The Hustle Before The Vows

That morning, Aruna’s kitchen and garage had turned into a bustling battlefield. The fragrant aroma of freshly cooked shredded chicken with basil, the savory steam rising from kaffir lime leaves mixed into rice just lifted from an enormous steamer, and the clatter of spatulas against large woks had served as a natural alarm, waking everyone in the house as early as four in the morning.

“Rianti! Have you finished decorating the hantaran box with the stuffed chicken? Pak Budi’s pickup will be here any minute!” Bu Citra, Aruna’s mother, called out in a high-pitched voice from the dining table. Her nimble hands were busy arranging radish flowers and carved carrot decorations on a tumpeng ordered by the district office.

Rianti, Aruna’s younger sister, who had just entered her sixth semester as a Business Management student, emerged from the kitchen while tying her slightly messy hair into a ponytail. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the hem of her loose T-shirt.

“All taken care of, Bu. I’ve decorated it with a Classic Multi-Loop Bow. I’ve put it in the garage with the boxed meals, too. Once the tumpeng is ready, I’ll wrap it in cling film and add a Pull Bow Flower to the top of the rice cone. Anyway, I’ve double-checked all the decorations and done quality control for this morning’s batch according to the checklist,” she replied, throwing around technical terms that often left her mother shaking her head.

Although she was still a university student, Rianti was accustomed to helping with all sorts of tasks for Citra Ayu Catering. Whenever her class schedule wasn’t too packed, she could transform into an impromptu operations manager—organizing deliveries, calculating ingredient requirements, and making sure the supplies in their small storeroom were sufficient.

“That’s more like it. Your mother’s spending all that money on a management degree, so you’d better put it to use in my kitchen!” Mbak Rumi teased as she adjusted her hijab.

She was the next-door neighbor who had been helping with Bu Citra’s catering business for years. The middle-aged woman laughed heartily, never once slowing down as she peeled shallots at remarkable speed.

Mbak Rumi wasn’t the only one helping. Whenever orders poured in like they had that morning, several other neighborhood women would pitch in as well. In addition to helping finish the kitchen work, they earned extra income from every large order that came in.

Besides the regular orders from their loyal customers, there were two major events to cater for that day: refreshments and meals for the inauguration of the district’s Digital Park, and a Town Hall Gathering hosted by a digital startup company.

As a result, Bu Citra had brought in extra help since the previous day. Along with Mbak Rumi, four other neighbors had joined the team to handle the two orders.

Aruna came downstairs dressed neatly and ready to leave for her studio. She smiled at the sight of the morning hustle.

“Bu, Mas Bayu from the tent vendor is coming over this afternoon to measure the yard. If I haven’t made it home by then, please tell him to get started, okay? No need to wait for Danar and me,” Aruna said as she sat beside her mother. She lifted the food cover to check her favorite chicken-and-cheese sandwich and a glass of warm freshly squeezed orange juice.

“What are they measuring the yard for, Kak? Ohhh … for the wedding, right? Ooh, look at you, future bride! Already getting everything ready!” Rianti teased from the living room, where she was arranging boxes of rice meals for a nine o’clock delivery.

Mom paused what she was doing and gazed at her eldest daughter with emotion shining in her eyes.

“So you’ve decided to hold the reception at home after all? I thought you wanted to rent a hall,” she asked curiously.

Aruna finished chewing before answering.

“Yes, Bu. We’ve finally agreed to have the reception at home. Danar says it’ll feel more sacred and intimate that way, especially since we don’t want to invite too many people.”

She took a sip of her drink before continuing.

“Besides, Danar thinks that instead of spending all that money on a venue rental, we’d be better off using it to grow my studio or save it for our children’s education someday,” Aruna added, her cheeks turning slightly pink at her own mention of children.

“Ahh … he really is an ideal son-in-law. Danar thinks so far ahead!” Mom exclaimed proudly. “All right, I approve. And as for the catering, I’m ready and willing to handle the entire buffet for your wedding. You just take care of the decorations.”

“Really, Bu?” Aruna’s heart warmed at her mother’s offer.

“Of course! You can put your younger sister to work, too,” Mom replied.

Her words suddenly sparked an idea in Aruna’s mind. She turned toward Rianti, who was sitting cross-legged, spooning rice into the meal boxes she had arranged.

“Oh, right, Dek. If you don’t have any classes today, once you’ve finished helping Mom, could you calculate the estimated capacity of our yard and the street out front?”

“Sure! I’ll use a space management formula to fit as many guests as possible without making it feel cramped. Don’t worry. Leave it to a future management graduate!” Rianti declared, patting her chest with such an arrogant expression that Aruna felt like flicking her on the forehead.

“All right, I’d better get going, Bu. I want to leave early so I can come home sooner this afternoon.”

Aruna kissed the back of her mother’s hand, said goodbye to the neighbors who were still busy in the kitchen, then headed toward her car parked outside the gate, her heart light with happiness.