuttered in heavily accented Cantonese.

“GA YOU!” The family had shouted in unison, half drunk with excitement, and the other half literally.

I had refused as politely as I could. I had protested that I couldn’t read the Chinese characters. I had challenged for my cousin to begin first. Flabbergasted, my tongue had tried to pronounce the unfamiliar vowel sounds.

The songs had stopped; the sudden silence filled the room like a scream. The tone of disappointment echoed when my father declared, “forget about it,” followed by the awkward coughing and shuffling in the room.

I crept back to my corner as everyone else had continued to sing, their performances brimming with unnatural confidence. As the night drew longer, I sat silently reflecting on whether I should have had added my voice to the chorus of my family.

Four years