The Afterlife Matchmaker

For as long as Teddy could remember, they came to him—whether he liked it or not. They appeared faded, like washed-out or sun-bleached clothes, their voices never above a whisper; even when they tried to yell, it came out at a normal volume. As a kid, he found it strange at first—how all these strangers would come up to him just to speak, and how his parents and everyone else looked at him like an animal in a zoo—but one day, it clicked. Ghosts were no different from normal people. They got lonely. They had things to do, things left unsaid. But just like everyone else, they could be ignored.

Over the years, Teddy had learned a few tips and tricks to keep the ghosts at bay—to carve out a small bubble of privacy—and for that, he had to thank his superstitious parents. He was pretty sure they thought he was crazy; any parents would. He would’ve been creeped out too, if he saw a five-year-old talking to the air.

After many trips to see “spiritual” specialists in Phước Lộc Thọ, his parents started lighting incense and praying to Buddha more often at home, and Teddy noticed something: the ghosts never followed him past the front door. By wearing a Buddha or Lady Buddha around his neck, he could carry that same protection with him—a small, portable quiet—so he could work in peace. He could still hear them whisper, albeit more faintly, but that was easy enough to tune out, or, these days, drown out with music.

Teddy tried not to look at the ghost that hovered just behind her husband’s shoulder. “Dạ, một tô mì hoành thánh xá xíu, một tô hủ tiếu mì bò viên là 26 đồng chú” (One wonton noodle with char siu pork, and one rice noodle with beef meatballs is 26 dollars.)

“Ủa bây giờ tăng giá hả con?” Mr. Nguyen asked him that question last week and the week before that. His memory was slipping lately, and with his wife gone and being 73, he would need more care soon enough.

“Dạ không chú, ba mà con chưa bao giờ thay đổi giá menu.” (No uncle, my parents have never changed the menu prices) Teddy didn’t mind having this same conversation again and again, but he felt a tinge of sadness as he saw maybe 35 dollars at most in Mr. Nguyen’s wallet.

Teddy heard a faint whisper come then as Mrs. Nguyen yelled from behind her husband. When she died, her hearing was mostly gone, so she yelled everything. However, she was one of the few ghosts who didn’t push Teddy to engage with them. “Con ơi, nhắc ông mua chè chuối cho bà nha. Sắp tới đám giỗ của bà rồi.” (Honey, please tell uncle to buy me a banana dessert. It’s almost my death anniversary.)

Teddy looked at his mother then, and gestured towards the dessert with his eyes. From afar, his mother mouthed 4 dollars, a reduction in price for the normal 7. Even though his mother couldn’t hear or see ghosts, she remembered nearly everyone that passed through the doors of their restaurant. “Dạ hôm nay, má con làm chè chuối, ông có muốn không? Chỉ 4 đồng thêm.” (Sir, today, my mom made banana dessert, do you want it? It’s only 4 dollars more.”

Mrs. Nguyen flashed a toothless grin as her husband nodded his head. “A có ! Lâu lâu rồi không mua cho vỡ ông. Chắc bà sẽ mừng quá.” (Yes! I would. I haven’t bought it in so so long, I am sure my wife will be happy.)

As Mr. Nguyen handed over the cash, Teddy opened the register—but suddenly felt his mom jab an elbow into his ribs as she reached for the banana dessert. She gestured with her eyes, mouthing something quickly. Teddy glanced around to make sure no one was watching before handing Mr. Nguyen fifteen dollars in change.

Sure, they lost a bit of money, but he was on a fixed income. Every dollar counted.

Still smiling, Mr. Nguyen didn’t flinch or notice. He simply shuffled toward his usual spot in the far corner.

Teddy’s mom peered through the kitchen window and lowered her voice.

“Trời, hôm nay ông đặt hai tô nữa hả? Haiz, chắc ông quên bà mất rồi nữa. Không sao, một lát nữa tao gọi con ông ăn tô hủ tiếu.” (God, he ordered two bowls again today, didn’t he? He probably forgot his wife is gone again. That’s alright—I’ll ask his kid to eat the extra bowl later.)

Teddy slipped an earbud into his ear and turned the volume up as he took the tray from his dad. “Má, ông làm cái đó mỗi tuần luôn.” (Mom, he does that every week.)

His mom smacked the back of his head. “Tao nhắc mày mấy lần rồi, sao mày còn đeo earbud nữa? Mày bị điên hả?”(How many times have I told you? Why are you still wearing that earbud? Are you crazy?)

Teddy muttered an apology and started toward the dining area, but as he passed the familiar red-and-green calendar, he stopped.

Fuck. Was it that time of year again?

He was never good at reading the lunar calendar. He turned back.

“Má?” (Mom?)

His mom didn’t look up.

“Gì mày?” (What?)

“Ngày mai Vu Lan bắt đầu phải không?” (The Ghost Festival starts tomorrow, right?)

She turned then, squinting through her glasses.“Ừ, đúng.” (Yeah, that’s right.)

Her expression shifted.“Oh… nhớ rồi. Sắp tới một năm của cô Giang…” She paused, then waved him off. “Đem đồ ăn cho bác đi, rồi giao order này qua Happy Dental giùm tao.” (Oh… right. It’s almost Auntie Giang’s one-year anniversary… Take the food to him, then deliver this order to Happy Dental for me.)

Even though his mom didn’t show it, Teddy could tell that she missed her best friend deeply, and he remembered how much Auntie Giang’s sudden death had affected her. His parents had stood watch over her coffin for three days, like back home, and his dad told him that his mom would switch between crying and singing karaoke just to stay awake.

Auntie Giang was like a second mom to him, but louder, wilder, and more fun—the kind of aunt who somehow became a mother by accident. She was unpredictable in life, always organizing charity events or spontaneous trips to Vietnam, and even in death, she still managed to surprise him.

In his experience with Vietnamese ghosts from the community, they usually appeared to him right away, sometimes even before cremation, but strangely, Auntie Giang never did. Even when Teddy drove past her hair salon, he half expected her to be there, watching her staff and her husband closely, tapping her leopard-print heel as she criticized their technique or speed. Teddy missed her too, and he realized that he actually wouldn’t mind at all if she showed up, and that maybe, for once, he would make the effort to talk to her.

Putting on a baseball cap and sunglasses for the short trek, Teddy felt the heat of the piping hot stew brush against his arm through the plastic bag, and as he stepped outside, he found himself hoping, not for the first time, that his mom or dad would take the delivery instead. Sometimes, he wondered if they were doing this on purpose, because out of all the places they could send him, it always had to be Happy Dental. It wasn’t that he had anything against the place—he went there often enough—it was just that the thought of seeing him made his stomach tighten into a knot.

Gossip spread fast among the aunties at 99 Ranch Market or Phước Lộc Thọ, and everyone in the community knew that Auntie Giang’s son had essentially become an only child after she died. Teddy felt bad for him. At the funeral, he had led the prayers alongside the monks, poured the tea, lit the incense—roles that should have belonged to his older brother. But it wasn’t exactly easy to smuggle a candle into a state penitentiary.

Teddy wasn’t surprised by how either of them had turned out, but still, seeing Kenny so composed, drilling away at his dentistry like nothing had changed, was unsettling in its own way.

They had been close once. Their parents took turns babysitting, and between school conferences and juvenile court visits, Kenny had spent more time at Teddy’s house than his own. Now, with his mom gone, Teddy could sense the weight Kenny carried, even if he never spoke about it. He hadn’t even closed the clinic for the funeral—just went back to work right after. Teddy remembered wanting to say something to him then, but the ghosts had been too loud, too overwhelming.

It had been a while since they last spoke. The funeral was a year ago now, and bringing it up felt awkward. Bringing up the past felt even worse.

Nestled between a matcha café selling overpriced drinks and a cosmetics shop stocked with the latest Korean and Vietnamese imports, Happy Dental stood out with its mint-green signage, and Teddy took a moment to playfully poke at the plastic statue of their kawaii tooth logo. Waving hello to the girl selling boba from a cart outside the clinic, he paused to watch as little kids filed through the side entrance for their Vietnamese classes. Teddy had to give Kenny some credit—he had managed to do right by his mom and keep the cultural center running, and those were hard shoes to fill. Taking a deep breath, Teddy gave himself a moment to steady his nerves before pushing the door open, the familiar tinkling of bells greeting him.

When Kenny first opened the clinic, he had a whole list of names prepared and a clear vision for the décor, but that idea died quickly once his mom got involved. Teddy’s mom had talked about it nonstop back then, half-hoping Auntie Giang wouldn’t turn the place into an animal-print explosion, and he had to admit, she proved them all wrong. Instead, the space was done in soothing sage-green walls and earth-toned sofas with matching ottomans, the kind of place that felt more like a spa than a dental office. It was almost as if Auntie Giang had normal tastes.

Teddy felt oddly relaxed standing beneath the paper lanterns, even with the uncles and aunties glancing at him over their magazines and newspapers.

Trying to look busy as she scrolled through social media, the receptionist glanced up at Teddy and batted her lashes at him, her voice turning sweet.

“Oh hello, Teddy. You bring food for us? I go get doctor, he pay.”

Teddy felt his heart jump in his chest.

“Actually, could you just Venmo me or pay me in cash? I’ve got… um, things to do.”

She shook her head. “I don’t trust Venmo. And no cash. Only take one minute—I get doctor.”

Before Teddy could say anything else, she turned and called out at full Vietnamese volume, “Doctor Kenny! Delivery here!”

Damn it. He was here.

Teddy scratched the back of his head and pulled out his phone, pretending to scroll—anything to avoid eye contact, anything to keep the interaction as short as possible.

Then he heard it. A familiar voice.

“Oh—hey… Teddy. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Auntie Giang always used to say that Kenny had gotten the best features from both her side and her husband’s, and she made it a point to talk him up to every Vietnamese girl who crossed her path. Whenever the family went on their semi-annual trips to Vietnam, you could count on her to play matchmaker, and her ego only grew with every girl who took the bait. Teddy knew she meant well, but he still felt a little bad for Kenny, because only his mother could make him blush like that.

Kenny was taller than most, with his father’s thick, wavy hair and his mother’s warm golden undertone. There were all kinds of theories about where his sharp jawline and oval face came from, or why his eyes were such a bright chocolate brown, but Auntie Giang always insisted it was from Kenny’s grandfather. Honestly, even Teddy found him charming, especially with how easily he pulled off suspenders and more vintage looks, and looking down at his own tank top and shorts, he figured he probably looked like a bum by comparison. As Teddy held out the food, he tried not to make eye contact, fumbling through his pockets for the receipt.

Kenny cleared his throat.

“Here, let me take the bag so you can find the receipt. How are your mom and dad, by the way? I haven’t been by the restaurant this week—been busy with other things, you know?”

Teddy nodded. “They’re alright. Still working, still the same.”

As he finally pulled out the receipt, Teddy saw it—a figure at the end of the hall. He recognized her as Mrs. Tran, the woman who used to teach the advanced Vietnamese classes before she died in a car accident. She was dressed in a bright yellow áo dài, the one she must have been cremated in, and when she noticed him looking, Teddy quickly averted his gaze.

“Uh… what were you looking at, Teddy?” Kenny’s face shifted, caught somewhere between confusion and unease as he turned to glance down the hall.

Teddy thought quickly. “Oh—sorry, is that a new painting there? I thought it looked nice.”

Kenny frowned. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s been there for years. Wait… weren’t you here like six months ago for a cleaning?”

Fuck.

Teddy forced a shrug. “Must’ve not been paying attention. Your order is 103 dollars, by the way—six soups and five coffees, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Kenny handed him the money. “Keep the change. Tell your dad thanks—I see he put some extra wontons in here for me.”

Mrs. Tran now stood just outside Teddy’s bubble, watching him with quiet curiosity. He did his best not to look at her.

“I will… uh, you want to put in your dinner order now too?”

Kenny shook his head. “No, I’ll stop by later. Actually… I need to ask you a favor. Could you pass a message to your mom for me?”

“Sure.” Teddy pulled out his notepad and pen from his apron.

“My mom’s death anniversary is in three days. Could you ask her to make vegetarian food—for my dad and me, but also for the temple?” Kenny’s voice caught slightly at the end.

“Yeah, of course. No problem.” Teddy hesitated, then glanced at him. “Is your dad doing okay?”

Kenny smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in it.

“He’s been working a lot at the nail salon, interviewing new stylists. My mom was really good, and he wants to keep the clients, but… he has to find someone with the same vibe, the same skill. Anyway, I should eat and finish my last appointment, but thanks for coming by, Teddy.

Waiting until Kenny disappeared from view, Teddy turned to leave, but stopped short when he came face to face with Mrs. Tran. Out of reflex, he stepped to the side.

A beat too late, he realized what that must have looked like.

He smacked his forehead in embarrassment as the uncles and aunties stared at the empty space in front of him, and the receptionist looked at him like he was high. Tongue-tied and scrambling for an excuse, Teddy muttered something about a bug on the carpet and not wanting to step on it.

Then he slipped out into the afternoon sun.

He could feel Mrs. Tran following close behind, and a chill crept up his spine as she moved as near as she could. The Buddha pendant kept her at an arm’s length, but she still waved a hand in front of his face while Teddy hummed softly and pretended to look up at the sky.

“Ơi, mày thấy tao được phải không?” (Hey, you can see me, right?)

Mrs. Tran’s tone was sharp and stern.“Mày không biết hiếu thảo hả?”

(Don’t you know how to be filial?)

Teddy glanced around. If he didn’t respond, she would follow him all day, but if anyone heard him talking, they’d think he was crazy.

He lowered his voice to a whisper.“Dạ, con thấy cô… nhưng mà con bận. Cô thông cảm cho con nha.” (Yes, I can see you… but I’m busy. Please understand.)

“Mày vô duyên quá vậy. Tao chỉ cần mày giúp tao chút xíu thôi.”(You’re so rude. I just need a little help.)

Teddy picked up his pace. “Con nói một lần thôi—con không có thời gian giúp hết người ta. Nếu con giúp cô, thì con phải giúp hết mọi người.”

(I’ll only say this once—I don’t have time to help every ghost. If I help you, I have to help everyone.)

Mrs. Tran clicked her tongue, the exact sound every Vietnamese mother made when disappointed.“Tch. Mày mất dạy quá.”(So disrespectful.)

He knew better, but Teddy wasn’t about to let that slide.“Ai mất dạy? Con hay là cô—người cứ xin này xin kia?”(Who’s disrespectful? Me, or you—the one asking for this and that?)

Before she could say another word, Teddy held up a finger to silence her and walked back into the restaurant in a huff. His mood was already sour, and he knew it would stay that way for the rest of the day. Why couldn’t ghosts understand that just because they were dead didn’t mean there were no boundaries? He had a feeling that interaction would come back to bite him, but at least word would spread—he wasn’t someone to disrespect. If anything, they should know by now that it was up to him whether he used his gift for them or not. Just like with people, he had to be firm and not let anyone take more than they should.

His mom took one look at his face.“Sao mày look annoyed?”

“Nothing, má. I just didn’t have any coffee this morning.”

Teddy moved to make himself a cup, and through the window, he spotted Mrs. Tran standing just outside, still watching him. She could pout all she wanted—he wasn’t going to apologize.

“What did Kenny say?” his mom asked, pulling rice cakes from the steamer.

“He said thanks for the food, and he asked if you could make vegetarian dishes for Auntie Giang’s death anniversary.”

Teddy took a sip of his coffee and, when his mom turned away, subtly flipped Mrs. Tran off.

“Okay, con. I’ll call him later and ask what he wants.” His mom smacked his arm. “Coffee again? Mày không ngủ được đâu.”(You won’t be able to sleep.)

Teddy smiled.“I’ll be fine, má. I just needed a pick-me-up.”

“Tao pick mày bây giờ á. Uống cà phê hoài không tốt. Giờ ít khách, con muốn đi đâu hay tập gym thì đi đi, nhưng nhớ về trước 5 giờ làm dinner rush.”

(I’ll ‘pick’ you right now. Drinking coffee all the time isn’t good. It’s slow right now—if you want to go out or hit the gym, go. But be back before 5 for the dinner rush.)

She smiled and pinched his cheek before he could pull away.

“Okay, okay. I’ll probably go shopping or something. I’ve been meaning to get some new clothes.”

Making his way to his car, Teddy turned back to see Mrs. Tran still standing there, her face no longer angry or resentful. Maybe he had gone a little too far this time. He understood her, to an extent. After being dead for five years with no one to talk to, she must have been excited to realize he could see her, but she had never been a particularly pleasant person. Teddy hadn’t had her as a teacher himself, but everyone had heard her berating students over the smallest mistakes. Other Vietnamese teachers avoided her, and she always sat alone at restaurants and community events. Flipping her off probably wasn’t the best move, even if she was pushy and demanding, and Teddy knew he might have turned out the same if he had lived a life like hers.

Starting the engine and turning on the A/C, Teddy glanced back at Mrs. Tran again and, with a quiet sigh, motioned for her to come over. She was about his mom’s age when she died, and she didn’t have any children or family left. God, he wished it were easier to just cut ghosts off completely—it was always harder when it was someone he knew.

Mrs. Tran looked surprised, but she drifted toward him, her áo dài unmoving despite the breeze. She passed through the car door and settled into the seat beside him. Instantly, the air inside the car turned colder—at least to Teddy—and he slipped off his Buddha pendant for a moment so he could hear her more clearly.

“Tại sao mày thay đổi quyết định? Tao tưởng mày không muốn giúp tao.” Mrs. Tran crossed her arms.

(What made you change your mind? I thought you didn’t want to help me.)

Teddy gripped the steering wheel.

“Đôi khi con nhạy cảm xíu, con không thích người ta bắt buộc con làm này hay làm kìa. Nếu con muốn giúp thì con sẽ giúp. Con nhớ cô… hồi đó, con nhớ cô hay la học viên. Ai nào cũng ghét cô. Nhưng mà con nghĩ chắc cô này bị cô đơn hay bị người yêu bỏ hoang.”

(Sometimes… I’m a little sensitive, and I don’t like it when people try to force me to do things. If I want to help, I will. I remember you… back then, you used to yell at your students. Everyone hated you. But I thought maybe you were lonely, or maybe someone left you.)

Mrs. Tran smiled then, her teeth still stained with lipstick.

“Tao tưởng mày không biết về cảm xúc của tao, nhưng mà mày nói hay.”

(I didn’t think you understood my feelings, but you said it well.)

Teddy didn’t want to ask, but he had already gone too far to take it back now.

“Cô muốn con giúp cô sao?”

(How do you want me to help you?)

“Tao muốn đi về chung với ba má cô, cô muốn gặp Ông Phật. Mày có thể cúng trái cây hay bông cho tao được không. Mày cần làm 2–3 lần thôi.”

(I want to go back to my parents. I want to see Buddha. Can you offer some fruit or flowers for me? You only need to do it two or three times.)

Teddy nodded.

“Okay, nhưng mà ở 99 Ranch, cô phải nói mấy người kia đừng tới nha.”

(Okay, but at 99 Ranch, you have to tell the others to stay away.)

Initially, Teddy thought Mrs. Tran would be a hard-ass at the market, but she turned out to be good company. She didn’t talk much or try to force him into conversation as they moved through the aisles, but she offered gentle bits of advice on what to buy for her. It was nice—being able to shop in peace, without ghosts hovering at the edge of his vision. Mrs. Tran did a surprisingly good job of shooing the others away, and Teddy found himself wondering why they lingered in the first place. He recognized a few familiar faces from past trips, and maybe they just wanted to relive their routines, drifting through 99 Ranch and socializing with one another.

Much to his surprise, Mrs. Tran had a sweet tooth like him, and his cart slowly filled with Vietnamese peanut candy, tapioca cookies, and mung bean cakes. Even the fruit she chose came candied, and she smiled as Teddy followed her instructions—grab from the back, pick the softer ones, get the good dried mangoes from the Philippines. For a moment, he caught her tearing up as he reached for joss paper and offerings—paper phones, paper clothes—and as he ran his fingers over them, he wondered if any of it actually reached those who had moved on. Maybe Auntie Giang had already passed on, maybe she didn’t have unfinished business like Mrs. Tran and had already been reborn somewhere. Whether it reached them or not, Teddy could see the joy on Mrs. Tran’s face, and he found that he didn’t mind spending over a hundred dollars on a dead woman.

The drive to the Buddhist temple was short, and Teddy lugged his groceries inside as Mrs. Tran trailed behind him. Normally, he encountered spirits all the time on temple grounds, their souls lingering by the urns, waiting for family to visit, but he had always wondered why they couldn’t enter his apartment. His parents said the altar at the front door and the mirror kept wandering spirits out, and that only family could come and go. It was something he thought about often, but trying to make sense of it always left him with a headache.

After greeting the monks sweeping the grounds, Teddy made his way to the chamber where the urns were kept and bowed to the guardian of the afterlife. He lit the incense, then found Mrs. Tran’s urn and gently wiped away the layer of dust that had settled over time. Like his mother had taught him, he divided the fruit into three portions, bringing the first two to Buddha and the guardian before placing the last dish in front of Mrs. Tran’s urn.

Mrs. Tran—and the other spirits nearby—watched closely, their whispers growing louder and louder until she turned and shushed them. Teddy motioned for her to follow, and together they knelt before Buddha and bowed in respect.

Teddy slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the donation box before turning back toward the parking lot. When he did, he noticed Mrs. Tran hadn’t followed. She was still standing in front of Buddha.

She smiled at him, warm and gentle.

“You are a good boy, you know that.”

Teddy blinked, caught off guard.

“You speak English?!”

Mrs. Tran laughed and waved her hand.

“So-so, con.”

She shot a sharp glance at another spirit trying to drift closer, and it immediately backed away.

“I think I’ll stay here for a while,” she said. “Maybe I can go soon. You’ll keep your promise, right con?”

Teddy nodded.

“I promise. I’ll come next week. I hope I can see you before you go.”

Mrs. Tran wiped at her eye.

“Tomorrow is Vu Lan. Be careful, okay?”