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Between Worlds: A short story collection

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Between Worlds: A short story collection

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Content Between Worlds: A Short Story Collection
By
Jennifer Truong
This novel is submitted in fulfillment of the final project requirements for the University of
Southern California, Master of Professional Writing Program.
Approved: Date:
Faculty Acwisor
Approved: ^ ^ ' Date: ^ 0 ^______
Program Director
UMI Number: EP61500
All rights reserved
INFORMATION TO ALL USERS
The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted.
In the unlikely event that the author did not send a complete manuscript
and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if material had to be removed,
a note will indicate the deletion.
O isise ïta tio n R j b l i s t o g
UMI EP61500
Published by ProQuest LLC (2014). Copyright in the Dissertation held by the Author.
Microform Edition © ProQuest LLC.
All rights reserved. This work is protected against
unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code
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Table of Contents
Truong, 1
1. The Gifts 2
2. The Business Trip 25
3. The Graduation 37
4. A Part o f the Family 51
5. The Last Day 61
6. The Wedding 75
7. The Honeymoon 89
8. The Tet 104
9. The Stroke 116
10.The Game Show 137
11 .The Moon Festival 151
12.The Vietnam Trip 169
13.The Funeral 178
14.The Séance 189
15.The Death Anniversary 196
Truong, 2
The Gifts
Everyone was at Ba Nham’s 89^ surprise birthday party. Everyone. Ba
knew when she first saw and counted heads as she entered her third eldest’s,
Anh’s, house, but she had also known for three weeks that everyone would be
there ever since she had heard Anh tell Ba’s youngest, Dao, that even little,
rebellious Minh, Nguyet’s son, who dyed his hair blond, married and divorced
without telling anyone and tried his best to be Mi by calling himself Matt, was
coming. And if little Minh was coming that’d mean everyone was coming. Since
then, Ba had been looking through all her treasures to try and find a meaningful
gift to give to each of her grandchildren. She only wished that her husband Tuc
could still be here to join in the festivities.
Ba used to be good at giving gifts that her grandchildren liked. On her
eldest grandchild Minh’s third birthday, she had given him a fish bowl with paper
fish that she had made after Minh’s three actual golden fish had died and “gone
up the sky.” Minh would whirl his fingers in the bowl, his index finger getting
caught in the strings that held up the fish. The fish would knot up, and Ba would
have to come to the rescue and untie them all. When her second eldest Tung
turned four, she made for him a pajama set of shooting stars, with actual stars for
buttons, Tung would wear it every night until it no longer fit him anymore. For
Truong, 3
her third eldest Van’s fifth birthday, she had made him a plane out of an old coke
can. He took it wherever he went for the better part of a month. It rested on the
table beside him when he ate and slept, but otherwise it was always in his
hand zooming in the air, jet setting off from one destination to the next, from the
bedroom to the kitchen, from the park to the school. When her fourth eldest Kim
turned six, Ba had made for her a butterfly case, filled with the butterflies that she
had caught in the yard and by the lake by their house. Anh had helped her by
getting a magnifying glass to go with it. Kim had examined the case, making
notes filled with misspelled gibberish, mixing in both Vietnamese and English in
his observations: the xanh butorfly is very bigg, she’d say; or, the dots on the
butorfly look like lay-d con trung. Even little Minh once loved Ba’s gifts. On ti
Phuong’s seventh birthday, Ba had made for her a menagerie of paper animals to
play with, from high necked giraffes, to lions that opened their mouths to roar and
pigs with actual curly q tails. She made all of Phuong’s favorite animals. She
even helped make portable zoo fences and cages to help carry all the animals in.
When it came to her youngest, Mai’s ninth birthday, she had made an origami
bouquet of flowers that she painted and scented with Nham’s favorite scent,
Chanel No. 5. Mai was crazy about it. She kept the bouquet in Dao’s vase for
months and wouldn’t even let Dao use the vase for real flowers.
The children had been easier to please when they were young. ""Ba oil”
they’d cry, when they wanted something from her. Often, to quiet them, she gave
them bread and sweet milk, maraschino cherries from the jar, or ginger tea with
Truong,4
honey. When they were bored of Sesame Street, and of watching Vietnamese
dubbed soap operas with her, she’d make and give paper airplanes for the boys,
and painted paper lanterns for the girls to light up for the Moon Festival. She’d
give them cups to make rice castles with and made tin foil toy soldiers to guard it
and princesses to be guarded. When she was cooking, she’d give them the plastic
cups and pans that she didn’t need so they could play cook along with her. When
they ate, she’d give them an extra egg in their bank xeo to make their bodies
strong, and oc to keep their minds sharp.
* * * * *
Ba stared at her bare room. What did she have left to give? She glanced
around. Her bed lay in the comer of the room. To its left, her nightstand held her
old lamp, reading glasses, her handkerchief and a novel. On the opposite comer,
stood the cabinet that held all of her photos from Vietnam, her children’s wedding
pictures, her grand children’s graduation pictures, pictures from trips to places all
over the States, Canada, Mexico, Thailand, Paris. Most of them were with her
daughters Tuyet, and Dao in her later years. On top of the cabinet stood Ba’s
television set. Next to her cabinet and television set, was her closet.
She went to it and looked at all of her ao dai first. There were some tmly
beautiful pieces that Dao had ordered for her from Little Saigon in Califomia.
There was a sunset colored ao dai that had a beautifully embroidered orchid on it
Truong, 5
that bloomed like a young woman’s lips. Another gown was patterned with silken
pink cherry blossoms over a background of sky blue that looked like the trails of
Sapa in April. A third had a large beaded dragon on it with bursting flames which
looked like the Sea god that had once created Vietnam and its first hundred
children with the Air goddess.
None of these recently made gowns would fit her grandchildren now
however. Her own tummy was like a boulder compared to theirs. And she was
shorter than almost everyone, except for her Phuong. She looked further back
into her closet. There were some black silken pants that she had made for herself
to go with her ao dai. Followed by them, were her daily wear of cotton blouses in
white, beige and brown with metal snap on buttons. However, the grandchildren
would never be caught dead in those. They all preferred Mi clothing like tom
jeans and high skirts that could never keep your legs warm and shirts that ripped
in the washing machine. The Mi seemed to value clothing that looked like they
were battered and old, while the Viet cherished it when they could afford the new.
She looked further back, and that’s when she saw it.
* * * * *
The wedding ao dai hugged Nham in the incessant humidity common to
Vietnam. The dress was white, pure silk with embroidered silver flowers that
trailed from the upper reaches of her shoulder and branched downwards toward
Truong, 6
her waist line. The collar and the sleeves were lined with same silver embroidery
as the flowers and itched like rings of mosquito bites. Nevertheless, ignoring the
itching of her wrists and neck, Nham plugged her ears with her flngers as she
heard the crackling of strings of firecrackers that lined the front door. Nham’s
cousins began tossing up crimson, white, yellow and blue confetti as Tuc, the
groom, and his family could be seen coming into the clearing. Nham counted ten
cyclo drivers coming over the rickety wooden bridge above the creek. At the
head, was Tuc. Nham could feel this morning’s bowl ofpho chum in her stomach
when she saw him. They had waited for this moment for three years.
For a long time, it was a courtship of silence. Whenever Tuc entered her
home’s living room, Nham was forced to leave it as proper etiquette for any good
Vietnamese girl. Furtive greeting and parting glances were the only times the two
would ever see each other. No words, not even hello or good bye, were ever
exchanged, not out of shyness, but out of respect of the rules. A friend and
classmate of her brother Dong, 25 year old Tuc first discovered 16 year old Nham
after a visit to his friend’s home after school. He practically proposed at first
sight, using her brother as an undoubtedly awkward intermediary to Nham. With
coyness, she replied that it was “up to the parents” despite her heart’s own silent
yet eager acceptance of the proposal. Three years of love letters from Tuc passed
through her brother to Nham, of Tuc slowly gaining her brother’s, her mother’s
and her father’s tmst through humble conversations about the state of his school,
his students, as well as his family. Three years of Tuc (a beginning village
Truong, 7
teacher) trying to simply scrape enough money to wed the well off town girl,
culminated in today, their wedding.
As the cyclos arrived, Nham began to take steps from the front entrance
towards them followed by her cousins, her bridesmaids. She saw Tuc up close,
and he looked ecstatic mingled with some anxiety. His hands played with the
fringes of his ceremonial ao dai as if they itched at his wrists as well. His face
looked at the growing redness of his wrists with some concern. When he looked
up and saw her however, his face broke into a relieving smile as he took her hand
to cross the front door together followed by their parents and the rest of the
wedding entourage.
For the ceremony, two giant red candles, about two feet high and six
inches in diameter, stood guard in front of the wall adorning the ancestral photos.
An imposing brass um upheld an army of burning incense sticks that faintly
clouded the air with delicately thin streams of smoke and scents resembling a
musky cinnamon. The family gathered into the living room. To the ancestors,
they prayed:
“Dear Ancestors, please bless Tuc and Nham with happiness in their
marriage and with the birth of many healthy boys,” prayed aloud Tuc and Nham’s
parents. After a few moments of silence, the prayer ceremony ended. Nham
privately preferred having a girl, but she didn’t dare ask the ancestors for one.
She knew how important it was for Tuc to have a son to carry the family name.
Truong, 8
After the prayed ceremony ended, everyone headed out back towards the
backyard for the feast. Outside, in the backyard, Nham’s family has prepared one
last final meal to be shared with everyone. The tables and chairs were rentals
from the local restaurant in Duyen Ha. A straw roof made by the family members
hung over the table to provide an extended porch that would keep them from the
heat. Flowers from the fields were scattered on top of the roof, wilting under the
hot sun. The table contained pork meatball and squash soup, both boiled and
rôtisserie chicken, beef meatballs, and stir fried beef as well. Although the five
dishes seemed hardly enough to feed the number of people, for Tuc’s and Nham’s
family, it was a feast nonetheless.
Nham savored her first meal as a bride and wife. She knew that as soon as
dinner ended, she’d have to assume a wife’s responsibilities and help with the
cleaning of all the dishes from the guests.
Ba took the wedding ao dai and laid it on her bed. This would be a perfect
gift for Phuong. She looked at it carefully. She and Tuc would’ve been married
70 years if he had still been living today. Walking around the room, she looked
for anything of hers that she might still be able to give. She went to her cupboard
drawer, when she saw something gold gleam out from the bottom of her drawer.
She dug threw the books and photo albums to find her father’s old pocket watch.
Truong, 9
*****
Lying still on her bed, Nham listened to both Tuc’s soft snores and the
early market sellers. The air was damp and cold inside, but at least the house
protected them from the fierce winds that the sellers must endure each early
morning. The grey light penetrated through the light purple shadows that lay in
the comers of the room only an hour ago told Nham that it was time to get up for
her daily chores. Careful not to make the boards creak and wake Tuc, she rose
slowly, like the sun that makes its presence known only through the soft
increments of altering light. Her back, though stiffened after years of sleeping on
wooden boards, seemed oddly stiff this morning. Nham chalked it to the coldness
of the morning, which usually pricked soreness into her joints. Her mother-in-law
Man and father-in-law Du, were sleeping in the other room.
After dressing in her brown cotton blouse (her warmest shirt) and black
linen pants, Nham also wrapped herself into her large knitted scarf for more
protection against the cold. She grabbed her beaten basket in the kitchen and then
headed out towards the edge of the village, by the river. The light had bloomed
into a golden tint upon road ahead of her. Market sellers lined the road along the
river. Their straw baskets of fish, rice, beef, and vegetables lied in front of them.
There were always two baskets per seller, which were joined by a long pole that
the seller heaves against his back and shoulders while traveling to the market.
Truong, 10
Behind the baskets, were the little candle lanterns that the sellers used to light
their way, as well as the way of any early morning fisherman who might care to
buy food in the pre-dawn hours.
This morning Nham bought fish, chicken, bok choy, and rice for today’s
breakfast, lunch and dinner. With no refrigeration, Nham was forced to perform
this ritual of attending market every morning. She traveled further, back into the
town of Duyen Ha, to purchase some beer for her mother-in-law Man who must
have at least one drink every day at lunch. It helped her feel sleepy enough to
take her afternoon nap. Although somewhat costly, Nham always remembered to
purchase a bottle of beer for her mother-in-law. If she didn’t, then not only did
she suffer complaints of her forgetfulness, but she also had to suffer through three
extra hours of Man criticizing Nham’s housekeeping methods, and how she didn’t
deserve Tuc. The naps gave Nham some momentary reprieve, at least from the
yells.
While in her old home town of Duyen Ha, Nham wondered if she’d see
anyone of her family doing the same market shopping. Just as Nham bought a
beer from the market, she saw her cousin Thu.
“Thu! Thu! It’s me Nham!” she cried.
Thu looked around a bit, startled at the sudden shouting. Then she saw
Nham and a teary smile broke out onto her face.
“Nham, it’s so good to see you, especially now.”
“Why now?”
Truong, 11
“Quick, we must hurry to your father’s house before it is too late.”
“Why?”
“Your father is taken ill.”
“What? Why didn’t anyone send me notice?”
“It was quite sudden, and plus, we thought that with the birth of Tuyet,
that you’d be too busy.”
“How could you think I’d be too busy?”
“Quick, no time to talk. We must go.”
Thu led the way and urgently pulled at Nham’s right wrist as if she
thought that would make Nham walk faster. When they arrived into Nham’s old
house, Nham hurried into her parents’ bedroom to see her father, shriveled and
sickly, already like a corpse. As she approached the bed, she tapped him lightly
on the shoulder to make sure he was still awake.
“Father?”
“Who is that?” he asked, anxiously as if a robber had crept in.
“It’s me, Nham.”
At this his eyes opened wide and he looked at her happily.
“Oh, Nham. I thought they said you couldn’t come. I’ve been asking for
you for days. But they kept saying you were too busy.”
“Of course not. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, yes. It’s good that you are. There’s something I want to give you.
It’s somewhere here on the dresser by the bed.”
Truong, 12
“Do you want me to help look?”
“No, no, I can find it.”
He struggled to lift himself up and lean on his left elbow to look onto his
dresser. He searched the top of it to find only his morning’s bowl of chao with
the rice porridge coagulating as the water evaporated from the bowl, the morning
newspaper, and a couple of roughly tom novels. At the sight of this, his
disappointment was palpable.
“Maybe you left it in another room?”
“I know it was here!”
As he said this, he opened up the dresser drawer to find more novels on
top of more novels. And then, shoved to the side was a bright gold, gleaming
pocket watch.
“Ha, I found it. I told you it was here,” he said reproachfully.
“Oh, Father, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”
“Please, keep it. As a reminder of me when I’m not here.”
“Don’t talk like that. You’ll get better.”
“Please Nham. I know what I’m talking about.”
“Father...”
“Here it is,” he said as he gave one last urgent shove of his hand, with the
pocket watch, into hers. “Now that you’re here, I can rest. I’ve been waiting for
you and now that I’ve given what I meant to, I can sleep.”
“Wait, no. Not yet. Don’t go to sleep yet.”
Truong, 13
“Good night, Nham. My precious girl.”
While he said his good night, he rolled back onto the bed and closed his
eyes. As he slept without breathing, Nham let the tears drip down her face. With
pocket watch and this morning’s groceries in hand, she made the mournful
journey back to her home.
* * * * *
Ba picked up the golden pocket watch. She held it to her ear. There was
no sound of ticking. Opening it up, she found that the watch had long stopped
working. However, that could be remedied. She laid it gingerly aside the
wedding ao dai. She walked to her bed to rest a bit. She looked at her nightstand
re-examining the objects. Picking up her handkerchief, she examined it closely.
If she washed it of course, it just might do.
* * * * *
“Nham, stop playing with your needles! You’ll poke your eye out!” said
her mother.
“No, I won’t. I’ve been very careful,” replied Nham defiantly.
“Well, stop stabbing those poor ants then.”
“But they like it.”
Truong, 14
“Oh? So would you like it if some person stabbed you in the gut with a
giant needle?”
“Well, no.. .but I’m different.”
“Uh huh. Now do you want to leam how to embroider or not?”
“Yes Ma,” Nham said resignedly.
“Okay then.”
Nham’s mother then pulled out two handkerchiefs with some embossed
lettering on it.
“Why do we have to embroider our initials if they’re already on it. Ma?”
“Because the embossments will fade, and then you’ll just have a plain
handkerchief. And embroidering makes it look ever nicer than it does now. Now
which color thread to you want to use?”
“Red! No, green! No, blue!”
“Make up your mind little one.”
“Blue, yes, blue, like the sky!”
“All right then.”
Nham’s mother handed Nham the thread. “Now, follow my lead. Work
straight stitches closely together across the shape of the letter. Take care to keep
the edge even, and take the stitches to the outside of the embossed line to make
sure the embossed border doesn’t show.”
“Ow, I poked my finger.”
“Be careful little one.”
Truong, 15
Nham continued to sew. After a little bit of work she saw the outline of
the N of her initials fill out in airy blue. After a bit more work, she filled out the
D of her last name as well.
“Ma, I did it!” I sewed my initials!”
“Congratulations dear. You made your first piece of embroidery.”
*****
Ba took her handkerchief and laid it on the edge of the bed, next to the
pocket watch and ao dai. She lied down on the opposite end of the bed for a bit to
rest her eyes. However, no rest came to her as her mind was still racing to think
of things to give to her grandchildren. She sat up again. Her bun felt a bit loose
from lying down, so she grazed her right hand down across her ear and towards
the back of her head when she felt it. Of course, how could she have forgotten
them?
* * * * *
Nham woke up early that morning as usual to do her daily chores before
breakfast. However, she was surprised to find that Tuc had also risen from his
bed early as well. This would make getting his anniversary present from the
closet easier, at least. She opened the closet door, to go behind the shoe boxes,
Truong, 16
where a large wrapped gift laid in the comer. Inside it was a brand new shirt for
him to teach his classes in. When she entered the living room, she was even more
surprised to find Tuc standing there in the kitchen already cooking with a supply
of foods from the market.
“What time did you wake up to do all of this?” Nham asked wondrously.
“Oh, at about 4 AM.” Tuc said nonchalantly.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked coyly.
“You mean you forgot?”
“Forget what?”
“That it’s..that it’s...”
“Our anniversary?”
“ Y ou remembered ! ”
“Well, obviously, what do you think this box is for?” Nham asked as she
handed him the gift.
“Wait, just a second.”
“What for?”
“Well, obviously, I have something for you too.” Tuc replied.
As he said so, he got out a small, polished jewelry box. Nham recognized
it instantly.
“Is that from Kim Jewelry store?”
“Y es...”
Truong, 17
“You mean, that’s the exact.. .the same ones that I saw on our
honeymoon?”
“You mean, the ones you had your eyes on the whole time we were in
Hanoi? Yes, that’d be them.”
Nham excitedly opened the box to find a pair of pine green jade earrings.
“But Tuc, how could you afford these?”
“Don’t you worry about that. Put them on!”
“No, I won’t. Not until you tell me how you bought these.”
“Well, since you are so determined to spoil my fun at seeing you put on
those beautiful earrings. I’ve been putting money aside ever since the
honeymoon.”
“You’ve been putting money aside?? How could you? I just had Tuyet,
and now Anh’s getting bigger.”
“I made sure we had enough to get by.”
“Only after I scraped by at the market!”
Tuc dangled the earrings in front of her. “Come on now, the mischief is
past. We got by, didn’t we? And now you have a beautiful pair of earrings.”
“They are lovely, aren’t they?”
“Put them on.”
Nham put the earrings on, and then looked at herself in the mirror. The
green of the jade and the gold bearings brought out the amber streaks in her
walnut eyes. They were the first pieces of jewelry that she had ever owned.
Truong, 18
She’d still be happy for the rest of her life even if they were the last pieces as
well.
*****
As Ba tightened her bun, and unfastened her earrings to place with the
other keepsakes, she stared around the room again. This time she went to her
cabinet. She opened the drawer, and after a bit of searching she found it.
Battered with water marks all over the cover, she opened the small photo album.
She looked at the photos. There was one of everyone on her mother’s side of the
family, in which she was just a small baby. There was a photo of her older sister
Lien doing homework while a six year old Nham peaked through the window
waving her hand. Then she saw her brother Dong, with something in his hands, in
a photo that must’ve been seventy one years old and tears began to well up in her
eyes.
* * * * *
“Wake up! Wake up!” shouted Nham as she jumped on her brother
Dong’s bed.
“Today’s the day you said you’d show me!” she exclaimed.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll show you later.”
Truong, 19
“It’s already ten. How much later can you stay asleep?”
“Forever.” Dong groaned.
“Come on Dong. Wake up! We were supposed to go flying today!”
“Okay, okay, but we need to make it first.”
“How long will that take?”
“Not too long. Come on, we have to get the materials.”
Dong got up, much to Nham’s pleasure and began searching around the
house. He began by going into his closet and getting out an old gift box. He
opened it and took out the red tissue paper inside. After laying the tissue paper on
the table, he went to his book bag to get some glue. Then he went into the kitchen
to get some string. Dong put that aside as well and then began looking out in the
yard for some long sticks. Once he was finished, he brought all the materials onto
the living room table. Piece by piece, he began gluing the sticks together in a
diamond like formation with a cross in the middle for support. Then he tied a
lengthy piece of string to the bottom. Afterward, he glued the tissue paper onto
the back of the tied together sticks. Finally, the kite was bom.
“Yay! Now we can go fly it!”
Outside the two went. They walked to the lake across the road from their
house where they could catch some of the lake’s breezes. At first, the kite kept
crashing. It’d take some time for Dong to repair the damages. However, soon
enough the red kite began to set sail high above both Dong and Nham.
Truong, 20
“Close your eyes Nham,” Dong whispered, “Picture yourself flying high
above with the kite. Now you’re flying.”
And so Nham did. She flew high up in the sky, high above the birds, high
above the ancestors’s spirits, high above the clouds.
*****
Nham sat on the bed, puzzled about what gift she could possibly give now.
She had almost nothing left of value except the clothes on her back. She got out
her leather purse to see if she could give ti Mai some lucky money, however she
didn’t have a dime in her wallet. That’s when she began to take a closer look at
the leather bound purse.
* * * * *
“Hurry up Ma oi, it’s the Christmas shopping season! Dadeland is going
to take hours just to get a parking spot. You know how it gets this time of year.”
“I’m coming Dao, I’m coming! You know these old legs are not what
they used to be.”
Nham grabbed the old black beaded purse that she had bought from the
Golden Lion Asian Market years ago. The clasp was half ripped off from the rim
and most of the glass beads now were on the carpet instead of the purse itself.
Truong, 21
Dao stepped into the room.
“Really, you should get yourself something that actually can hold things
Ma oi. That old thing from Golden Lion has been on its last legs for awhile now.
You don’t want that thing to fall apart while you’re walking around in the mall
now, do you? What if all your money falls out?”
“This purse has been through a lot with me, thank you very much, and will
be through a lot more.” Nham replied defensively.
“If you say so. Now come on, Ma oi.”
At the mall, Dao and Nham walked hooked together so as to ford the
currents of people walking in the hallways of the mall. Several people bumped
into Nham, almost knocking her off balance completely. Dao took notice and
cursed at the people who did.
“What’s the matter with you? Can’t you see there’s an old woman
walking here? Can’t you pick on someone your own size?” she demanded.
As they walked into Burdine’s, Nham saw it. A beautiful, large leather
purse that could hold just about anything and still have room for a small child in
it. She could keep all of her medicines and her night clothes in it when she slept
over at one of her daughters’ homes. It looked sturdy too. One that could last her
years. But it looked expensive. The leather shined like a penny newly minted.
It’d probably cost her ten social security checks to afford that purse. She looked
away before Dao could catch her staring. She didn’t want Dao to get her it for
Christmas and spend too much, even as much as she wanted it.
Truong, 22
The pair of them walked around Burdine’s for awhile looking for shirts for
the boys and nice blouses for the girls. Nham didn’t know what the grandchildren
would like so she always gave the money to Dao to spend since she was always
the one with the good fashion sense in the family. After Dao picked some clothes
by some fancy American designers that Nham didn’t know, they left the mall.
That next week on Christmas morning, everyone was over at Dao’s house
opening gifts. Everyone liked their clothes, so Nham was pleased. Then when
everyone was just about off to eat, Dao came in with a large box from Burdine’s.
Everyone sat there smiling at Nham giddily.
Nham asked tentatively, “What’s this?”
Dao replied, “Open it.”
As Nham lifted the box lid open, she saw the leather shining from
underneath.
“Dao, it’s too much! You shouldn’t have spent so much.”
“It’s from the whole family, so it didn’t cost us that much.”
Nham felt tears come to her eyes. “Thank you everyone, thank you.”
At the surprise birthday party, everyone gathered to say Happy Birthday to
Ba. At the dinner table were all of Ba’s favorite foods. There was pho, bank xeo,
Truong, 23
goi cuon, and hot vit Ion. Tuyet must’ve made them since Anh couldn’t cook
Vietnamese foods. Since there wasn’t enough room to all sit in the dining table,
the adults all sat at the dining table, while the grandchildren sat in the living room.
After eating, they all surrounded Ba to give her the birthday gifts. She received
several new polyester blouses with mild patterns on them like hibiscus and ivory
polka dots. Anh got her a platinum broach, Tuyet gave her the full pirated
collection of the Vietnamese soap opera Horn Yen, Dao bought her a new silver
watch and Nguyet bought Nham a gift certificate to The Melting Pot, Nham’s
favorite American restaurant. The grandchildren’s gifts were more varied.
Phuong bought Nham an electronic massager; Kim, an ipod; Van, a cell phone;
Tung, a gift certificate to the Cheesecake Factory, Tung’s favorite restaurant; and
little Minh, a potpourri holder.
Nham didn’t quite know what to do with all of the gifts she received - at
least not the ones from her grandchildren. The electronic massager looked a bit
obscene; she had never learned how to use a computer to use the Ipod; the cell
phone was no good because she couldn’t ever hear on them; although she liked
The Cheesecake Factory, she knew it’d go to better use with Tung; and what was
she to do with a potpourri holder when she could no longer smell anything? She
was grateful for the gifts of course; however they just weren’t her. Yet, she was
too excited about giving her grandchildren her gifts to them that she quickly
forgot all about it.
Truong, 24
Lining them up from oldest to youngest, Ba handed each one their gift:
Minh, the handkerchief; Tung, the photo album; Van, the pocket watch; Kim, the
earrings; Phuong, the wedding ao dai; and Mai, the purse. They each thanked Ba
politely; however they looked just as puzzled about their gifts as she did with
theirs.
Truong, 25
The Business Trip
Dao was chasing the sun. She was on an airplane to Tokyo. This would
be her first business trip to anywhere ever. She was full of anxious dread and
wary excitement over the whole event. The company had sent her on this trip to
troubleshoot some problems with the testing kit that the company had sold to their
clients in Japan. She hoped she’d be able to figure out what the problem was.
For now, she just rested and thought of how far she had come.
*****
“May I take order?” asked Dao in her best English possible.
“YesTdlikeanorderofunagiandasalmonrollwithamisosoupplease,” said the
all too fast talking American.
“Okay dokey,” said Dao as she picked a number off the menu that was
closest to where the customer was pointing towards and wrote it down, looking as
confident as she could.
Dao and her sister Tuyet had been working as waitresses for a day at Sushi
World where Bob’s friend Mack, the owner, had hired them. They had been
eager to take the job and earn some money to pay back Nguyet for the expenses of
Truong, 26
having so many people live in her house. However, the job was proving to be
more difficult than expected. Everyone talked in English and spoke too fast. She
had only a month of English classes in the refugee camp and some catch phrases
that she had learned on TV such as Bob Barker’s “Come on down!” on The Price
is Right. She said that every night to practice her English when she was supposed
to announce dinner.
But now was different. This was real life. She had to actually write down
what the customers said also, which was another problem. She had figured out to
write down the number of the menu item, but getting the right menu item was still
a problem since she couldn’t understand what the Americans were saying. Dao
was afraid of asking the customers to speak slower because when she did, they
would just lose patience and make annoyed faces. One of them had told her to go
back to her own damn country.
Dao dropped off the order at the kitchen counter. The chef stopped her.
“Are you sure that this is the right order?” asked the chef uncertainly.
“Yes,” said Dao, equally uncertain.
“Okay, if you say so,” said the chef.
Dao looked over to Tuyet who didn’t seem to be succeeding anymore than
she was. Tuyet looked utterly in panic as she was taking down the customer’s
orders. Dao could see her scribbling down something, but she wasn’t altogether
sure if it was what the customer had actually been saying.
Truong, 27
As Tuyet finished with taking her order, she went to the counter and
passed Dao. Dao stopped her.
“What did that man say? You looked like he was going 90 miles an hour,”
spoke Dao in Vietnamese.
“I don’t know, I think that man was speaking Japanese,” said Tuyet.
Dao laughed, “But he’s American.”
“I think he was speaking it because he thought I was Japanese,” said
Tuyet.
“Nonsense. Maybe he might’ve said the Japanese names for the food, but
that’s all.”
“Well, whatever he said, I just wrote down what sounded most like it.”
Dao looked at Tuyet’s order. It read: beef stew, burger, chop suey.
Dao, getting worried for Tuyet, said, “Tuyet, I don’t think that’s what the
man ordered. These things aren’t sushi. They’re not even Japanese.”
“Well, those were the words that they sounded like!”
“Ask to take his order again. Ask him to speak slowly this time.”
“I can’t do that. They all get mad at me when I ask.”
“Well go ahead and turn the order in then. There’s not much you can do
now.”
Tuyet went ahead and turned in her order. When chef got it, he just shook
his head and went to work. When Dao’s order was ready, she came and got it. It
was a huge sushi boat filled with forty or so pieces of various sushi ranging from
Truong, 28
California rolls to octopus. The order, that even she knew was a rarity, didn’t
seem to fit the skinny American who was dining alone. Nevertheless, she carried
it to the customer apprehensively.
“What’s this? Waitress, I didn’t order this,” said the American, suddenly
slow enough to understand.
“You point this, right?” asked Dao, trying to cover her bases.
“No 1 didn’t. Let me speak with your manager. MANAGER! HELLO!
MANAGER!”
“No, please sir. I get in trouble,” said Dao practically pleading for her life
to the customer.
After several more yells, the manager, Tom, finally came over, giving Dao
a scolding look. He approached the customer, however, as pleasantly as he could
with a smile so wide it could’ve stretched back to Vietnam.
“May I help you, sir?” asked Tom.
“The waitress made the wrong order. I only ordered some unagi and a
salmon roll, but she brought me out this instead,” the customer said as he pointed
to the behemoth of a sushi boat.
The manager slapped his forehead and groaned. Then he resumed his
polite image and said, “I’m so sorry sir. I his won’t happen again. Let me take
this away and place the correct order for you. W e’ll even give it to you on the
house since we took so much of your time.”
Truong, 29
The manager stepped away with the sushi boat and called Dao and Tuyet
over. He said to them in a quiet and cold fury, “That’s it. That’s the seventh
order that you two have messed up today. This latest one that you’ve messed up,
Dao, will cost a fortune, which you are paying for with this day’s wages. As for
tomorrow, there will be no tomorrow as far as coming back to work. I’m sick and
tired of having to apologize for you. You two may give back the kimono
uniforms and leave, because you two are so fired.”
No begging came from either Tuyet or Dao. Dao knew her time was up
and refused to lower her pride any further than she had to today. Tuyet must’ve
felt the same. After they got into their regular clothes and returned the kimonos,
they walked home.
“Beef stew, burger, and chop suey,” snorted Dao. “Really, what were you
thinking?”
“I don’t know Miss Sushi Lover’s Boat, you tell me,” replied Tuyet
jokingly.
* * * * *
Dao got off the airplane and followed all the people who looked like they
knew where they were going. Mostly, this consisted of the orderly Japanese
businessmen with whom she had been seated with in the business section of the
plane. She followed them directly to the baggage claim where she successfully
Truong, 30
got all of her luggage. When she got out of the hotel, she called a taxi. It took her
some time to communicate with the driver, but finally he understood which hotel
he was to take her. Or at least, she hoped he did.
During the drive, she looked out the window and watched the city fly by.
During the stops in the city, she looked at the streets. Everything was perfect and
clean, like a Disney theme park, but eerily so. There were no trash cans or service
men to clean up any messes. Everyone seemed to wear black and walk in straight
lines. The buildings were all crammed in together and highways were formed to
bend within meters of the buildings. Each highway stacked up on top of each
other, like a city of the future. Dao half expected to see flying cars hovering
about and zooming above her.
When she got to the hotel, she checked into her room and then rested for a
bit. She checked the time: 10:00 AM. Dao had all of today to tour around the
city and get items for everyone back home.
She went to the front desk and asked for directions to the nearest tourist
shop. Once she got them, she headed out the front door of the hotel and went
looking for the shop. Along the way however, she got lost. She stopped every
person she could to find someone who spoke English.
“Excuse me, can you help me? Do you speak English?” asked Dao.
“Yes, a little,” said the young teenager that Dao had stopped.
“Can you show me where the nearest tourist shop is?” asked Dao.
Truong, 31
The girl struggled with some words, but then ultimately gave up. She
began walking instead. Dao thought the girl had abandoned her and was walking
away from her until the girl stopped and waved her hand at Dao to follow. Dao
hurried up and caught up with the girl. They walked down the block and took a
right where a cozy little shop stood.
The girl stopped at the shop and pointed inside. “You go in,” she said
simply.
“Thank you,” Dao said gratefully.
Once inside the shop, Dao found all the things she wanted to get for the
family. She found a set of lanterns for Ma to hang in her room. There was a cute,
stuffed baby penguin for Mai and Kim. A lucky, bejeweled cat with its arm
raised up for each of her sisters. A miniaturized samurai sword with a stand for
her husband Jack as well as her nephews Minh, Tung and Van. A cute, childlike
monk, in pink robes, on a polished stone for Phuong.
Dao paid for the items and left. She looked at her watch and saw that it
was noon. She debated whether or not she should asked directions to the nearest
restaurant or whether she should just eat at the hotel restaurant. She figured it’d
be easiest to just eat at the hotel instead, so she headed back.
Once at the hotel restaurant, she sat down and placed all of her things to
the side of her bench at the table. The waiter came by and handed her a menu and
left. After looking at it for a few minutes, she decided on having a sashimi plate
with some miso soup. The waiter came back to take her order.
Truong, 32
“What would you like to order Miss?” asked the waiter politely.
“Td like a sashimi plate and some miso soup, please.”
“Would you like anything to drink Miss?” asked the waiter.
“Td like a Coke please.”
“A medium cock or a large cock. Miss?” asked the waiter.
Dao wanted to laugh, but checked herself.
“A medium Coke, please,” was all she said.
* * * * *
Dao, Tuyet and Anh all sat next to each other in the classroom. The
classroom was huge, larger than any Dao had been in while in Vietnam. The
colleges in the U.S. seemed to be big and grand, just like the States. Everything
here was bigger and grander than she had ever seen back in Vietnam. Buildings
were bigger, people were bigger, even the food was bigger. Just last week, she
had a potato at Nguyet’s place that took up half of her plate! Back in Vietnam,
everyone and everything was small, from the portions to the people. She
supposed that’s just how it was in poorer countries.
People began filing into the classroom. It was the first day of class and
Dao was somewhat nervous. Although her English had improved watching TV
and taking ESL classes, she still didn’t know if she was up to college level
English yet.
Truong, 33
The professor strode into the front of the classroom. She was a short,
dumpy woman with a square jaw. Not missing a beat, she began calling
attendance.
“Mary Bailey?” she asked.
“Here,” said a lanky girl who was evidently Mary.
“Elena Cruz?”
“Here,” said a Cuban girl with long lashes.
Down the list, the professor went. Then she came to Dao and her sister’s
names.
“Ang Ming Ta?” asked the professor. A fit of giggles came from the
classroom.
“Here,” mumbled Anh.
“Day-o Ang Ta?” asked the professor. Another fit of giggles erupted.
“Day-0. Day-o. Me say Daaay-o. Daylight come and me want to go
home,” chimed in a cruel jokester.
“Here,” said Dao mortified.
“Twit Ang Ta?” asked the professor. This time laughter burst out from the
stands.
“Here,” said Tuyet, no less mortified.
It was going to be a very long four years, thought Dao miserably as class
began.
Truong, 34
* * * * *
Dao arose the next morning feeling still extremely tired. She had only
gotten about an hour of sleep. The jet lag had gotten to her. She got up and out of
bed, and got ready for work. There was supposed to be someone who would pick
her up from the hotel and take her to the lab.
She finished getting ready and waited in the hotel lobby. Shortly
thereafter, a driver came in holding a sign that read “Mrs. Dao Ta.” She waved
her hand and came to him.
“Hello,” she said.
“Sorry, no English,” said the driver.
Disappointed that she wouldn’t have anyone to talk to and have calm her
nerves on the drive over, Dao frowned a bit. The driver however, didn’t seem to
notice and simply took her to the car.
During the drive, Dao went over the possible problems that the test kit
could be having. It could have something to do with Advantage, the machine that
made the kit. Or it could be the control in the machine. Usually if something was
wrong with the control, then the range of the kit would come in with widely
varying results.
The drive ended, and Dao was helped out of the car by the driver. As she
entered the building, she was struck again by how pristine everything was. Not a
thing was out of its place. Everyone was silent and orderly, almost like drones.
Truong, 35
When she came to the front desk, the secretary seemed to be expecting
her, since she simply said “Fourth floor to the light,” to Dao before Dao had even
said anything to her. Dao took the elevator to the fourth floor and went to the
right. From there she entered a lab.
Inside, two men in white coats and slippers greeted her as they bowed,
“Hello Mrs. Ta. We’ve been expecting you. I am Mr. Yamamoto and this is Mr.
Koichi.”
They showed her the changing room where she took off her business
jacket and shoes and put on the same white coat and slippers as the men who
greeted her. Once she finished, she re-entered the lab.
“As you know, we’ve been having some troubles with the testing kit from
your company. It keeps giving very different results,” said Mr. Yamamoto
politely.
“Well, let me run a few tests then and see if the problem lies with the
machine or the control group,” responded Dao.
Dao ran a few blank tests on Advantage. The results came back with
nothing unusual. She then tested it with the control group. The test results came
back with a whopping 99% range.
“It definitely looks like it’s the control group that’s causing the problem,”
said Dao. “When was the last time you bought a new control group?” she asked
suspiciously.
“Last year,” said Mr. Koichi.
Truong, 36
“Goodness, no wonder you’re having problems. The control group needs
to be bought after every six months or it begins to break down and alter the
results.”
“We thought we could save costs if we used the same control,” said Mr.
Yamamoto.
“You can only do that so much,” said Dao.
“Thank you for your help. You may go now,” said Mr. Koichi.
After Dao removed her coat and slippers and got into her business clothes
again, she left the building feeling renewed. She had completed the
troubleshooting within a matter of hours instead of days. Now, she had the rest of
the trip to be free and explore the city. She felt like the world was in her hands to
play with. But what she most wanted to do was call home. So she did.
Truong, 37
The Graduation
Anh felt the rush of a mother’s pride when she entered the halls of
Northwestern University. She looked at a case in the hall where the first
graduating class of medical students was lined up in black and white print. Van
would now join the ranks of one of those doctors. They had worked so hard for
this that it was hard to realize that their success was becoming palpable finally.
Her daughter Kim and husband An were to her right while Van was taking
them all on a tour of Northwestern before the graduation ceremony. As they
entered the area between Harris and University Halls, they came upon a powder
white rock fountain that was spray painted with the words “Feinberg all the way”
in purple. At this spot. Van paused and looked over his shoulder conspiratorially
before speaking to his family.
“’ome med students and 1 painted this two nights ago. It’s sort of a
Northwestern tradition for graduating seniors and frats to spray the Rock,” he said
proudly in his Cuban accent. For almost as long as she could remember. Van had
adopted a Cuban accent during his years in Miami. Usually this meant his
dropping the s’ in certain words, and rolling his r’s in his English.
“1 can’t believe you actually did that,” said Kim in awe.
“Van, we didn’t raise you to be a vandal,” said An sternly.
Truong, 38
“If tradition Bo,” said Van annoyed.
“If jumping off the bridge was a tradition, would you follow it?” asked
An,
“Oh Bo oi, it’s all right. Van was just having a little fun,” said Anh
kindly, masking her minor disappointment that Van should be a kid to join the
bandwagon.
They walked to the classrooms where Van wanted them to meet his
professors. Anh looked back at the spray painted fountain. It was a once
beautiful relic, a legacy, lost to the wave of future generations, its purpose lost to
student fads and dares. She felt a little sad that her son joined in its defacing. -
As they approached one of the classrooms. Van stopped short and said,
“This was my biology professor freshman year, he’s the one who really mentored
me during my seven year program.”
When they walked in, they were greeted with a loud, “Van! What a
pleasure it is to see you. Graduating today, correct? Giving the family a little
grounds tour, eh?”
“Hello Professor Windsor. Well some student highlights. They already
are familiar with the grounds from previous visits,” Van said shyly.
“Did you show them the Rock? Some Feinberg students managed to pull
it off this year. I’m frankly a tad disappointed. I thought med school students
would be a bit wiser than to waste their time with frivolous pranks,” said
Professor Windsor.
Truong, 39
Van seemed a tad disappointed that he couldn’t confide in his professor
that he was one of the pranksters. Or perhaps the shame began to sink in because
he didn’t say anything in response beyond hanging his head down.
“There there, you have no need to look guilty Van. I know you wouldn’t
do such a thing,” said Professor Windsor kindly.
“Of course not,” said An nervously.
Anh was glad some shame had got into Van, even if it hadn’t been from
either her or An. She looked at the professor warmly, grateful that Van had found
a mentor who shared her and An’s sensibilities in some things at least.
“So, do you like what you see at Northwestern?” asked the professor
proudly.
“It’s wonderful. I hope I get to go here for med school,” said Kim clearly
in awe.
“Goodness. Two doctors in the family!” said Professor Windsor amazed.
Anh and An looked at each other with pride. They had raised their
children well.
“Well, I better start getting ready for the graduation ceremony. It was
good to see you Professor,” said Van, seemingly recovering his composure.
“It was good to see you. And it was wonderful to meet your family. Good
luck to you in your residency in Miami. And good luck to you young lady as
well. If you’re anything like your brother, Northwestern would be proud to have
you,” said Professor Windsor.
Truong, 40
At this, the whole family smiled. Anh stole a look at Van who smiled
though somewhat guiltily. They walked out of the classroom.
* * * * *
Anh could feel the baby kicking her stomach. She was sure it was telling
her that it was hungry. She was too, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Nham, Tuc, Tuyet, Ngoc, baby Tung, Dao, An and herself were all stuck on a
boat, goodness knows how far away from land. They had left their bag of food
behind accidently during their escape from Saigon. So there had been neither
food nor water for five days. The family resorted to just lying down languidly in
order to save their strength. Desperate for water or for some sort of moisture to
put on their faces while underneath the burning sun, Anh struggled for some sort
of solution. Suddenly, she had one.
“Ma oi, give me your handkerchief,” said Anh.
“Why?” asked Nham.
“I’m trying to get us water,” said Anh.
“How are you going to do that?” asked Tuyet skeptically.
“You’ll see when I get the handkerchief,” said Anh.
Nham gave her the handkerchief. Anh found a long rope hanging by the
side of the ship. At the end of it was a hook. She tied the handkerchief to the
hook and lowered it down the side of the ship.
Truong, 41
“How clever of you Anh,” said Tuc.
Anh pulled up the rope once it reached its limit. When she pulled up the
rope however, there was no handkerchief hanging onto the hook any longer.
“Not clever enough,” said Dao glumly.
Anh looked at the rest of the family. They all looked dejected at the latest
venture. Anh hung her head down in shame that her scheme didn’t go to plan.
“It’s all right dear, you tried, at least,” said An.
“You can’t drink salt water anyways,” said Tuyet, trying her best to be
reassuring.
“But we could’ve used it to moisten our faces,” said Anh, still
disappointed at herself for failing.
“Come on Anh, let’s go look for food instead,” said Dao helpfully.
“Where are we going to find food?” said Anh helplessly.
“Maybe the ship’s crew will give us some food if we beg real nice like,”
said Dao batting her eyes suggestively.
“I don’t think men will go for a 7 month pregnant woman, but I’ll try,”
said Anh, unable to stop smiling at Dao’s suggestion.
The two walked towards the hull of the ship. The crewmen looked intent
on their work. Anh was afraid if she stopped them the ship might suddenly go
awry. Dao yelled at them.
“Hey there! Do any of you kind crewmen have any food for myself and
my pregnant sister? We haven’t had any food in five days,” said Dao.
Truong, 42
“Get in line,” said one of the crewmen, “If we gave you our food, we’d
have to share with everyone on this ship.”
“Please, not even to my sister who’s 7 months pregnant?” asked Dao
pleading.
“I’m sorry, but we have little enough food as it is,” said the crewman, still
working as he talked.
“Look, we can give you some water, but that’s all,” said the crewman.
He stopped his working for a moment and went to the back room. He
came out carrying two large cups of water. They were filled to the brim and
splashed outside as he walked.
“Here, take this. It’s the best we’ve got,” he said.
Dao and Anh thanked him as they walked back. Being careful not to lose
any of their precious find, they walked slowly. However, they got lost for a bit on
their way back. They searched corridors trying to find the one their family was
in. On their way in one of the corridors, Anh spotted something. It was a bag of
instant noodles. No one was by it.
“Dao, look! A bag of instant noodles,” said Anh.
“Perfect! Now we have a meal and a drink to share with the family.”
Anh took the bag of noodles without a second thought. It wasn’t stealing
if there wasn’t anybody by it. It was already lost by some family who discarded
or abandoned it.
Truong, 43
After much looking and going down and out of the wrong corridors, they
found their family still languidly sitting. When the family saw that Dao and Anh
brought not only food but water, they rejoiced.
“Dao, Anh, how did you come by this miracle?” asked Nham.
“Well, we asked the crewman for some food, but he couldn’t give that.
However, he gave us water instead. Then we found these instant noodles lying in
a comer of a corridor with no one standing by it, so we took it for ourselves,” said
Dao.
Tuc said to them sternly, “Dao, Anh, you know we didn’t raise you to be
thieves.”
“But no one was there with the food. Bo oi,” said Anh.
“That still doesn’t change the fact that it was somebody’s, maybe some
poor family like ours,” said Tuc.
Shame began finally filling Anh, but it was not enough to stem her hunger.
Nor did it seem to stem anyone else’s.
“How will we cook it though?” asked Tuyet.
“Well, we’ll be forced to eat it uncooked since we don’t have a stove or a
pot and only a little bit of water. But I think we’re all hungry enough to do it,”
said Anh.
They broke open the bag and began breaking up the dried noodles into
little chunks for each person. They took turns handing the bag and the broken
Truong, 44
chunks over. Everyone agreed that baby Tung and Anh should get more of the
pieces since they were the ones in need of it most.
Anh ate her piece slowly, trying her best to savor the dried noodles on her
tongue. The noodles stuck to her tongue like a paste after being chewed for so
long. She had to take a small sip of the water from the crewmen to rinse it all
down. After she was finished, she didn’t really have much strength to do
anything else. The walk to the hull and back had exhausted her. She didn’t
realize it until she had sat back down with her family. Too tired to think of the
wave of uncertainty that the future held before her, Anh closed her eyes and tried
to sleep.
* * * * *
An, Kim and Anh all sat down in the M section of the indoor stadium.
They had their binoculars, cameras and ceremony programs ready and out. The
rest of the stadium was slowly filling in. Anh suspected that Van was already
with the rest of the med school students that were waiting for the ceremony to
begin so that they could start the processional. While they killed time, Anh
perused through the program to see where Van was and if there were any other
Vietnamese students graduating from Feinberg. First, she saw Van’s name. Do,
listed. Underneath his name, she saw the words “summa cum laude.” Van had
never told her that. There was a mingling of pride at her son’s success and hurt
Truong, 45
that her son shouldn’t bother to tell her such a thing. He told her about the rock
he spray painted, but not this? It didn’t seem to make sense.
She checked the name right before Van’s to make sure she’d know when
Van was going to step onto the podium next. The last name was a Dang, a
Vietnamese name. So there was at least one other Vietnamese person graduating.
She looked through the list but could find only two others, a Nguyen and a Tran.
Still, she felt proud that only after one generation, the Vietnamese were still
moving on up in the world. That was her generation’s legacy. The raising of a
generation that succeeded hers.
Anh sat underneath a mango tree with An. They were at Sebic Bay, the
Phillipines. She watched baby Tung play with some coke cans, piling them up
into a pyramid. Tuyet was watching Tung from underneath the tent. It was a tent
city here at Sebic Bay. Although the tents provide shade and shelter, the heat
collected in them all too easily — hence why she was out underneath the cool
shade of the mango tree. Her mother, father, Dao, Tuc and Ngoc were at English
classes. Anh had planned on joining them, but the baby had been kicking so hard
and the walk was so long that she didn’t feel like going to class today.
Near what felt like death, they arrived in Sebic Bay two days ago, still
starving and exhausted. It was morning, and they had arrived just in time for
Truong, 46
breakfast. Everyone got in line. When they got to the front, they loaded as much
food as possible: scrambled eggs, sausages, biscuits and gravy. All American
food, yes, but still food nonetheless. The family came to the tables with at least
three plates in their hands.
They stuffed themselves sick, literally. Three hours later, everyone had to
go to the nurse. After starving so long, their bodies had adapted to have little to
no food. The inrush of food once on the island nearly killed them.
Since then, they learned to temper their hunger. Today, Anh had only one
plate of macaroni and cheese for lunch. She didn’t care for American food. It
was too greasy and so heavy. Before her hunger outweighed her dislike, so
everything was edible and good. But now that she had time to cool down, she
found it to be all the same: all meat and fat, no vegetables, no freshness of
Vietnamese food. Still, it would do.
Now that Anh had time on her hands and sufficient food and water in her
stomach, she had time to worry as well. An was lying asleep next to her. She
tapped him hard on the shoulder with her finger nail.
“An, wake up,” she said.
Rousing out of sleep, he murmured a bit.
“AN, WAKE UP,” Anh yelled.
“What? What? I’m awake. I’m awake,” he said.
“What are we going to do when we get to America?” asked Anh.
Truong, 47
“Well we’ll stay at another refugee camp for a few months and then try to
contact your sister. Hopefully she can sponsor us out of the camp,” he said
calmly, sleepily.
“Then what?” she asked.
“We’ll stay at your sister’s,” said An.
“But we can’t stay for that long. I know my sister Nguyet’s generous and
so is her husband Bob, but we won’t be able to stay for that long,” said Anh.
“What’s your point?” asked An.
“Well, we’ll have to get jobs as soon as we get there. We need to start
saving for a house. Only problem is that we need to leam English to get a job and
to get around,” said Anh.
“Well, we can take English classes at the refugee camp,” said An.
“And what about the baby? We can’t ask Nguyet to help pay for all the
baby’s needs,” said Anh.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find jobs. I can take a custodial job or something that
doesn’t need too much English,” said An.
“What job can I take?”
“You can go back to school for now, to college and try and leam
Pharmacy again,” said An, “Look we’ve been through this before. Let’s just try
and relax now while we can.”
Anh stopped pestering her husband since he clearly wanted to go back to
sleep. But the worry wouldn’t stop. What if they couldn’t find a job in the
Truong, 48
United States? What if she wasn’t good at English? What if she failed out of
college? Would they become homeless once Nguyet said it was time for them to
go? How would they earn enough on An’s custodial pay? The questions
wouldn’t stop. Anh lay there beneath the mango tree, full of fruit, wondering how
she would provide for her husband, herself, and the new baby that was kicking
away in her stomach. She had to find a way. No matter what.
* * * * *
The music of Pomp and Circumstance began echoing in the stadium. The
ceremony was beginning. Anh looked to the back of the stadium where the
students were filing in rows of two. Van had said that he’d be in the row to the
right. Sure enough, Anh spotted Van in his row walking up towards the front of
the stadium.
“An, get a picture of Van! He’s walking up towards the stadium right
now!” said Anh excitedly.
“I’ve got him. I’ve got him,” said An as he was snapping pictures with his
35 mm camera. An, always afraid of technology, had never bothered to get a
digital one. Anh couldn’t complain since she wouldn’t know how to work one
either.
Truong, 49
Once all the students were seated, the crowd of excited parents sat down
as well. Periodic camera flashes took place in the crowds, like the brief bursts of
light from a star dying.
First the Dean of Feinberg Medical School came up. He congratulated the
students and their parents on a job well done. The speech itself seemed to take
hours, however there was nothing truly noteworthy about it. He noted that the out
of the 200 students that began as freshmen at the medical school only 50 were to
graduate this year. He congratulated the students again on making it through such
a competitive journey. With that he announced the student speaker, a “Mr. Van
Do.”
Anh was floored. Van had never told her about this either. Did he think
she wouldn’t care? Was he trying to surprise the family? She didn’t understand.
She felt proud nonetheless, but she wished she could’ve known. She would’ve
invited the whole family to come and see Van speak.
Van got up to the podium. He placed a once green scrub, now entirely
soaked in faked blood so that it looked ruby colored, hanging on a hanger in front
of the podium.
He spoke into the mike, beginning his speech with, “Dear parents, friends
and fellow graduates, today we embark on a new journey: the days of the scrub.
Hopefully, our scrubs will never become like this in front of me here. But if we
do our residencies right, we will get this.”
Truong, 50
Within a few moments, he replaced the bloodied scrub with a large white
overcoat and stethoscope. It was clean and pristine with no marks on it
whatsoever.
“We’ve been on this journey for four years now. Today, although it is a
turning point, still lays the groundwork for many more years of schooling ahead.
However, this schooling will be different. There will be no written exams. These
exams will test our nerves nonetheless and our courage to do the right thing, not
as students, but as doctors. As doctors, we need to constantly learn not just the
latest technologies, but also how to treat and respect our patients’ needs, to heal
not harm whatsoever. This is our mission, our legacy.”
A loud applause came over the crowd. A few “Yeah Van!” came from the
den of students below. Anh felt that mother’s pride filling her veins once more.
She looked at An, who was struggling to keep the tears out of his eyes. Kim was
joining the few students in yelling out Van’s name. Yes, this was Van’s legacy.
This was her legacy.
Truong, 51
A Part of the Family
Phuong built a tender nest of thoughts the night of Danny’s proposal.
With feathered delicacy, she dreamt of their future together: a small church
wedding, a small cragged house with a broken stone lined lane, a small child with
valentine fists. She had dared to hope for a proposal for almost a month now,
ever since Danny had let slip that he had gone shopping in Tiffany’s. Since the
last time Danny had gone to Tiffany’s was to buy her a silver bracelet, this time
she had hoped that it might be a ring. But, she had never allowed her dreams to
fly beyond the proposal. Then, when Danny had planned a vacation to Sarasota
with no special anniversary in sight, Phuong knew that was the time. He took her
out to Vemona at the Ritz where his hands awkwardly played with the fork and
the knife while he sliced into his steak. Phuong could hardly eat, her mind
already stuffing her with dreams to feed on. When dessert came and they brought
out the champagne, Danny brought out a small turquoise blue box. After Danny
had asked Phuong to marry him, there was an unintentional pause before she said
yes because she had been so caught up in her own day dreams of the actual
moment - whether he would lay his hands on hers, whether the ring would be the
one she saw in the Tiffany’s window, or whether he’d remember her favorite cut
at all - that when the actual moment occurred, she had not paid attention to it.
He asked her again, and once the pre-emptive cloud of euphoria cleared, she said
yes quite quickly.
Truong, 52
The next day, Phuong called all her friends high and low to tell them the
good news. Then after she had called everyone else, after being tempted to tell
strangers on the street and anyone else, she finally called her family. She dialed
the phone. It rang for what seemed like minutes. Finally, she called her mother’s
cell phone.
“Ma oi, Ba’s clogging up the line again. I’ve been trying to call you for
five minutes.”
“You know she can’t hear the line clicking dear.”
“That or she just ignores it.”
“So what are you doing calling? It’s not my birthday.”
“I have some good news for you Ma.”
“Oh? What kind of good news?”
“I’m getting married!”
“To who?”
“What do you mean to who?”
“What’s his name?”
“Danny Cunningham.”
“Sounds American.”
“He is...American, I mean.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s an architect.”
“How long has he been working?”
Truong, 53
“About 5 years. But he’s become very well respected in that short amount
of time.”
“I see.”
“What do you see?”
“I see that you’ve become engaged to an architect with no experience. Do
you need money for the wedding or something?”
“No Ma oi, I don’t need money for the wedding. Danny and I earn
enough to pay for it ourselves.”
“Well, I guess we need to have him over to meet him. He’s a part from
the family now.”
“You mean, a part o f the family now.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said...oh, nevermind.”
“Is next Saturday good?”
“Yes, next Saturday is fine.”
For the next week, Phuong built a web of worries that caught at her mind
at every turn. She worried whether the dinner would go well, whether her father
would try to size Danny up, or whether her mother would embarrassingly ask how
much Danny earned in a year. At dinner, she’d test Danny with questions and fill
him in on the answers she thought would most likely please her parents - for
instance, she thought it wise to tell him to round his salary up to another five
thousand, to say he worked in a private firm rather than his own, to mention that
Truong, 54
he went to Berkeley. She advised him on how to behave during dinner: bring a
gift with you as it was a custom to honor the host; flowers were an acceptable gift
as long as they aren’t white, which was the color of death; one never took more
than a single helping from any plate without first trying every dish offered; a
helping constituted a tablespoonful; never reach for food until rice had been
served and the host had given the signal to begin; avoid eating too much meat as it
was the most expensive part of the meal; if offered the fish head, eat it without
question - the fish head was a treat reserved for the guest of honor.
When it came time to drive down to Kendall to meet Phuong’s parents,
Phuong made sure that they would leave an extra fifteen minutes early in case
traffic hit them on Sunset Drive. However, despite their best laid plans, they hit
into traffic due to an accident involving an SUV and two other cars on Sunset and
Valencia. It took an hour and a half to drive forty blocks to Phuong’s parents’
house.
When Phuong and Danny arrived, they were already half an hour late.
Once they parked by the sycamore tree in front of the house, Danny got out the
box of chocolates that they kept in the back of the car. However, the traffic delay
and the hot Miami sun collaborated in melting a good majority of the chocolates
to look more like s’mores after they had been toasted on the fire.
As they were walking up the gravel walkway, Phuong said to Danny,
“Now remember, take your shoes off once you get into the house, and always take
the fish head!”
Truong, 55
“I know, dear. You’ve only had me prepare for this moment by
hammering it into my head about twelve thousand times this week already,” said
Danny, sounding annoyed.
Phuong didn’t take the time to laugh at Danny’s hyperbole; she just
walked on and rang the door bell. After a moment’s pause, she could hear
slippers scuffling against the tile floor inside and making a clean rubbery squeak.
Phuong’s mother answered the door.
“Hurry, come in before the mosquitoes get inside.”
Phuong and Danny were pulled in with Phuong’s mother’s dense arms.
Once inside, Danny remembered to remove his shoes straight away. At the sight
of this, Phuong’s father grunted minor approval through a flaring of his nostrils.
When Phuong’s mother saw Danny however, she tugged harshly at Phuong’s
shoulder as an obvious hint to speak to Phuong privately about something. The
tug became a pull of the shoulder as Phuong’s mother dragged her all the way into
the study room.
“What’s wrong now?” Phuong asked.
“You told me he was American.”
“And he is. He was bom and raised here in Miami, just like me.”
“He’s not American, he’s black.”
“How does that make a difference?”
“That makes a big difference! I knew you were hiding something from
me. I knew it.”
Truong, 56
“I was not hiding anything from you Ma oi. I didn’t think it’d be a big
deal.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“Why?”
“So I could be prepared.”
“For what?”
“So I knew how to treat him.”
“How to treat him??!! He should be treated the same as family.”
“Fine, if that’s what you want.”
Phuong then followed her mother back into the living room where Danny
and her father stood awkwardly. Phuong’s father was looking up and down
Danny, most likely somewhat intimidated by Danny’s six foot tall frame, while
Danny was looking awkwardly at his socks trying not to notice.
“Dinner’s been ready for half an hour since you were late. Let’s eat,”
said Phuong’s mother.
“Aren’t you going to heat it up now before serving it?” Phuong asked.
“Why heat up? Danny’s a part from the family now.” Phuong’s mother
replied icily.
Danny looked at Phuong worriedly.
“Did I do something wrong already?” whispered Danny to Phuong.
Phuong looked back reassuringly at Danny. Yet, she was still frustrated at
her mother. “You mean a part of the family Ma oi.”
Truong, 57
“That’s what I said.” Phuong’s mother curtly replied.
“Actually...” said Danny.
“Just drop it. It’s pointless arguing grammar with her,” said Phuong
clearly trying to buy her own idea that it was only semantics and not something
greater that her mother was forcefully being mistaken in.
Phuong’s mother passed the rice around the table, first giving it to
Phuong’s father not Danny. After the rice had gone around the table, Phuong’s
mother signaled that it was time to eat only by digging into her rice bowl first.
She hadn’t even handed out any of the dishes for anyone else to get a serving.
The table was a delectable cornucopia of food. There was steamed fish in
gingered and spiced soy sauce, fried sweet potato fries with fried shrimp and nuoc
mam, mung bean balls with rice and broccoli sticky paste covering them, and stir
fried beef with bok choy. When Phuong’s mother finally cut into the fish and
severed the head for the guest of honor to eat, Danny braced himself. However,
instead of handing the fish to Danny, she gave it to Phuong’s father instead, who
looked just as mildly surprised and pleased as Danny did. Phuong was in shock.
“Isn’t the fish head reserved for the guest of honor?” Phuong asked
incredulously.
“Yes, of course.” Phuong’s mother replied.
“Well, then, shouldn’t it be reserved for Danny then?”
“Danny’s not the guest of honor, he’s a part o f the family, as you say.
Since he’s a part of the family, there’s no need to treat him special.”
Truong, 58
“But.. .but.. .but...” was all Phuong could muster.
“But, but, but, nothing. Danny’s part of the family and so we don’t do
anything for family.”
“That’s not true, you treated Ba oi special for her party,” blurted out
Phuong at last.
“Ba oi is an elder and it was her 89th birthday. That’s why we treat her
special. But we don’t do anything special for young ones.”
At a loss for a response, Phuong just sat there stunned. She got what she
wanted, but not in the way she had planned. It made her livid to think that she
had been fooled by her mother one more time.
“Now do you want us to treat Danny as a part of the family, or don’t
you?”
“I do but...”
“No buts, do you or don’t you?”
“Then no more complaining. Danny, pass the catfish.”
“O f...of course,” stuttered Danny.
Danny rushed to do as was told, but in the process, spilled some of the
ginger soy sauce onto the table sheet. Phuong hurried to clean it up. Her mother
just sat there expecting the children to clean up the mess. Her father was busy
eating the fish head and was about to dig into the collar.
“I’m sorry...” Danny began to say.
Truong, 59
“You should be sorry, you just spilt soy sauce on my good table linens.
Soy sauce stains never come out. And this was an heirloom from Vietnam. ”
“Oh please, mother. You bought this from Little Saigon for under twenty
bucks. Stop giving Danny a hard time.” Phuong said.
“Still doesn’t change that soy sauce stains don’t come out.”
“Fine, mother. We’ll pay you back for the table linens.”
“How am I supposed to get new linens? News linens are all the way back
in Little Saigon, in California, not here.”
“Fine. We’ll pay for you to get nice linens over here. But don’t expect for
us to pay for an airplane ticket just so that you can buy twenty dollar linens. And
apologize to Danny for giving him a hard time.”
“Fine. I’ll take it.”
“And what else?”
“I’m sorry Danny for giving you a hard time. Even though I was just
treating you like family, like Phuong wanted.”
“But you were treating him like the worst part of the family.”
“There is no worse part of family. Family is family. You accept the good
with the bad.”
“Then accept the good of Danny with what you think is bad.”
“Fine.”
Phuong’s mother, knowing when she had gone far enough went
back into the kitchen for some che„ the red bean dessert with sweet milk in it that
Truong, 60
Phuong always liked. Instead of giving it to Phuong’s father first, she gave it to
Danny.
“I thought you were going to treat Danny like family only.” Phuong said
reproachfully.
“I am, but even if family is here, I still treat them like guests,” was
Phuong’s mother’s reply.
Phuong couldn’t help but smile broadly at the reply. Her web of worries
found themselves dispelled into the farthest comers of her mind. In its place, her
nest of thoughts rebuilt itself to include her own family as parts of its foundation.
Truong, 61
The Last Day
Tuyet rose with a dawn that was bittersweetly dim with grey knowing.
This was the last day before Tung’s wedding and her last day with Tung before he
left her home forever. Letting Tung sleep in until 8AM, Tuyet thought Tung
needed it after the past few weeks of preparations for the wedding, plus preparing
his chemistry classes for the AP exams later that spring. She got to the kitchen
and began cooking all of Tung’s favorite meals as a last feast between mother and
son. She began cooking pan fried pork with caramelized green onions and
peppers, catfish and lemongrass soup, and roasted chicken with fatly cut fries.
Starting with the catfish and lemongrass soup, Tuyet put in the chopped up
lemongrass and mint leaves into the broth, since the longer the lemongrass
stewed, the more flavorful the broth would be. Next she prepared the chicken
with herbs and then put it in the oven.
By the time she finished frying the pork and caramelizing the green
onions, Tung was already up. He walked into the kitchen.
“Morning Ma oi,” said Tung somewhat groggily.
Truong, 62
“Morning Tung,” said Tuyet cheerily, “So what do you have to do today
to prepare for your wedding?”
“Well, I just have to finish writing the name cards in calligraphy and then
I have to get the wedding favor candies and put them into the little buckets we
got. Do you want to help?”
“Of course. Is there anything else you’d like to do after that?”
“I’d like to go to Bo’s grave.”
*****
The sounds of surrender filled the air: helicopters retreated into the
distance of Saigon, while gunfire breached ever nearer. Pandemonium raged in
the streets where looters were breaking into the store windows and robbing the
closed shops while everyone else was lugging their suitcases everywhere,
desperately looking for a way out. Everyone was over at Tuyet and her husband
Ngoc’s place. Everyone consisted of Tuyet, Ngoc, baby Tung, Nham, Tuc, a very
pregnant Anh, her husband An, and Dao. They had long since released the maid
since she was desperate to go back home to her family. There was no point in
having her at the house anyways. In her panic of what was to come, she had
stopped doing anything and instead ran away to hide in the closet whenever she
thought she heard gunfire or a helicopter flying by.
Truong, 63
The family gathered around the radio listening to any sign of news. All
they heard was the radio playing “White Christmas.” It struck them as strange to
hear the Christmas song at this time of year, but they thought no more of it.
Perhaps it was the Americans’ attempt at regaining some hope, some sense of
home in this war that was so far away from it.
The phone rang suddenly. Tuyet answered.
“Hello?” said Tuyet.
“Tuyet, is Hung there with Ngoc?” asked Hung’s wife Y Sa.
“No, he isn’t. Should I leave a message with him if I do see him?”
“Yes, please. Tell him to get home at once. All the helicopters have
already left, and the boats are almost gone too,” said Y Sa.
“All right, good luck Y Sa, I hope you find him,” spoke Tuyet.
She hung up the phone, and with a worried look she spoke, ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Chet cha. It’s
time.”
Ngoc came up to her. “What’s time dear?”
“It’s time to leave! That was Hung’s wife. She said all the helicopters
have gone and almost all the boats have left too!”
Ngoc stood in shock. “But my family.. .I can’t leave them.”
Tuyet spoke to him, “We are your family now too, remember? It’s leave
now or the reeducation camps for you and ruin for us. The Viet Cong will have a
heyday with a southern Vietnamese Army lawyer.”
Ngoc seemed to slowly snap back and said, “Then let’s pack.”
Truong, 64
As quickly as they could, the family gathered everything they could. They
packed old photos, clothes, money, Nham’s golden bracelets and necklace, and
food in two satchels. However, in their hurry as they left the house, they
accidently left the bag with the food behind. They squeezed into Ngoc’s
Mercedes and drove to the harbor.
As they drove through the streets, Tuyet noticed that they were eerily
empty. Old military blockades stood unattended with wire fences completely tom
down. The stores stood dark with the windows shattered. When they reached the
harbor, it was more of the same. There was not a single soul left. What was
worse, there were no more boats in the distance.
The family drove up and down the harbor for half an hour, desperate in
their search for someone, anyone, who could get them out. After fifteen more
minutes, Ngoc said to the family, “There’s no one here. Maybe we should just
head home. We’re too late.”
Tuyet held onto her husband’s shoulder and pleaded, “Please dear, what’s
fifteen more minutes going to hurt us?”
They drove up and down the harbor a few more times when suddenly they
saw a man in white farmer’s clothing stop them in front of the car.
“Stop!” he said, “I can take you to a boat if you just pay me 300,000
Dong!”
Tuyet studied the man. She didn’t know what to make of his claims.
There were no boats in sight.
Truong, 65
“What do you think Anh, An?” asked Ngoc unsure also.
“I don’t know. I don’t see any boats,” said An.
“What do you think Dao?” asked Anh.
“I say we should go,” said Dao.
Nham interrupted, “I don’t know about that, what if he is just robbing us.
Then we’ll have no boat and no money. What do you think Tuyet?”
Tuyet looked at the man. He seemed in earnest.
“What have we got to lose if we go? If the Communists come they’ll take
everything we have anyway and worse,” said Tuyet after some thought.
“All right, let’s go then,” said Ngoc. He said to the old man in white, “All
right, take us to the boat and we’ll give you the 300,000 Dong.”
The old man directed them to a dock at the end of the harbor. There an
old raft stood. It looked barely sail worthy. Logs were loosely tied together with
entire gaps between them.
“Hurry,” the old man said, “there’s no time.”
The family went onto the boat. As soon as they thought everyone was on,
they departed the harbor. Gunshots were heard coming ever closer so everyone
ducked down to hide. Tuyet gave a parting look at the harbor, at home. She saw,
to her dismay, her mother waving and crying frantically for them to come back.
Nham must’ve waited for everyone to get on the raft first before she’d enter, only
to have the whole family forget about her.
Truong, 66
“TURN BACK! My mother is still on the dock!” yelled Tuyet
hysterically.
“We can’t turn back. It’s too dangerous,” said the old man.
“TURN BACK! ” said Tuyet as she grabbed onto the old man’s shoulder.
“You heard my wife, turn back now or we won’t pay,” said Ngoc.
The old man reluctantly turned the raft around and headed back towards
the dock. Once they arrived, there was a tearful reunion.
“Ma oi, I thought we had lost you for sure!” cried Tuyet.
“I thought I was lost to you too!” sobbed Nham.
Everyone quickly resumed their ducking onto the boat. Tuyet held young
Tung beneath her as he cried uncontrollably while Ngoc kept her underneath him.
Tuyet kept trying to hush Tung and sing him lullabies. An held Anh underneath
him to protect both her and the baby. Tuc embraced Nham as she embraced Dao.
After quite a bit of rowing on the old man’s part, they reached the large
ship that held the rest of the waiting passengers. Ngoc paid the old man. Tuc,
Ngoc and An each helped up their respective wives up the ropes hanging off the
side of the boat. Tuyet carried Tung as she struggled to climb the rope with one
hand. Dao followed Nham before Tuc began to climb. Once the men climbed up,
Tuyet looked back at the old man. He was returning back towards Saigon.
She yelled at him, “You’re not coming on the boat?”
The old man replied, “No, I have to look for more people.”
Truong, 67
Tuyet watched him leave towards her home as she left for something
completely foreign to her.
*****
Tuyet and Tung finished eating their small feast of a brunch. Then Tung
got out his name cards and calligraphy pens. Tuyet had to practice first as she had
never done calligraphy before. She wasn’t used to writing a pen at 45 degree
angle and keeping it at that exact angle through all the letter movements. There
were 80 names in all to write. She and Tung split up the names in half but since
Tung had practiced doing calligraphy for much longer than she, he went through
his list of names much faster.
“Here, let me help you with your list,” offered Tung.
“That’s all right son, I can get through mine all right. You just worry
about your list,” said Tuyet.
“I’m already done with my list,” said Tung.
“Oh. Well, I suppose you could help with mine then,” said Tuyet.
“So what do you think of Geanny?” asked Tung.
Tuyet laughed. “Isn’t it a bit late to ask me about that?”
Smiling, Tung said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
Truong, 68
“I think she’ll make you a fine wife Tung. Just remember to save up for a
house. I know it’s a bit pricey right now in Miami, but things will come down,
you’ll see.”
“I know Ma oi, I know. Thank you Ma oi for letting me stay here so long
to increase my savings,” said Tung.
“Oh, it’s no problem dear. You know I love having you at home. I hate
being alone,” said Tuyet.
“Will you be all right once I’m married?” asked Tung
“Oh, well you know, I still have your Aunt Nguyet coming over for lunch,
Ba too and your Aunt Dao. So I’ll be fine. You’ll come over and visit too,
right?” asked Tuyet.
“Of course,” Tung said.
* * * * *
“I can’t believe we’re finally moving out of Nguyet’s place. I can’t
believe it’s been two years already since we left Saigon,” said Tuyet wonderingly.
“And not a moment too soon,” said Ngoc. “I don’t think I could take
living in this house with 11 other people for much longer.”
Tuyet looked at Nguyet’s house. There were only a few boxes packed for
the move to their new home on Burt Road. The family hadn’t accumulated that
much since their stay in America. Tung was toddling about playing with Minh
Truong, 69
and baby Van, Anh’s boy outside in the yard by the lake. That was Tung’s
favorite spot. He liked watching the fish come up close to the shore and the ducks
diving underneath the water to retrieve them. They were playing with the Frisbee
that Bob had bought Minh just last week.
The house had been tight living quarters for the family. Tuyet didn’t mind
as much, being used to living in a cramped house while growing up, but she knew
Ngoc did, coming from an almost spoiled youth of living in an upper middle class
army family. She had been happy to have the company. It was like a massive
camp out with the family every night. Since there weren’t enough mattresses,
Nguyet and Bob had eventually bought air mattresses for everyone.
“All right, ready for the big move?” asked Bob
“Yep yep,” said Tuyet.
They got all of the boxes in the van. Tuyet came to the yard and picked up
Tung.
“All right Tung, it’s time to say good bye to your cousins,” said Tuyet in
Vietnamese.
“No want to leave Ma oi,” said Tung in Vietnamese.
“Don’t you want to have your own room?” asked Tuyet.
“Yes, but I’ll miss family,” said Tung.
“You’ll see them everyday still after school,” said Tuyet.
“You promise?” asked Tung.
“I promise,” said Tuyet.
Truong, 70
“Ok then. Bye bye Minh. Bye bye baby Van,” said Tung.
“Bye Tung,” said Minh happily, most likely happy to have the house more
to himself again.
They got in the van and then they drove fifteen blocks down to Burt Road.
They came to a small, one story, white house with black window frames. In front,
there was a small Poinciana tree that stood up straight like a stick with a few
green leaves dangling.
“Did you plant that?” asked Tuyet.
“Yep, I thought you’d like it. When it blossoms, it’ll be just like the trees
back in Saigon,” said Ngoc.
“It’s beautiful,” said Tuyet, clearly touched.
* * * * *
They finished the name cards soon enough. Then they went to the
supermarket to buy the candy bags for the wedding favors. Tung drove and
muttered curses while driving down Kendall.
“I hate driving down Kendall,” said Tung angrily. “It doesn’t matter what
time it is, it’s always crowded. There’s too many people in Miami now.”
“Oh Tung, you need to leam how to control your anger,” said Tuyet.
A car cut in front of Tung without signaling.
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“F-ing punk! I hate Miami people. They’re so f-ing inconsiderate,” said
Tung, apparently ignoring Tuyet’s comments.
Tuyet looked at the picture of Ngoc on Tung’s front mirror. She prayed to
him for guidance.
“Tung, stop it. It’s not good for your stress levels, and if your stress level
is high, then it’s not good for your heart. And then you’ll end up dead at a young
age just like your father,” said Tuyet pleading. “And you know how I couldn’t
take being here without you too.”
“All right Ma oi. I’ll try my best. Although I’m not promising anything,”
said Tung.
Tuyet finished her med tech shift at the South Miami Hospital and went up
to the patient ward. She walked, knowing her way around as if it were her second
home. Once in the patient ward, she passed the still hanging Christmas and New
Years decorations in red and green construction paper chains and blue and white
metallic pom poms hanging everywhere, pretending to be fireworks. She entered
one of the rooms without pausing to check who was inside: she already knew.
“Hi Dear, how are we feeling today?” she said to Ngoc who was lying in
the patient bed.
“Fine. Fine,” Ngoc said unconvincingly as he winced with pain.
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Tuyet took a look at her husband. There was a spider vein on his arm and
on his cheek. His skin had taken a sallow yellow color not unlike unripe bananas.
“How are you feeling, really?” asked Tuyet.
“I’m dying Tuyet. You know that,” said Ngoc slightly annoyed.
“I’m sorry Ngoc. I didn’t mean to.. .and you never know, they could find
you a new liver.”
“It’s all right Tuyet. And you’re right, there’s still time to find a new
liver.”
“I have good news for you today,” said Tuyet.
“Oh, what’s that?” asked Ngoc.
She got out a slip of paper. It was her first paycheck. She handed it over
proudly to Ngoc. It’d be enough to pay for the mortgage.
“Oh Tuyet, I’m so proud of you. This is wonderful news, really it is,” said
Ngoc sounding falsely lively and tired within the same breath.
Impersonating Elvis, Tuyet said, “Thank you, thank you very much.”
Ngoc laughed hard and then began coughing.
“I’m sorry Ngoc, I didn’t mean to make you cough,” said Tuyet.
“No, you made me laugh which is worth more to me during these times,”
said Ngoc sounding exhausted. “By the way,” he continued, “I forgot to say
Happy Birthday. So Happy Birthday Tuyet.”
“You remembered. Thank you Ngoc. That means everything to me,” said
Tuyet.
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“Now if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to take a nap. I feel so tired,”
said Ngoc.
“All right, Ngoc. I’ll stay here for a bit more then,” said Tuyet.
Ngoc closed his eyes. Tuyet watched him. However, he seemed oddly
still even for someone who slept. His chest was neither rising nor falling. She
felt his pulse. It had stopped.
“Nurse! Nurse!” Tuyet screamed as she got up into the cot and lied down
with him. She cradled him in her arms and held onto him as if he were her last tie
to life.
* * * * *
After buying the candies and dropping them off at home so they wouldn’t
melt in the car, Tung and Tuyet drove to the cemetery. They parked off the road
and walked right into the main lawn where Ngoc’s grave was. They came to the
spot directly without having to search for it. There was no headstone, just a
square brass plate in the ground that simply read:
Ngoc Nguyen
October 3, 1947 — January 2, 1981
Beside the plate were some red blossoms from the Poinciana tree that Ngoc had
planted inside a small brass vase that was attached to the comer of the plate.
Tung spoke first.
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“Dear Bo, I wish you could be here for my wedding tomorrow. I think
you would’ve approved of Geanny. She’s just like Ma oi in so many ways. She’s
a good woman, and I think she’ll make a good wife. I’ll do my best to provide for
her like you provided for Ma oi even when you were sick. I promise to make you
proud and become a man as good as you were.”
“That was wonderful Tung,” said Tuyet, “I’m sure Bo is listening and
approves of you. I’m sure he’s already proud of you.”
“Thanks Ma oi.”
Next, Tuyet spoke to her husband’s grave. She wanted to be poetic and
beautiful as in all those American movies, but she settled for being sincere.
“Ngoc, I wish you could see the man that your son has become. He’s just
like you in every way. He even has your anger streak. He’s been such a good son
to me just as I know he would’ve been a good son to you. Please give him your
blessing tomorrow at his wedding.”
Tuyet stood there looking at her husband’s grave thinking of his absence
of all these years. She had made it on her own and raised Tung on her own.
There was a quiet pride that she had paid off the mortgage and for Tung’s tuition
at UC Berkeley on her medical technician’s salary only. She knew wherever he
was, Ngoc would’ve been proud of both Tung and her.
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The Wedding
Nguyet woke up and felt the sag of the universe on her shoulders. Perhaps
this was what the Greek titan Atlas felt when he held the world on his shoulders.
She was to be the person who headed setting up the chairs for her nephew Tung’s
wedding on the beach later this morning - a very important job. If there were no
chairs, all the people would be left standing in the hot sun, and if all the people
were left standing in the hot sun, then they couldn’t sit down once the bride
walked down the aisle, and if no one sat down once the bride walked down the
aisle, then the ceremony could never begin, and there’d be no wedding to take
place. So yes, organizing the seats was a very important job.
There was so much to do. She had to shower, get dressed, put on makeup,
be at the beach by 7:30AM with the boys to keep the spot on the beach clear for
the ceremony, figure out a way to arrange the seating area, and then shoo away
any onlookers who came by. The nerves in her head began to curdle with stress.
She hurried to the shower and began her list of activities for the day.
* * * * *
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Speaking in Vietnamese, Nguyet’s little sister Dao spoke to her, “Oi,
Nguyet, wake up already. You’re going to be late to your own wedding!”
“I’m up! I’m up!” spoke Nguyet annoyed at Dao’s chiding.
“I wonder if American brides ever wake up this late to their own wedding.
Maybe Bob should’ve married an American bride back in A m e ric a .te a se d
Dao.
“Hush you. I’m up and I’m up on time for that matter,” said Nguyet.
Nguyet got up from her wooden bed, and looked in her closet for her
wedding ao dai. It hung in front of the rack, looking perfectly un wrinkled. She
took it out and looked at it. It was a vanilla silk, with silver threading that was
shaped into a large magnolia on the chest. Glass beading formed the center of the
flower, dangling in small strands that looked like a palpable silver firework
explosion. She put it on and then went into the living room.
“Oh good, Nguyet, you’re up. I was starting to worry,” said Nham. “It’s
almost time for the wedding, you know.”
“Is the whole family going to be there?” asked Dao.
Nham struggled for words, “W ell.. .you know, not everyone could make
it...”
“Why not? Nguyet’s the eldest in the family. You always said that
Nguyet’s wedding would be huge since the whole family had to pay their
respects.”
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Nguyet couldn’t take it anymore and said, “Dao, why don’t you just quit
being so curious. It’s not very becoming to a young lady. In fact, men find that
very unattractive in girls.”
Dao responded resentfully, “I was just asking...”
Tuc came into the living room and loudly said to Dao, “And you should
ask. Don’t worry little one, the smart men will always find a woman’s inquisitive
mind very appealing. And it’s the smart men who run the world. Now think, why
would the family not want to go to Nguyet’s wedding when she’s the oldest?”
“Tuc, stop this at once!” exclaimed Nham.
“Why? I’m encouraging our young Dao to think for herself and not to
remain meek,” said Tuc testily.
“You know very well why. Father. Please, we’ve fought enough over this.
I’m marrying the American and we’re leaving this country. He’ll provide a good
life for me. He’ll support m e.. .and you. There’s nothing shameful about this.
It’s not like I’m pregnant,” said Nguyet.
“You might as well be for the shame you’ve brought into this family. Tsk,
the eldest marrying a foreigner. An American, no less. It would’ve only been
worse if it was one of those soldiers that always knock up and then abandon the
poor Vietnamese girls here for their girlfriends at home,” said Tuc angrily.
“Bob’s different. He’s not a soldier for one. He’s a contractor and he’s
much older and much more mature than those young, rash soldiers,” said Nguyet
defensively.
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“Please, we’ve been through this a million times already. Today’s the
wedding day. There’s no changing plans now,” pleaded Nham.
For Nham’s sake, Nguyet said no more. Tuc seemed to do the same as he
walked away in a huff.
“Oh my, look at the time! It’s almost time for the wedding and we still
haven’t put makeup on you yet!” exclaimed Nham.
* * * * *
Nguyet stood alone at the beach. It was exactly 7:30 AM, and still no sign
of the rental chair company. Her nerves began to twitch again. What if the rental
company forgot? What if there was an accident and all the chairs came splaying
out onto the road which then got smashed by the oncoming traffic? What if they
never got here, then everyone would have to stand, and there’d be no ceremony
because no one could sit down once the bride walked down the aisle. What if it
was a disaster and everyone blamed her, even though it wasn’t really her fault this
time?
At 7:45 AM, the chairs finally arrived. However, there was still no sign of
Minh, her nephew Van or either Dao or Jack to help arrange the chairs. There
was no time left for waiting. She’d have to arrange all 80 chairs herself.
* * * * *
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Nguyet displayed all of little Minh’s favorite dishes on the dining table
where they would eat: chicken casserole, mashed potatoes, catfish with
lemongrass soup, and fried soft shell crabs. She waited eagerly for Minh’s big
news that he had to tell her today. Maybe he had found a girlfriend finally and
was going to introduce her next week. Perhaps he was going to get married!
Although she’d be hurt that he didn’t introduce her first, she’d be too happy about
his ending his bachelorhood to care. She looked forlornly at Bob’s picture on top
of the piano. She wished he could be here for this momentous occasion. He
would’ve been so proud.
Minh arrived half an hour later than expected. The food had already
gotten cold by then, sitting on the dining table.
“Why didn’t you just keep the food on the stove until I got here?” asked
Minh annoyed.
“I thought you would get here when you said you’d get here...” said
Nguyet meekly.
“Well, you should always be prepared,” said Minh.
“i^yhow , it only takes a few minutes to reheat in the microwave,” said
Nguyet cheerfully.
Minh sat down at the dining room table while Nguyet went to reheat the
food. She regained her excitement over the prospect of Minh’s big news. She
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knew she would love the girl who loved her son. After she was done reheating,
she brought the food and her hopes and placed it on the table.
“So what’s your big news?” asked Nguyet.
“You know, you live in too big of a house. You live here all alone. And
you’re always cleaning it. It’s too much work for a woman of your age. Mom,”
said Minh, already in an uproar over something that Nguyet had no idea over.
“I know, but it’s your father’s home. He built this home and this whole
neighborhood. It’s home for me,” said Nguyet softly.
“Maybe you should consider selling it,” said Minh.
“What does all this have to do with your big news?” asked Nguyet, getting
worried.
“I’m getting divorced Mom. And I need to borrow some money to pay for
it,” said Minh flatly.
“Don’t you need to be married already to get divorced?” asked Nguyet
crushed.
Van, Dao and Jack arrived at 8 to help set up the chairs. By that time,
Nguyet had already finished arranging a quarter of the chairs.
“Where have you been?” demanded Nguyet.
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“We’ve been helping Tung get ready and getting the flowers,” said Dao as
she carried a large display of peach roses that was to be hung on top of the
archway where Tung and Geanny were to say their vows.
“Well, you could’ve called to say so. You didn’t have to leave me here to
fend for myself,” grumbled Nguyet.
“You knew the plan last night, Nguyet. Really, where is your head?”
teased Dao.
The others helped set up the chairs. They finished soon enough. Now, all
they had to do was wait for everyone to come.
* * * * *
Nguyet finished her packing and took a long last look at her house. This
was the house that Bob built for the two of them. This was where Minh took his
first steps and was his last refuge. This was where her whole family stayed after
she sponsored them over from Vietnam. This was home.
Nham came in through the bedroom, carrying one of the last boxes still in
the house.
“Why are you looking so sad, little one? 1 thought that this was what you
wanted. You said you didn’t like living in this house alone anymore,” said Nham.
“Oh, there’s just a lot of memories here, that’s all. It’s going to be hard
leaving that sort of history behind,” said Nguyet.
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“Are you sure you want to leave little one?” asked Nham.
“I have no choice,” said Nguyet.
“Of course you have a choice. There’s always a choice little one,” said
Nham.
“No, I don’t. Minh’s in trouble. That’s why I have to sell the house. So
he can get the money,” admitted Nguyet.
Nham became alarmed, “What sort of trouble is Minh in?”
* * * * *
The wedding began once everybody had arrived — that is, everyone except
for Minh. Tung stood happily at the altar watching Geanny walk down the sandy
aisle. Geanny glowed with the promise of a new life for the two of them. When
Geanny arrived at the altar, Tung grinned like a schoolboy. Nguyet’s heart
tugged at the sight of them. What had been Minh’s wedding been like? She was
robbed from ever knowing.
“Friends, we are gathered here today for the union of Tung Nguyen and
Geanny Portes, a very important moment in their lives. In the years they have
been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured,
and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife. Who
gives this woman to be wedded to this man?” asked Jorge, Tung’s best friend and
minister.
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“I do,” said Geanny’s father, Carlos.
“I require and charge you both that if either of you know any impediment
why you may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, you confess it now.
Be assured that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God's word
allows, their marriage is not lawful,” said Jorge.
“Tung, do you take Geanny for your lawful wedded wife, to live together
after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honor,
comfort, and cherish her from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only
unto her for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” said Tung proudly.
“Geanny, do you take Tung for your lawful wedded husband, to live
together after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love,
honor, comfort, and cherish him from this day forward, forsaking all others,
keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” said Geanny crying with joy.
“At this time, Tung would like to say some words to his mother, Tuyet,”
said Jorge.
Tung stepped towards his mother, and in Vietnamese he spoke, “Ma oi, I
wish my father was here today. He cannot be, but you are here, and you’ve
always been here for me. You raised me on your own and got me through
college. You have been both mother and father to me.”
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It was too much for Nguyet. She cried for Tung, for Tuyet. She cried for
her son Minh and his failed marriage. She cried for not knowing her own son as
well as Tuyet knew Tung. She cried for herself. She cried.
Anh whispered to Nguyet during her sobbing, “Nguyet, are you all right?”
“Fm fine,” sobbed Nguyet, “It’s just so touching of Tung to say that to his
mother like that.”
Nguyet slowly stopped her sobbing and looked around. Everyone was
touched by her loud sobs and were giving her warm looks, even Tung. She felt
embarrassed and ashamed that her sobs were more about her problems than his
joy in this ceremony meant for Tung and Geanny.
Continuing with the ceremony, Jorge said to Tung, “Lord, bless this ring
that he who gives it and she who wears it may abide in your peace, and continue
in your favor until life's end, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.”
Tung followed, saying to Geanny as he placed a ring on her finger, “With
this ring I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment.”
After Tung placed the ring on Geanny’s finger, Jorge said to Geanny,
“Lord, bless this ring that she who gives it and he who wears it may abide in your
peace, and continue in your favor until life's end, through Jesus Christ our Lord,
Amen.”
Geanny, facing Tung, spoke, “With this ring I thee wed. Wear it as a
symbol of our love and commitment.”
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In so much as Tung and Geanny have consented together in holy wedlock,
and have witnessed the same before God and this company, having given and
pledged their troth, each to the other, and having declared same by the giving and
receiving of a ring, I pronounce that they are husband and wife.”
The reception was held at a small restaurant called Tuscan Steak in North
Miami Beach. It was located in a street that held bright and light art deco
buildings with square windows. Clay colored walls met with turquoise colored
doors, flamingo pink flared with yellow sun.
When Nguyet entered the restaurant, a tray filled with name cards in
Tung’s neat calligraphy sat in front of the restaurant. She picked her name card
which placed her at the family table. As she came to the tables, bright lime green
orchids with magenta centers placed on top of large black pebbles filled with
water, all inside plain glass cubes. At her seat, a miniaturized white san pail was
filled with various Hershey kisses with strips that read “Tung and Geanny.”
Everyone gradually arrived. Tuyet and Nham arrived with Tung, Geanny
and Geanny’s parents as they had to stay behind at the beach to take photos. As
mother and grandmother of the groom, they sat at the table of honor along with
Geanny’s parents. The rest of the family, including Dao, Jack, Anh and her
husband An, Van, Kim, Phuong, Phuong’s fiance Danny and Mai all sat at the
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family table. There was no sign of Minh whatsoever. Nguyet began to get
worried. Usually Minh made it to important family gatherings, even if he held
himself somewhat distant from the rest of the family.
Dinner came and still no Minh. It was served family style. The first dish
to arrive was roasted rack of lamb, followed by balsamic salmon on top of a
billowy pile of mashed potatoes. The third, large pillows of gnocchi with sharp
gorgonzola cheese sauce, came along with a plate of grilled asparagus and
artichoke with a pesto aioli. The family shoved down the food full of satisfaction
and bliss for the occasion. This should’ve been how it was for Minh, to have the
family gathered around to share in his important day. What did it say about Minh
to not even want to share it with family?
“I wonder, where’s Minh?” asked Anh, “I don’t think I saw him at the
ceremony. I thought he maybe arrived late like he usually does, but he’s not here
even for the dinner, and Minh almost never misses a meal.”
Nguyet answered feebly, “Maybe he’s getting a big gift for Tung. Or
maybe there was traffic from Fort Lauderdale. You know how traffic hour can
get heading into Miami on a Friday.”
“Probably,” said Anh giving a slightly critical look as if unconvinced, but
sounding polite to not make Nguyet worry.
The hours passed and finally it was time to give a toast to Tung and
Geanny. Jorge was about to say a speech when Minh gallantly strode in with a
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Cubano woman in a bright sequined dress so tight it could’ve been made of
spandex.
“Great. I arrived in time! I’d like to say a few words to my little cuz
Tung,” said Minh grabbing the microphone from Jorge, “To my little cuz Tung, I
wish him all the brightness, the lightness of love; the comfort of companionship;
and the wife and life I never had...at least until now. Everyone, I’d like to
introduce you to my fiancé Carlota.”
Nguyet had to cough at the last line as Minh said it. After the speech,
Minh sat down at the last open seat of the family table as if it were perfectly
natural to storm into the reception towards the end of it. Since Minh hadn’t stated
he was bringing a date, his Cubano beauty sat on his lap. Nguyet could only
imagine where he had found her. Probably at some bar or worse, some stripper’s
club. He began joking with his other younger cousins as if nothing were wrong.
The family seerned simply to accept this as this was Minh’s way to make grand
entrances and then resume life as if nothing were wrong with such flamboyances.
Nguyet couldn’t take it anymore.
“What’s wrong with you?” demanded Nguyet, “You miss the wedding
altogether, you come in late and then make big show of yourself. Don’t you have
any respect to your cousin, to your family. And who’s this girl you brought? I
bet you didn’t know her longer than five minutes.”
“Mom, quit your whining. At least I announced to everyone who I was
marrying this time. I thought you’d be happy for me.”
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“I’d be happy if you didn’t marry every hooker you met,” exclaimed
Nguyet.
“That’s it. You did not just call my fiancé a hooker!” bellowed Minh.
“Oh, I didn’t? Well, I’ll say it now, HOOKER!” screeched Nguyet.
“This is why I never tell you these things. You wonder why I never come
to you. It’s because you BITCH like this,” exclaimed Minh as he stood up and
made to leave.
Nguyet sat stunned and hurt. Her mouth disconnected from her mind.
Her heart felt so very heavy, as if a stone weighed it down into a river of grief.
She couldn’t respond as Minh grabbed his lanky Cubano beauty and walked out
the door.
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The Honeymoon
Tung felt a singular awe at reading the sign that said “Sortie.” He and
Geanny had actually made it: a trip to Paris on their honeymoon. They entered
the airport excitedly despite their exhaustion and jet lag. They followed the rest
of the crowd from the airport to the baggage claim since they couldn’t read the
rest of the signs to tell them where to go.
After they picked up their luggage and dropped it off at the hotel, they
walked five blocks to their first tourist spot: the Eiffel Tower. As they were
walking, they enjoyed the sights and the sounds of Paris: an old man watering his
flowering vines on the balcony above; a café with the alternating sharp and thick
aroma of cafe au lait; the perfectly lined parks with perfectly aligned trees and
perfectly neat gravel pathways.
When they got to the Eiffel Tower, there was along line waiting to get
elevator tickets to the top. Tung didn’t mind the wait even though he was still
somewhat tired.
“We should’ve taken a nap first,” said Geanny.
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“I know your naps; they take all day. We would’ve lost the first day to
just sleeping. Plus, we would’ve been up all night because of it,” said Tung
smiling.
Geanny whined, “But I’m tiiired. I didn’t sleep at all on the flight because
the guide says that we shouldn’t to account for jet lag. You always have to pack a
million things into the trip so we have to start the damn trip right away. And now
we have to wait in this stupid line that’s taking forever.”
“Come on, we’re almost to the front already. There’s just two people
more. If we get out now to take a nap, we’d lose all the time that we took to stand
in line,” pleaded Tung.
To their right was an old woman with red slippers selling roses. Geanny
saw this, and motioned to Tung.
Geanny pointed at the old woman, “Tung, look roses! Won’t you buy me
one for our honeymoon?”
“What are you going to do with a dozen roses in Paris? We have no vase
in the hotel room, so they’re just going to wilt and die,” said Tung annoyed,
looking away.
The man at the counter saw this exchange and waved for Geanny to come
to him. The man at the counter was grudgingly handsome with a buff build and
hair like honey. Geanny gave him a bat of her lashes and obeyed. Tung saw this
and began to feel a lace of jealousy mingled with a thread of anger. Once Geanny
came up to the man in front, he signaled for the old woman to come to him. He
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paid her for a dozen roses and gave them to Geanny. As he gave the roses to her,
he touched her hand. This was too much. She smiled coyly and came back to
Tung.
“Come on, let’s go. I’m getting tired too now,” said Tung.
“But there’s only one person left in front of us,” said Geanny, suddenly
cheery.
“I said, let’s go!” said Tung angrily.
“No, I’m staying. You’re the one who made us stay here even though I
said I was tired,” said Geanny defiantly.
“Fine, then I’ll meet you back at the hotel,” said Tung thundering off.
*****
Tung first ran around the house out pure exuberant joy when he found out
that his father, mother and he were all to take a trip to San Francisco. It would be
his first trip anywhere. Ngoc, his father, worked as a custodian for Eastern
Airlines, and as a result, got free tickets to wherever in the nation they wanted to
go. They just hadn’t been able to afford to go anywhere until now, especially
with his father having to go to the doctor so much.
That was three weeks ago. Now, Tung and his parents exited the San
Francisco Airport full of excitement over their first trip together as a family.
They took the BART to the downtown area and began their trip. The futuristic
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BART ran smoothly, like a space train almost. He watched the people come and
go in business suits, walking efficiently like robots. He wondered if some of them
were really C-3PO in disguise.
As they got off the BART, they began their trek to look for a hotel to stay
in. They went to the first one, a Hilton. When they entered inside there was a
gigantic, beautiful vase of fresh cut flowers spilling out of it, flowers that Tung
had never seen before in Miami. They were a brilliant range of purples and pinks,
reds and whites. Ba oi would love those if she had come on the trip with the
family.
Ngoc went up to the counter. Tuyet and Tung followed him.
“May I have a room please for two adults and one child?” asked Ngoc.
“Certainly. That should come to $70 dollars, sir,” said the woman behind
the counter.
Ngoc coughed at the price. “Oh you know what? I forgot that we had
made reservations somewhere else. Thank you for your time,” said Ngoc.
To Tuyet and Tung, Ngoc gruffly said, “L ef s go.”
Tung pleaded with his father, “But I like it here Bo oi. It looks fancy.”
Ngoc replied, “Thaf s exactly why we’re going.”
They walked on to the next hotel, which looked slightly plainer than the
last. It was a Marriott. The carpet was a lime green and the seats were a bright
orange. Although it was slightly cheaper, again Ngoc held the same exchange
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with the woman at the counter and had the family leave. Tung was afraid of what
hotel they would actually stay at.
They next went to a Holiday Inn. It was plainer still, but at least it was
clean. Again however, the same exchange occurred despite the lower price. Tung
began to get worried.
After looking at all the hotels, Ngoc gave up on hotels and went to motels
instead. As the quality of the hotels and motels declined, so did the area they
walked in. The cars parked on the streets looked increasingly battered. One car
had a window smashed in, and there was actually a bum sleeping inside of it. The
few houses that they passed all had black bars on their windows, even the
apartment buildings with several stories up.
They walked up and down, up and down the rolling hills of San Francisco.
Tung didn’t know if his little legs could take so much walking. Tung noticed that
his father stayed away from brand names like Motel 6 just in case it was too
pricey. Each motel became grimier and dingier than the last.
At the last one they went to, the wall paper curled back revealing the
yellowed glue and a nest of cockroaches tucked in the comer of the peeled back
wall paper. Unfortunately, this was also where Ngoc finally found a price that he
could afford on his custodial salary.
Once Ngoc paid at the counter, they went to their room to drop off their
luggage and rest a bit after the long walk around the city. When they got to their
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room, the wall paper was again peeled back, but thankfully there was no nest of
cockroaches, at least that his eyes could see.
“It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be,” said Tuyet, trying to be cheerful.
Tung half-heartedly joined in, “Yeah, it’s not so bad. Bo oi. At least
there’s a bed to sleep in.”
As his parents took a nap on one of the double beds, Tung lied down in his
double bed and began to cry quietly. Someday, when he grew up, he’d never be
this poor. Never ever again.
* * * * *
When Tung got back to the hotel, he began to feel guiltily ashamed of how
he had acted. It was their first day of the honeymoon, and he had let himself get
jealous over such a small little thing. So what if Geanny got handed roses by a
stranger? He was the one she would come home to every night for as long as they
both shall live. In theory anyway. He wanted to walked back to see Geanny
again, but he knew it would be too late. She would be up at the top of the Eiffel
Tower already and he’d be stuck in line still if he came back. What’s worse was
that he knew Geanny would be in a foul mood after his stunt and that’d they’d just
get to fighting like they usually did. He didn’t want that, not on their honeymoon
at least.
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Tung decided to go out and surprise Geanny with a picnic. He’d get some
wine, cheese, maybe some pate and bread. He’d even get her a dozen roses from
the florist. He went out of the hotel room and walked to the nearest markets to get
all the things he needed.
He started with getting some good wine. After asking several people until
he found someone who spoke English and who was actually kind enough to tell
him, he got directions to the nearest wine shop. Tung entered the wine shop
eagerly. After examining the prices and the years and where each wine came
from, he chose a moderately priced Cabernet Sauvignon. After thanking the
cashier in his bad French, where his thanks sounded more like “mercy” than
“merci,” he went on his way to the bakery.
Thankfully, unlike the wine, he knew there was a bakery and farmer’s
market by the hotel when he passed by them on the way to the Eiffel Tower.
There he could get the bread, cheese and pate. He walked to the bakery first,
signaling for a baguette. After he bought the bread, he walked to the farmer’s
market. He walked up and down the farmer’s market looking for the best valued
pate and cheese. He found a decently priced camembert, Geanny’s favorite, and
some peppery pate that would go well with it.
After that, he went to thé florist’s shop to buy some roses. The shop was
full of exotic looking flowers in graceful arrangements. There were dangling
tulips hanging out of a glass fish bowl with turquoise glass marbles in it. There
were bouquets of stephanotis, lilies of the valley, and orchids all in vases tied with
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fancifully colored ribbons of magenta, striking royal blue, and sunshine yellow.
At the back were dozens of velvety crimson roses in full bloom in square glass
/
cubes, not unlike the ones he and Geanny had used at their wedding. He selected
one cube and brought it to the front.
“Parlez vous English?” asked Tung uncertainly.
“Yes, a little,” smiled the stout and ruddy cheeked French woman from
behind the counter.
“Good. One of these please,” said Tung as he pushed forward the roses.
“That’ll be forty Euros, please sir,” said the woman.
Tung coughed at the price. “Uh, that’ll be fine. Do you take credit?”
“Yes,” said the French woman.
Tung handed his credit card. There was no going back now. Tung
wondered how many lunches he’d have to skip to pay off the forty Euros. A lot,
he imagined.
After the exchange was done, he walked back to the hotel. He stopped by
quickly at the Food Mart to get some paper plates, plastic forks and knives, but
other than that, he went straight home. When he got to the hotel room, Geanny
was there waiting for him.
“Where the heck have you been?” asked Geanny demandingly.
“Eve been out to get you a surprise. I wanted to get you a picnic so I got
some wine, cheese, bread and pate. And look, I got you a dozen roses.”
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“What am I going to do with two dozen roses? And I thought we were
going out to eat.”
“I thought you’d like a more romantic picnic instead.”
“I would’ve preferred a romantic dinner at a brasserie.”
“Oh,” said Tung deflated.
“Well, there’s no use now. We might as well eat what you bought or else
it’ll all go to waste,” said Geanny still annoyed and angry.
* * * * *
Tung and the family used the cable cars and the BART to get around to all
the places they needed to go. Although the cable cars were clean, they were old
and rickety. The BART no longer seemed as futuristic, and some of them even
seemed to have a certain dank smell and dirtied seats with black spots where gum
used to be.
Still, the sights were beautiful. The Golden Gate Bridge was an awesome
sight. They walked across it and back, taking photos in the park to the side of it.
They took a cable car down Lombard Street, and then got off it to take photos at
the bottom of the street. They went to Fisherman’s Wharf where they had real
clam chowder in an actual sourdough bread bowl. Since that was one of the few
rare cheap things in San Francisco, they ate it multiple times, for brunch and
dinner. Ngoc even took Tung to Mitchell’s Ice Cream, where they had mango ice
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cream, the best ice cream Tung had ever tasted. It was like eating the ripest of
mangoes in dessert form.
When the trip came to an end, Tung said to Ngoc and Tuyet, “That was
the best trip ever!” Despite the hardships of the first day, they had still managed
to make a good trip out of things.
“What was your favorite part of the trip?” asked Ngoc.
Tung took a moment to respond, thinking, then he said shyly, “Being with
you...and the ice cream.”
* * * * *
The next day, Tung and Geanny were still at odds with each other. Tung
was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to placate Geanny, but at the same time
annoyed that she had carried the grudge for so long. However, he reminded
himself, he had been in the wrong. He had a plan to woo Geanny back into a
good mood again, but first he had to check with her if his laundry list of plans
would be okay with her. He made sure to list all of her favorite things, namely
food, church and shopping. He didn’t mind the food and shopping, but he did
mind church. There was something so unnerving about fanatical faith, especially
in something unseen, something that was supposed to be all benevolent, but
wasn’t. However, for her sake, he’d slip it into the plans.
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‘‘Geanny, how about a romantic boat ride on the Bateaux-Mouches down
the Seine River where weTl dine and have a pleasant lunch on the boat? Then,
how about we walk down the Seine to the Notre Dame and then walk to La
Basilisque du Sacre Coeur and walk around the rest of Montmartre to shop? And
after that, have dinner at some cozy little brasserie in the Latin Quarter?”
Geanny, smiling a bit, responded, “All right, weTl see.”
That was the best he could’ve hoped to get out of her.
* * * * *
Tung sat on the porch, just outside the rec room, on Ba Nham’s lap as she
barbequed skewers of chicken and pork on the portable barbeque pot that she had.
Tung looked inside the rec room where he could see his father’s altar. There was
a picture of Ngoc in his youth. In front of it, there was a rice bowl with some
uncooked rice in it, holding up a stick of freshly lit incense. There was also a
bowl of yellow xoi, sweet rice, that was placed as a food offering to his father.
He wondered what kind of God would demand to take food from poor people. He
wondered what kind of God would take life, take anything at all from the people
he supposedly loved. There was something too cruel in it, something almost
inhuman. If God could do anything, why did he have to take a person’s life
away?
Tung heard a plane soar overhead. He looked up and pointed to it.
In Vietnamese he spoke to Ba, “Look Ba oi, a plane!”
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Ba responded, “I know. You know we rode on one of those to get here
from the Philippines. And you rode on one just recently didn’t you?”
Tung responded, “Yep yep.” Then he looked at her sadly and said, “But I
won’t be able to go on them anymore.”
* * * * *
They went on the Bateaux-Mouches down the Seine River, where they had
a three course meal. The staff served a rather plain salad with vinaigrette
dressing. Duck a la orange, cheese and oddly enough. Baked Alaska for dessert.
The boat was clearly geared toured the American tourists. Tung had hoped for
some real Crème brûlée or maybe some actual French pastries would be served
for dessert. The Baked Alaska was fine, but it felt like something he’d be served
on an Alaskan Cruise, not something he’d get for a romantic French boat ride
down the Seine. Still, the ride and the meal were pleasant enough. Geanny
couldn’t stop taking pictures while the boat was passing by the Eiffel Tower and
the Notre Dame. She stopped so many time to take photos of passing statues and
bridges that her food eventually got too cold to eat. It was cute though, Tung
thought.
After the boat ride, they walked to the Notre Dame where they took more
photos, this time with each other in them. Geanny enjoyed looking at the
cathedral more than Tung. Tung had never felt comfortable in churches. There
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was so much faith placed in a person you couldn’t see, a person who took away
life just as much as he gave it.
“Are you ready to go yet?” asked Tung.
“Just a minute, I want to take a photo of the gargoyle to the side of the
church,” said Geanny.
“Okay, you’ve taken it, now can we go?” asked Tung.
“Can’t we go inside the cathedral?” asked Geanny.
“Come on, you know I don’t like it inside of those places,” said Tung.
“What are you afraid God’s going to strike you dead?” asked Geanny
jokingly.
“No, it’s just I don’t care for churches. I don’t care for the people who fan
themselves over a God who only harms them.”
Geanny, hurt, said, “I care for God. Are you saying you don’t care for
me?”
“You know what I mean. And of course I care for you, I married you after
all.”
“Oh you just think that all religious people are idiots, that’s what you’re
saying,” said Geanny getting angry.
“No, no, not at all. Look, to each his own.”
“Oh no, not that to each his own shit. You’re just trying to scramble out
of an argument,” said Geanny getting ready for a fight again.
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“Look, Tm sorry I said anything. We can go in the church if you like,”
said Tung attempt to appease her.
“Good,” said Geanny, glad to have her way.
They walked into the Notre Dame. It was large and dark, like a well
sculpted cave. Geanny seemed to be in awe of the place. They walked around
slowly, Geanny observing each piece of architecture with her eyes. Tung saw the
wonder in her and couldn’t help but have some of it rub off on him. Not about
God, but that man had built this place in such reverent love and worship of
something. When they came to the altar to light candles for the dead, she lit one.
After that they exited the cathedral.
“Who’d you light the candle for in the cathedral?” asked Tung curiously.
“Your dad,” said Geanny simply.
“But you didn’t even know my dad,” laughed Tung.
“I know, but since you don’t pray for him, I did. I pray for you too.”
“You don’t have to do that,” said Tung getting uncomfortable.
“Look, I know why you don’t like churches. I understand. I really do.
But someday you’re going to see that God gives so much more than what he
takes. And. when that day comes. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Look Geanny, I know where you’re going. I thought you were okay with
my not being religious. You know I’m not one to get converted.”
“I know. I’m just saying. I know that this sort of thing has to be your own
journey.”
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With that Geanny walked on towards the avenue towards Montmartre.
The aspen trees lined the avenue, the breeze gently shaking their leaves and
making them glimmer like green gold in the sun. Love and wonder filled Tung,
not for God, but for his wife, for her patience to wait for something that might
never happen, for her faith in something invisible.
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The Tet
Nham watched the window, the blinds half-raised, to see the Royal
Poinciana tree be shaken by the wind and gently shower silken rags of red petals.
On top of the tree, there was a pair of palm green parrots, most likely escaped
from the zoo during the last hurricane. She watched as they pecked and necked
with the diligence of newlyweds on their first morning before going back to work.
She took this moment to soothe her stressed mind about the storm of plans
she had laid ahead of her for the Lunar New Year or Tet celebrations. Firstly,
there were the dried persimmons to buy and hydrate in water. The lucky money
she was to put in the red envelopes. And most importantly, the food. Fried
summer rolls for appetizer. Floured shrimp fried in chili oil with bell peppers.
Catfish soup. Fried soft shell crabs with onion and basil. Sweet ground beef
wrapped in grape leaves. All of her grandchildren’s favorites. She didn’t know if
Minh would show up after the incident at Tung’s wedding, but she cooked for
him anyways. For him, she would lay aside a special plate of chicken curry with
extra potatoes just for him. Not her most intricate dish, but one of Minh’s
favorites.
Looking down at her wrist, Nham’s watch read 4:15 AM, which couldn’t
be right. The light outside was closer to mid-moming. She went to the kitchen
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and checked the microwave’s clock - 9:20 AM. Annoyed that her watch had run
out of batteries, she added one more chore to the list that she had to do that week.
Since Dao had already left for work, that left Nham at home alone to walk
the 15 blocks to the Golden Lion Asian supermarket to buy all the food. The
walk alone would take her at least an hour. She could not waste a minute more.
Nham hurried to the garage to get Mai’s old baby carriage that she would use to
cart all her groceries home and then went out the front door to begin her long
walk.
Nham walked down Kendall Road, empty baby carriage and all, down to
the Golden Lion. She passed Nguyet’s muddy orange condo building, gated
behind a thin grove of poplars. Nguy et would still be at home now. She didn’t
leave until noon to go to work at the Baptist private school where she taught pre
schoolers. With some luck, Nham just might be able to convince Nguyet to drive
her to the market.
Nham walked to the gate speaker and pressed Nguyet’s condo number.
Answering with a hello that was more of a shouting than a greeting, Nham
replied, “It’s me, let me in.” The phone buzzed with a click and the gate slowly
moved back to let Nham enter.
Once at the door, Nham knocked loudly. As if Ihe last moment’s
conversation hadn’t registered yet, Nguyet asked suspiciously, “Who’s there?”
Nham, getting frustrated, answered, “Who else?” The door opened.
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Nham entered the condo, leaving the baby carriage in the hallway. The
small condo always looked even smaller with the dusky yellow paint that Nguyet
had selected. She looked at the cramped condo. Vestiges of her former home
were cramped into this tiny place. No one knew why Nguyet had suddenly sold
her four bedroom home that her husband Bob had built her. They just knew that
she had done so within a blink of an eye.
“Sorry Ma oi. I’m so stupid. I was watching that American journalist
lady’s show with the other American women that talk for the whole hour, that I
forgot you called to come in. Something’s wrong with my head. I’m so stupid.”
“Now now, Nguyet, don’t be too hard on yourself. You just forgot is all.”
“So how are you Ma oi? What brings you here? Why did you bring Mai’s
old baby carriage?”
“Well, I was going to go to the Golden Lion, and I just thought you might
like to come. Do you think you could drive me possibly?”
“I don’t know Ma o i.. .It’s high traffic time on Kendall right now. And
you know how I hate driving in traffic. All those cars so close together makes me
nervous.”
Nham should’ve known better. Getting Nguyet to drive anywhere was
near impossible. She almost always took the metro or the bus these days. A near
accident had caused a near collapse of all courage to drive again.
“Come now, Nguyet, it’s not that far. Please? I’m getting old now. I
can’t go that far anymore.”
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“Tm sorry Ma oi, I just don’t think I can do it. “
“All right little one, it’s all right.”
“But you can stay here for a little while and catch your breath if you like.”
“No, no, I better hurry along now. It’s New Year’s at the end of this week
and I’ve got a lot to do. Good bye now.”
“Good bye. Ma oi.”
Nham exited the condo building and walked on, her jelly slippers slapping
against the broken sidewalk.
When she got to the Golden Lion, she tried to be as quick as possible
getting all the materials she needed. Shrimp. Flour. Chili oil. Chili peppers.
Crab, etc. However, it had been a whole two weeks since she had gone to the
Golden Lion and she wanted to take her time and enjoy looking at all the Asian
products that they had. Grocery shopping was always her favorite time out of the
home. She loved smelling all the fresh herbs, chatting with fellow elderly
Vietnamese shoppers if she could find any, looking at the little soft shell crabs in
the tank, and bargaining for lower prices even if the cashier would never give it to
her.
She brought in her baby carriage and immediately began putting all the
herbs she needed for^he dishes into the seated area. As she was putting in some
mint leaves into a bag for the Catfish soup, she saw an old woman who looked
like she was Vietnamese. She pushed the carriage closer to the woman.
“Are you Vietnamese?” asked Nham.
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“Yes, I am. How’d you know?”
“I could tell by the way you dressed. The cotton blouse and the black
pants, I mean. They look like they’re from the old country. The rice hat helps
too.”
“How clever of you.”
“So are you getting ready for the Tet tonight too?”
“Of course. All my children and my children’s children are flying in to
see me.”
“You mean, you live here alone?”
“Yes, all my other children live in Westminster in California.”
“Why don’t you join them?”
“I like living here. The weather is just like how it was in Saigon. I can
grow all my plants from Vietnam right in my backyard. Back in California, the
land and the air is too dry for that.”
“I see. Well, I live here because all my children and my grandchildren
live here. We all wanted to stay together after we moved here from the States.
My daughter Nguyet already lived here with her husband who was an American
Contractor in Vietnam in the 60’s. They married and moved back here as early as
then. So they sponsored us over after we came at the fall of Saigon.”
“You have a very good daughter then.”
“Yes, I have four very good daughters.”
“Well, I better get back to getting all the food I need for the Tet.”
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“Yes, so should 1.”
Nham parted with the old woman regretfully. It was always so nice to talk
with someone in the mother tongue, especially if it was a new friend. It made the
world seem less foreign to her. It made it smaller.
She carted the carriage off to the seafood section where she bought the
soft shell crabs still crawling and the catfish still swimming in the tanks, and the
frozen shrimp in the glass case. Then she went to get the special type of shrimp
flour she’d need to fry the shrimp and the crabs. Afterwards, she got the chili oil
and chili peppers and the rest of the things she needed.
At the register, Nham placed her items on the black rolling thing that she
never knew the name of and began her routine as the cashier began checking the
items.
“Little Daughter, could you please do an old woman the favor of lowering
the price. Maybe even giving a discount on these crabs. I’m a poor old woman
who had to walk here, fifteen whole blocks, mind you, and buy these things. I
don’t have a car and I have very little money in my wallet. Please, is there
something that you could do?”
“I’m sorry Grandmother, but there’s nothing I can do. The prices here go
on automatically when I put the items through the checker.”
“Well, is there any discount to a loyal customer? I’ve been going to this
place for thirty years.”
“We do have a frequent customer discount if that’s what you mean.”
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“Wonderful! Could I please have that?”
“All you have to do is fill out this form.”
“Dear me, it’s in English. I can’t read where to put what.”
“Here, how about if I just give you my member discount?”
“Why thank you. Little Daughter. How kind of you to help an old
Grandmother like me.”
“No problem. You remind me of my Grandmother.”
“Does she live here too? I might know her.”
“No, we lost her some years ago to cancer.”
“Oh dear. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right, she was in her seventies. She had a long, full life.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“Alright. Your total comes to $47.58 with the member discount.”
“Thank you dear. You’re such a good little daughter.”
“Have a nice day!”
“You too, dear, you too.”
As Nham put all the bags into her baby carriage, she walked out with
giddiness at being able to strike a discount finally after all these years. She
walked home with satisfaction in her swelling chest.
By the time she got home, she it was already noon, which didn’t leave
much time to cook everything. She got out the dried persimmons and put them
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into a bowl of water. Then she took out the rest of the groceries and arranged
them in order of what she would cook first. She started with the summer rolls
since those took the longest time to prepare. There was the ground meat to
season, the carrots to julienne as well as the garlic and onion. Then she’d have to
take that mixture and roll into soaked rice paper. Not to mention the frying. She
began the tedious task of chopping all the carrots, daikon, onions and garlic.
Nham had finished all of her chopping, dicing and mixing when the
garage door could be heard opening. Dao was home early for once.
The door opened. “Honey, I’m home!” cried Dao.
“How did you get off so early today?”
“Well, you know how I have such bad allergies. I kept sneezing all
morning and having a runny nose. So my boss thought I was getting sick. So he
let me have the day off. The best part is that he said I better not come in
tomorrow either. So I get New Year’s Day off too!”
“Wonderful! Now you can go ahead and help me with the summer rolls.”
Nham got out the rice paper and a bowl of water.
“Here, you can help me put the meat mixture into the rolls.”
“Did you remember to season the mixture with nuoc inamT"
“Dear, I’ve made a lifetime’s worth of these. Did you think I’d forget?”
“Well, it looks kind of dry.”
“Oh, the eggs!”
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With that, Nham got out a pair of eggs and cracked them into the mixture
and began remixing the mixture.
“Now, that should do it.”
Dao began putting the mixture into the rice paper that she had dipped into
the bowl of water. She was moving much too slow if they were going to finish all
of this in time for dinner. Nham began to panic.
“Can’t you move any quicker? This has to be done by five so the
grandchildren can eat it while we cook the real food.”
“Ma oi. I’m moving as fast as I can. If I moved any faster. I’d be a plane.”
“Alright, alright. Well do it as quickly as you can, and I’ll start preparing
the rest of the food.”
She began with the chicken curry for Minh. She got out the chicken,
potatoes, coconut milk, curry powder and everything else. She chopped up the
potatoes when her chest began to feel daggered. Every time she tried to breathe,
the dagger would come in again at her ribs. She tried for shallow breaths. She
lurched over in pain.
“Are you alright. Ma oi?”
“Yes, yes. I’m alright. I think I’m just still tired from the walk to Golden
Lion.”
“You walked to Golden Lion??? Why didn’t you just ask Nguyet to take
you?”
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“You know how Nguyet is these days. Besides it was healthy for me. I
need to get out sometimes.”
“Do you want to go to the doctor?”
“No, no, Tm fine. Look, Tm standing up already. See? No more pain.”
And with that, Nham stood up and did her best to look normal. The
dagger pulled back, decreasing in its stabs. She resumed her work.
Nham finished the curry soon enough and then moved onto the floured
shrimp dish. Planning ahead, she had bought the de-veined and peeled shrimp so
she could skip those preparatory steps and go straight to the flouring, seasoning
and frying. She remembered how her sister made the shrimp batter so spicy you
could cry. Nham was trying to think, when was the last time she and her sister
had talked?
“Dao, when do you think we can go to Vietnam to see my sister?”
“Ma oi, your sister is dead. She died two years ago, remember?”
“Of course I remember! I meant when can we see her gravesite?”
“Are you sure you’re all right Ma oi?”
“Of course I am.”
“If you say so.”
With that, Nham went back to seasoning the flour and the flouring the
shrimp. She chopped up the bell peppers and put them into the sauté pan where
she added chili oil and butter. Afterwards, she sauteed the floured shrimp.
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By the time Nham had finished the shrimp, Phuong, her fiancée Danny
and Mai had come over.
“Smells good, Mrs. Ta.”
“Thank you Danny, but it’s my mother that’s doing all the cooking.”
“Will you tell her that it smells good for me?”
“Of course. Ma oi, Danny says it smells good.”
Pleased, Nham replied, ^'Cam on, Danny.”
However, the arrival of Phuong, Danny and Mai heralded the fact that
Nham was running out of time. Fast. She moved quickly onto the crab. Dao was
still rolling the summer rolls. There was so much to do, and such a small amount
of time to do them in.
“Are you done with those rolls yet, Dao?”
“No, Ma oi, be patient.”
“If you want Ba oi, we can help Ma oi with the rolls,” said Phuong.
“Oh thank you Minh, chau, that would be so much help.”
“Ba oi, it’s me Phuong. Are you okay?”
“Oh, of course. Of course. I’m okay.”
“Ba oi, you look pale,” said Mai.
“I’m fine, ti Mai, I’m fine. There’s just so much work to do, that’s all.
It’s got me so worried that I won’t finish in time.”
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Nham began with a similar process with the soft shell crabs that she had
done with the shrimp. However this time, she dunked the floured crabs into a pot
full of oil. When was the last time she had seen her sister?
“Dao, do you think we could go back to Vietnam to see my sister some
time soon, please?”
As soon as she uttered the words, she felt the daggered pangs return to her
chest. She dropped a floured crab onto the floor.
“Please, I - need - to - see - my - sister,” Dao cried as she bent over in
pain.
Everyone came crowding to help Nham. Dao and Danny each lifted Dao
up by an arm.
“Quick, let’s get her to South Miami Hospital. Danny, take my car. You
drive the fastest,” ordered Dao.
As they took Nham to the hospital, Nham was still worrying about
finishing the food for the New Year. But then, she began to feel as if she were
being tom from her worries.
And then, she was just floating.
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The Stroke
A war of worry waged within Dao’s mind as she entered South Miami
Hospital with her mother, two daughters and Danny. Her thoughts thundered with
needled fury as how to handle the situation. First, she needed to get her mother
help as quickly as possible. Then she needed to call all her sisters, her husband
and her mother’s doctor to notify them as soon as she got word of her mother’s
condition. She needed to remain calm and steel herself against the urge to flood
her eyes with a heavy barrage of tears.
“Are we going to see my sister?” asked Nham.
“No, Ma oi, your sister’s passed away in Vietnam, remember?” replied
Dao.
“O f course, of course, I do.”
Dao approached the front desk with renewed alarm at her mother’s
disorientation. “Please, we need help. I think my mother’s had a stroke.”
“All right, we just need you to fill out this form and have her sign it.”
Truong, 117
Dao heard what she first thought were firecrackers in the distance. It
wouldn’t have been unusual typically since it was the eve of Tet, and the owners
of all the Saigon shops set off firecrackers at midnight to chase away all the evil
spirits. However, it was strange to hear them since they were banned because of
the war. She continued watching the Tet celebrations on the television set with
her family. The hostess of the show jabbered on inanely while she exploded
miniaturized champagne bottles filled with a rainbow of paper streamers that shot
out like bullets.
Then the firecrackers exploded closer and closer to the house. The rapidly
even and measured firing no longer sounded like firecrackers. It sounded like
machine guns like what Dao saw on television. Her older sisters Anh and Tuyet
looked apprehensively at each other, then at Dao. Her mother and father must’ve
realized it too because they shut off the television set to hear what was going on.
Everyone went to look out the window, and then they saw what everyone feared:
shadows of Viet Cong soldiers were crawling down the road, covered in the
thickness of the night.
After a deathly moment of silence, Dao’s mother said as calmly as she
could, “All right, everyone, Tet celebrations are over. Tonight we’re all sleeping
in the back of the house, in the bathroom together. Come on, there isn’t time to
waste.”
* * * * *
Truong, 118
The nurse came into the waiting room with a wheelchair for Nham and
then entered them all into the ER. They wheeled her into a room that must’ve
once been for children since there was a tree painted on the wall with billowy
green top and zoo animals playing beneath it. A cartoonish baby giraffe smiled at
them happily while Nham was helped onto the hospital bed.
The nurse. Nurse Nancy Bennett, as her nametag read, retrieved some
needles and some empty tubes for drawing blood. Without warning she got out
Nham’s right arm and stabbed in the needle to draw blood for testing.
""Chet chaC Nham exclaimed in surprised pain.
“I know it hurts, honey. I’m sorry,” said Nurse Bennett.
Evidently missing the vein the first time, the nurse stabbed Nham again.
Nham winced, gritting her teeth, and the pain, away.
Annoyed, Dao asked, “Can’t you be more careful?”
“Sorry,” said Nurse Bennet, somewhat put out.
The doctor came in just as the nurse finished drawing blood for testing.
Introducing himself politely, he said, “Hi, I’m Dr. Victor Ince. Now
what’s this about your mother having a stroke?”
“Well, I’m not sure, but I think she had a stroke. She seems disoriented.
She keeps asking about seeing her sister in Vietnam who’s dead. And she was in
some terrible pain earlier,” said Dao.
“Nham, can you please lift up your arms?” asked Dr. Ince.
Truong, 119
In Vietnamese, Dao spoke, “Ma oi, can you please lift up your arms?”
Nham lifted up her arms.
“Good, good. Tell her she can put them down again. After that though,
ask her to push her feet as hard as she can while I grab onto them.”
“Ma oi, you can put your arms down now. But when the doctor puts his
hands on your feet, you’re supposed to push.”
Dr. Ince grabbed onto Nham’s feet. Nham pushed her toes with all her
might.
“Good, good,” he said. “Well, if she had a stroke, it looks like it was a
minor one. But we’ll take her into the X-ray room just to take a look at her chest
and brain to make sure.”
* * * * *
Everyone, except for Dao’s father, squeezed into the bathtub. Tuc sat in
front of the tub, keeping guard in case the Communists came through the house.
Nham sat at the end and bent herself over the children like a hen covering its
chicks from the rain. Dao, the youngest of the three, sat huddled underneath her
mother. No one could sleep under the circumstances, and even if they could, the
loud machine gunfire would just wake them up again.
“Bo oi,” wondered Dao, “I thought you said the Communists couldn’t get
this far into Saigon.”
Truong, 120
Responding more to his own thoughts than Dao’s, Tuc said, ‘T was wrong,
I guess. They must’ve gotten help from the inside somehow. Or else, how’d they
know where to get in and attack?”
“Ma oi. I’m scared,” said Anh.
“Me too,” said Tuyet. “When do you think this fighting will end?”
“Soon,” said Nham, “soon. Hush now, try to get some sleep.”
* * * * *
The nurses came in to wheel Nham into the X-Ray room.
“Girls, Danny, stay here while I go with Ba oi to the X-Ray room,”
instructed Dao.
“If you think that’s best,” said Phuong.
“I do. It’ll be less fuss, and Ba oi won’t get as scared if we’re not all there
giving her our worried looks like we are now,” responded Dao.
“But I want to go. I want to be with Ba oi,” complained Mai.
Dao was surprised at Mai’s willingness to be outside with the people. Mai
had a fear of going out. In fact, she was surprised that Mai went to the hospital
with them at all, now that she thought about il. But she supposed that in family
emergencies would be just about the only thing to bring Mai out of her shell.
Dao responded, “Fine, Mai, you may go with us if you like.”
They entered the X-Ray room filled with wary cautiousness.
Truong, 121
“How do you feel?” asked Dao.
“I feel weird,” said Nham.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t describe it. I just feel weird.”
The nurses rolled Nham into the CATS can where they took some images
of her brain. Then they rolled her out and took some more of her chest. During
all this, Dao could hear Nham mutter prayers to Dieu Thien, the lady Buddha.
“Dear Dieu Thien, please let me live many more healthy years. Dear Dieu
Thien, please let me live to see my granddaughter Mai graduate college and be
happy. Dear Dieu Thien, please let me live long enough to see my great
grandchildren be bom.”
When she heard the prayers, Dao couldn’t stop herself from crying. She
couldn’t keep up her brave face anymore. Dao looked at Mai, who was crying as
well.
“Dear God, please help my mother be well. Please help her survive this,”
whispered Dao.
“Mrs. Ta,” said Dr. Ince consolingly, “I’m afraid we have some bad
news.”
* * * * *
Truong, 122
Morning came in with a fierce brightness through the bathroom window.
The fighting could still be heard not too far in the distance. No one had slept
during the night. They had just waited for the gunfire to end so that they could
resume their normal lives. Or was this heralding of a new beginning? Would life
be like this from now on? Were the Communists here to stay? No one knew. All
that anyone seemed to know was the growing dread in their minds, like a storm
gathering strength.
Dao, still hunched underneath her mother, was cramped from the whole
night of staying in that position. She struggled to move but there wasn’t any
space to find any sort of relief. Everyone looked the worse for wear after the
night of relentless worrying and fear. A cramped back should’ve been the least of
her worries.
Then the rapid and rhythmic bulleting stopped. Dao moved to get out, but
Tuc signaled her and the others to stay where they were until they heard
otherwise. For five minutes, the world held its breath with wary silence. Then an
announcement came.
“To everyone who lives on this street, this is a temporary cease-fire.
Please evacuate your home immediately before 10:00 AM this morning.”
*****
Truong, 123
“Your mother has some old blood in the brain, indicating a stroke,” Dr.
Ince said worriedly, “1 can give her some medicine to clear it out, but it might do
some damage to her system.”
“Well, what would happen if she doesn’t get the medicine?” asked Dao.
“She could have another stroke,” he said.
“Well, then give the medicine to her.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
They wheeled Nham back into the room where Danny was holding
Phuong, while they were waiting. Caught off guard by the entering group, they
let go of each other abruptly.
“Well, what’s the news?” asked Phuong.
“They say that she had a stroke in her brain and that she has some old
blood in there as a result. She needs to take some medicine to clear it out, so
we’re giving it to her,” responded Dao.
“1 don’t know Mom, those kind of medicines are kind of hard on the
elderly,” said Phuong.
“Well, if we don’t she stands the chance of getting another stroke.”
“Why are you looking so concerned? What did the doctor say?” asked
Nham.
“You had a stroke. Ma oi. He’s going to give you some medicine to make
you all better,” said Dao.
Truong, 124
“Why does Phuong look so concerned?” asked Nham.
“She’s just worried about you, that’s all Ma oi,” said Dao.
“Don’t worry Phuong, Ba oi is strong. I’ll live many m ore...” said Nham
before beginning to vomit to the side of the bed.
“Nurse! Dr. Ince! Hurry quick, my mother is throwing up!” said Dao.
* * * * *
Dao threw up the moment they got up and out of the tub. Nham began
cleaning the mess, when Tuc said, “No time for that now! We have to get out of
here!”
“Let me just get some of my jewelry and some old photographs of the
family,” said Nham.
“Fine. But we’re leaving in five minutes so hurry! It’s already 9:30AM
and who knows if the Communists are going to honor their word and wait until 10
to start their firing,” said Tuc.
“I’m sorry Ma oi. I guess I was just so scared all night that I just felt
sick,” apologized Dao.
“It’s all right little one. I’ll take care of the mess when we get back
home,” said Nham.
“That is, if we have a home to come back to,” muttered Tuyet.
Truong, 125
•Nham quickly gathered her jewelry from her secret stash in the cabinet
drawer. Tuyet, Anh, and Dao all got the photo albums on top of the living room
table. There was no time to select individual photos, so they just brought the
whole albums with them.
Once they got out the door, they all raced down across the street as
quickly as they could. Dao looked for a moment down the street to the direction
that the Communists had been crawling from the night before. It looked like they
had stormed and taken over the old mansion that had turned into an English
teaching school at the end of the road. The mansion now looked to be in ruins, as
if it had decayed in decades over night.
“Dao, hurry up. This isn’t a time for touring!” said Tuc.
“All right. Bo oi.”
* * * * *
Dr. Ince and Nurse Bennett hurried in as quickly as she could. They
pushed Nham back into bed. Something was wrong. Half of Nham’s face had
turned lax, as if anesthetized.
“Ma oi, are you all right? Ma oi!” yelled Dao.
No response.
“Grab onto your mother’s right hand and I’ll grab onto her left. Tell her to
squeeze as hard as she can,” said Dr. Ince.
Truong, 126
“Ma oi, I need you to squeeze your hands as hard as you can,” said Dao.
“Is she squeezing? Tell her to squeeze both her hands.”
“Squeeze both your hands. Ma oi.”
Dao felt a tight squeeze from Dao’s right hand.
“Is she squeezing?”
“Yes, I can feel her on my side. Her grip’s tight,” said Dao.
“I’m gonna move down to her legs. I’m gonna grab both of her feet. Tell
her to push with all her might for both feet.”
“Ma oi, the Doctor needs you to push as hard as you can with both feet.”
The doctor moved down to her feet. Dao could see the right foot pushing
hard against the doctor’s hand, while the left foot lay limp.
“She’s had another stroke. A massive one by the looks of it. We need to
get her that medicine ASAP,” said Dr. Ince.
* * * * *
They crossed two more streets before stopping where everyone else had.
All of their neighbors had carried their belongings, clothes, food, and other
essentials to get them through however long the fighting would last. No one
knew where to go.
“Who do we know that we can stay with?” asked Nham.
“Well, there’s my younger brother and his wife,” said Tuc.
Truong, 127
“They’re too far away. We can’t walk there and we don’t have enough for
all of us to fit in the taxi,” said Nham.
“Well then, what do you suggest?” asked Tuc, somewhat annoyed.
“We can stay at Thu’s place,” suggested Nham.
“We just borrowed money from Thu to buy our house. We can’t stay at
her place too.”
“Fine, then what do you suggest?” asked Nham testily.
“I suggested my brother’s!” yelled Tuc.
“How about we stay at my friend Ninh’s house?” suggested Anh, “There’s
a lot of space now since all of her older brothers and sisters moved out already.
They also only live five blocks down.”
“Would Ninh’s parents mind?” asked Dao.
“I don’t think so. They’re always inviting me over and telling me to have
the family visit,” said Anh.
“Well, this would be a visit all right,” said Tuyet.
*****
They wheeled Nham and her bed into one of the ER stations and plugged
her up to the heart monitors.
“That’s strange. I’m not getting a read on her blood pressure,” said Nurse
Bennett.
Truong, 128
“What does that mean?” asked Dao.
“Well it means that it’s either too high or too low to be read,” said Nurse
Bennett. “Wait, I’m getting a response now. Dr. Ince!”
“Yes?” asked Dr. Ince.
“Look at her blood pressure. It’s high off the charts.”
“Give her some ACE inhibitors in addition to the medicine for the blood
clot.”
“What does her high blood pressure mean. Doctor?” asked Dao, panicked.
“Well, it’s high right now, but I suspect it’s fluctuating a lot. Hence why
we can’t get a read on her right now. I’m giving her some ACE inhibitors to
stabilize her blood however.”
Dao looked at her mother. Her left eye was closed. Her right eye
however, seemed to be watching everything.
“Is she still conscious Doctor?” asked Dao.
“It’s tough to say. It looks like she may be half paralyzed, but beyond
that, we just don’t know if it’s any worse or better. We’re getting our cardiologist
to come down and take a look at her. Keep talking to her like normal - that
sometimes that helps the patient stay with you. This would also be a good time to
call the family, just in case something happens.”
“Thank you Doctor.”
As he left, Dao began dialing on her cell phone. First, she called Jack,
who wasn’t answering.
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“Dear, it’s me. We’re in South Miami Hospital. Ma oi had two strokesr.
They think she’s half-paralyzed at best. Please hurry over. We’re in the ER right
now.”
After calling Jack, she called her sisters Tuyet, Nguy et, and Anh.
Tuyet answered annoyed, “Where have you been? We’ve all been waiting
outside the house for hours now. I thought we were going to celebrate Tet at your
house this year.”
“We’re in South Miami Hospital right now. Ma oi had two strokes. One
at the house and one over here. They think she’s half-paralyzed now.”
''Chet cha. We’re coming over right now. Where are you?”
“We’re in the ER.”
“Ok. We’re coming.”
As Tuyet hung up, Dao turned to Nham.
“MA OI! Everyone’s coming over to see you! Please stay with us so you
can see them! Please stay with us Ma oi! We need you!”
*****
When they approached Ninh’s house, Nham said, “Anh, you have to
introduce us to Ninh’s parents so we’re not too rude.”
“All right. Ma oi.”
They knocked on the door. Ninh answered.
Truong, 130
“Anh! Chuc mung nam moiV Ninh said.
“Happy Tet to you too! Ninh, is it all right if my parents talk to your
parents?”
“Sure, no problem. Come in, come in everyone,” Ninh said. She yelled
out into the hallway, “Ma oi. Bo oi! Anh and her family are here!”
The family entered Ninh’s house with an awkward humbleness. Ninh’s
family’s house was a modest two story house, which would’ve been large for any
family in Vietnam, except for Ninh’s. Ninh had eleven older brothers and sisters
and thus, they had at one point lived in tight squalor. However, now the house
was almost empty with all the brothers and sisters now grown, married and moved
out, except for Ninh. As they entered the house, Dao wondered how fourteen
people could’ve squeezed into these small quarters.
Ninh’s parents, Dinh and Thuoc Nguyen entered the hallway from the
kitchen in the back. They were a tiny couple, almost as short as Dao at her eleven
years of age. They must’ve had some mountain blood in them. Despite how
short they were, even for Vietnamese standards however, they made up for it in
stoutness. Their bodies were shaped like pears.
“Welcome to our home. We’re sorry that it’s such a mess.”
Dao looked around the house. It was spotless.
Tuc began, “Oh, it looks wonderful. Much better than our little pigsty
with our three daughters. I don’t know if you’ve heard but the Communists broke
Truong, 131
into Saigon. They came onto our street actually. We’re right in the thick of it.
And well, we were wondering...”
Dinh completed the sentence, “If you could stay here while the fighting
goes on? Of course, you may. We’re used to a crowd anyways, what with the
twelve children that we raised.”
“Thank you so much, Dinh and Thuoc, we’re so grateful to you for
extending your home to us. We just had no idea of where to go after the cease
fire,” Dao replied.
Relief filled the room as the initial asking was received with warmth.
Ninh said to Anh and Dao, “Come on you can come and play in my room
for now.”
Tuyet, always trying to be an adult, stayed beside the adults to talk about
how the Communists could’ve broken in. As Dao left the living room where the
adults were, she heard Tuyet suggest sagely, “Perhaps it was the act of
paratroopers.”
Ninh’s room was small but warm with youthful decorations. On her walls,
she had all of her paintings from school and awards that she had earned over the
years for volunteering to help the soldiers. In the comer of the room, there hung a
crimson kite made of sticks, string and tissue paper. Paper butterflies colored in
by red markers were scattered about the room. A couple of SEARS catalogues
lay on top of her desk as the sole form of entertainment.
Truong, 132
“I don’t have much, but we could pretend to buy stuff from the
catalogues,” suggested Ninh.
“Sure, that sounds like it could be fun, right Anh?” helped Dao as cheerily
as possible.
*****
After Nham’s blood pressure stabilized, they moved her to ICU. The
whole family, except Minh, arrived right after the move. Two rows of fraught
faces lined Nham’s ICU room as Nham continued to be unresponsive.
“How is she doing?” asked Anh.
“We don’t know. She hasn’t been responding at all, so that can’t be
good.”
Just then. Dr. Ince walked in with another doctor.
“Mrs. Ta, this is Dr. Covarrubias. He’s a neurologist. He came to
examine your mother,” said Dr. Ince.
“Hello, Mrs. Ta, everyone,” said Covarrubias.
With that brief hello, the doctor went to work. With a wooden q-tip he
stroked the bottom of her feet to the top, the inner workings of her palm to the tips
of her fingers, causing the toes to tickle downward and the hands to move inward.
Perhaps this was a good sign.
"Chet cha...” said a voice from the bed.
Truong, 133
‘My God, she’s awake!” said Tuyet.
*****
Dao and the family had been staying with the Nguyen family for three
days when the radio finally had some good news to say.
“Attention citizens of Saigon, the Communists have retreated from the
city. Citizens of District 3 may return to their homes at this time. Thank you,”
said the radio.
“Yay, we get to go home!” exclaimed Dao.
“Dinh, Thuoc, I’d like to thank you so much for letting us stay with you.
Our home is welcome to you anytime, should Buddha forbid that the fighting
happen in your district,” said Tuc.
“Thank you Tuc, we appreciate your offer. But I hope we should never
have to take it,” laughed Thuoc.
“I guess this is good bye,” said Ninh a little sadly.
“Don’t worry Ninh, we’ll still see you in school,” said Anh.
“Yeah, we’ll see you in school and maybe after school you could come to
our house to play,” offered Dao.
“I’d like that,” said Ninh, brightening a bit.
The family left the Nguyen family in good spirits, relieved to finally go
home again. However, when they got home, they almost didn’t recognize it. The
Truong, 134
entire front of the house seemed to be blown apart by either a bazooka or a tank.
As they entered the house through an open wall, they looked at what was left of
the living room. The walls and couch was filled with bullet holes, as if a firing
squad had been let loose upon it. The living room table where the albums once
laid upon was broken in two. What was worse than all of that combined, was that
the um on the altar where Dao’s grandmother’s ashes laid inside, not to mention
the altar itself, all were smashed to the side, used as a block to the back of the
house.
“My mother’s ashes.. .they treated it like dust. Those Communists will
pay,” said Tuc in a fury.
“This is terrible,” said Dao, in shock.
“Really? I was expecting worse,” said Tuyet.
“What’ll we do. Ma oi?” asked Anh.
As if not quite hearing Anh at first, Nham was looking through the living
room for some piece of their lives left intact. She found a picture of their house in
Hanoi lying on the floor.
“If we can rebuild our lives when we moved down here from Hanoi, we
can rebuild again,” said Nham confidently.
* * * * *
Truong, 135
Talking with a heavy slur, her left side of the mouth still paralyzed, Nham
said, “Why does everyone look so pale?”
“You had another stroke!” exclaimed Dao.
“And you were unconscious!” said Anh.
“Well, I’m all right now. Dao, ask the doctor if I’m all right now. I need
to get home to cook for Tet.”
“For goodness sake Ma oi, you’re half paralyzed and you just had a stroke,
you’re in no condition to cook, let alone leave the hospital!” exclaimed Tuyet.
“Ask the doctor when I can leave then,” said Nham.
“Dr. Ince, my mother wants to know when she can leave,” said Dao,
giving in to her mother.
“Whoa now, nobody’s talking about leaving for right now. We still have
to give you at least a week of physical therapy to try and get your left side back if
possible. If you do well at that, then we’ll talk about leaving.”
“What did he say?” demanded Nham.
“He says you need to stay here and do at least a week of physical therapy
first. Then we can talk about leaving,” said Nguyet.
“But what about Tet?” asked Nham upset.
“Tet can wait. I’d rather have you healthy than have a good meal. This
Lunar New Year’s is already lucky with you back. We don’t need a meal or
firecrackers or any other silly thing to get luck,” said Dao.
Truong, 136
Dao did indeed feel truly lucky, as if God had answered her prayers. The
family gathered around Nham in a communal embrace as if they too felt the luck
of the New Year in Nham’s survival.
Truong, 137
The Game Show
“And for the million dollar question, according to something that is really
cheap, you are a dime a) a million b) a dozen c) a thousand d) a hundred. Van,
what is your answer?” asked Meredith brightly.
“B) a dozen!” exclaimed Van.
“Is that your final answer?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations Van, you’ve just won a million dollars!”
“I’ve won! I’ve won!” yelled Van.
“Van oi! You were dreaming! Go back to sleep!” yelled his mother,
grouchy from being woken up.
Van looked around the room. It was a hotel room. Then he remembered:
his taping of Who Wants to be a Millionaire wasn’t until two days from now.
Right now, they were in the Marriott Hotel in New York. He took his dream to be
an omen of good fortune. Yes, yes, he would make it to the million dollar
question and he’d get it by God, he would.
He tried going back to sleep, but couldn’t. He was too excited. His mind
sped like a race car, looping around in circles. There was the taping in two days.
Truong, 138
There was the stake to win a million dollars. He could only win a million dollars
by going to the taping. The taping was in two days.
Soon enough, it was morning. Unsure of how they’d want to spend the
day, he asked his mother what she wanted to do.
“Go to Chinatown,” was all she said.
So they went to Chinatown.
*****
Van woke up that morning and jumped out of his bed and got out of his
Transformers pajamas and right into his school clothes that he had already laid
out the previous night before in anticipation for the big day. Today was his first
day of school. He had grown up with stories of how his parents had loved school
and played with all the Vietnamese kids. Now he’d finally have a school with
Vietnamese kids to play with unlike the mean Cuban kids from the neighborhood
that made fun of his Vietnamese speaking. Once he was finished dressing into his
formal satin ao dai, he ran out of his room and into the kitchen where breakfast
was already waiting.
Ba oi was in the kitchen keeping his Chinese sausage and xoi, sticky rice,
warm. She got out some orange juice and handed it over to him.
"Cam on, Ba oz,” Van spoke politely.
Truong, 139
Once breakfast was over. Van grabbed his backpack and went out the
door. Ba put on her slippers and joined him on his walk to the bus stop. When he
got to the bus stop, he noticed that there were the same Cuban kids from his
neighborhood waiting. There must’ve been some mistake. Maybe they were
going to the Cuban kid school and there was just a common bus stop for the two
schools. The Cuban kids dressed in their regular neighborhood clothes, not
showing any sign of respect to their future teachers. When they looked at Van,
they started laughing.
“Nice pajamas,” said one of the kids as the others laughed.
Van ignored them, knowing that they were in the wrong. He knew his
parents had worn ao dais when going to school to show respect and order. He
saw them wearing it in the old photos.
Then the bus came, and Ba nudged him onto it, following the rest of the
kids.
"Horn Ba oi, KhongflC said Van, telling her it was the wrong bus.
"Ga f i ti Van,” said Ba, as she nudged him onto the bus anyways. He went
on the bus, getting worried now. Perhaps things were different in the States. He
walked to the back of the bus feeling all eyes on his ao dai. He hung his head
down in shame.
Once he got to school, he desperately looked for some Vietnamese kids.
None. He could only see a sea of brown and white. What was worse was that
they all spoke English only. He had a bad feeling of what class would be like.
Truong, 140
When the recess bell rang. Van reluctantly went to class. He found it by
following the other kids who looked about his age. There the teacher spoke
English only. She called roll, but Van barely registered it, only raising his hand
when the students began looking at him, again with eyes of laughter at his clothes,
at his stupidity.
After roll. Van gestured towards his lower parts and pointed out towards
the bathroom. The teacher understood. He went to the back bathroom stall and
hid. He cried for a long while until the teacher came and found him in there.
Seeming to understand his problems, she took him back to class and left him by
himself for the day while the other played.
Once school was over and Van had gotten back on the bus towards home,
he cried again at what a terrible day school had been. When he got home, he
began yelling at Ba oi and his parents.
In Vietnamese, he shouted, “Why didn’t ever teach me English?” Van
cried. “Why did you have to speak in Vietnamese all the time? This is the States,
not Vietnam. Why didn’t you think it would be different here?”
*****
At Chinatown, there was an endless display of markets. Asian fruits like
water apples, lychees, and longans all filled the front of the markets, luring in
customers with their sweet jasmine-like scents. There were fish markets as well.
Truong, 141
with the fresh fish sitting out in front with their clear glossy eyes on a bed of ice,
the sidewalks all wet from having to wash out the stains and salty scents of the
fish.
After looking around Chinatown for a bit, they found a Malaysian
restaurant that Van wanted to try. Inside, it was like a well built wooden shack on
the beach. Dried palm leaves stuck out from the side of the wall to the right,
covering the huge fish tank. Giant bamboo poles served as guard rails separating
the hostess’s stand from the dining area. There was no wait time, which Van
couldn’t decide was good or bad, or both. It was good since he didn’t have to
wait in line, but possibly bad, because it could also mean the food wasn’t great.
The waitress served them their menus and got them some tea. Van looked
at the menu. He studied it as if it was going to be a possible question on the game
show. He finally chose a shrimp broth with egg noodles, while his mother chose
the curry broth with egg noodles.
The food was served shortly after their orders. Van was relieved to find
that the dishes were actually quite good. Since there was no one else at the
restaurant, they ate as sloppily as they felt free to, slurping up the broth without
reservation.
After they were done, they walked back to the hotel. Anh slept while Van
studied for the next day. He looked up all the trivia questions he could on the
internet and played the internet version of the game show that he’d be going on
the next day. It was going to be a long day and night of studying.
Truong, 142
*****
"Graciah,” repeated Van to the lunch lady in a Cuban accent.
The lunch lady filled his lunch tray with the usual mystery pizza plate,
looking somewhat confused.
“When are you going to drop that e’tupido accent?” asked Van’s friend
Gordon, imitating Van.
“What, you don’t like it?” asked Van surprised.
“It makes me feel like saying to you, go back to Cuba, for Christ’s sake,”
said Gordon.
Van laughed. He wasn’t ready to give up his accent however. He had
worked on it for years after learning English. It had helped him fit in with the
Cuban kids in the neighborhood finally. At first, they were puzzled by his
sporting his new accent, but with time, they got used to it, as he gradually won
them over.
“Watch out. Major Jerkface coming in at 2 o’clock, said Gordon to Van in
a whisper.
“Hey Vansy Pansy boy,” said Major Jerkface, also known as Tomas
Garcia.
“Hey Tomas,” said Van uncomfortably.
“’Till ‘porting that Cuban accent?” asked Tomas.
Truong, 143
“Yeah, what about it?” asked Van.
“Ohnuttin’. I just get a kick out of it. You with your squinty eyes and
yellow skin, trying so hard to be one of us Cubanos. It warms my heart, really it
does. I love how pathetic it makes you look,” said Tomas.
“Why don’t you go and fail the twelfth grade a third time,” said Gordon
angrily.
“Working on it, bro,” said Tomas laughing as he walked away from the
lunch line.
“Ignore him,” said Gordon.
“He’s right though,” said Van, this time emphasizing his s.
“Look, you speak the way you want to speak. Hell to those who say
otherwise. That includes me,” said Gordon.
“Thanks Gordon,” said Van.
*****
The next morning Van woke up full of anxiety for the day. Today was the
big day. He and his mom got ready and then went downstairs to eat a quick
breakfast at the hotel restaurant. After that, they waited downstairs for the limo
that was supposed to pick them up.
At 10, the limo came. The driver came up to him, and asked, “Mr. Van
Do?”
Truong, 144
“Yes, that’s me,” replied Van nervously.
“Let me take you and your mother to the limo,” said the driver pleasantly
as he walked out the lobby.
Once in the limo. Van began to feel his nerves come undone. This was it.
This was his test of truth. He’d show all those people back in Miami that he was
better than them. It wasn’t enough that he was a doctor, he had to be the best to
prove to those Cuban kids on the street that he deserved respect. Yes, he’d show
them all right.
When they got to the studio,, both he and his mom were struck by how
huge it was. When the driver led them to the front desk, the secretary led Van to
the waiting room while she took his mom to her special seat among the other
audience members. Inside, there were bottles of water and assorted fruit in a fruit
basket. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it was a thoughtful gesture on the part of
the show nonetheless.
Then one of the crew came to the waiting room and told Van it was time
to go on air. He left the room with a queasy anticipation. Then before he knew it,
he was walking onto the stage where Meredith Vieira sat and the rest of the world
watched.
“Please everybody welcome Mr. Van Do!” shouted Meredith.
The audience applauded and cheered. Van felt some of his senses and his
nerves coming back to him. He sat down across from Meredith.
“Hi Van,” said Meredith.
Truong, 145
“Hi Meredith,” said Van.
“Ok, now you know the rules. If you need help, you get three Lifelines:
50:50, Phone-a-friend, and Ask the Audience. Let’s play Who Wants to be a
Millionaire!” shouted Meredith as the audience cheered.
Meredith said seriously, “All right Van, for one hundred dollars, which of
the following was not a rallying cry of the French Revolution? A) Liberty B)
Fraternity C) Equality D) Vive le Jerry Lewis.”
Van smiled, “D) Vive le Jerry Lewis.”
“Is that your final answer?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations Van, you’ve won a hundred dollars. Only fourteen more
questions to go!”
Van flew by the first ten questions. One had been what vaudeville players
used to take their worst actors off the stage. Another had asked what gambling
game used a pair of dice. It was getting to be all too easy for him. He relaxed
more and smiled at the audience.
“So Van, tell us about yourself,” said Meredith.
“Well, there’s not much to tell. I’m a doctor in South Miami Hospital,”
said Van.
“Wow, that’s impressive. A doctor. No wonder you’re breezing through
these questions,” said Meredith flirtatiously.
Truong, 146
“Well now Meredith, it just looks easy, but really, it takes time to figure
these out. Your questions are challenging,” said Van.
“So now, where are you from?” asked Meredith.
“I’m from Miami, Florida,” said Van proudly.
“No, I mean, where are you really from?” asked Meredith.
“Well, my family is from Vietnam,” said Van, losing a bit of his
smoothness.
“Amazing, and how did they get here?” asked Meredith, sounding
absolutely fascinated with him. It seemed like she was building up his image as a
poor immigrant boy who made good to the audience. Well, if that’s what she
wanted, then she’d get it.
“Well, my parents helped the family escape from Saigon on the day of the
fall of Saigon. They came over as boat people,” said Van.
He had lied. His aunt and uncle had actually been the ones to save the
family, and his other aunt Nguyet had been the ones to sponsor them, but he got
caught up in the moment too much to care.
“Wonderful. We have a real life American Dream story here folks,”
exclaimed Meredith. “And now for the 25,000 dollar question. What relation is
late actor John Barrymore to Drew Barrymore? A) Great-grandfather, B)
Grandfather, C) Father, D) Great uncle.”
Van panicked. He didn’t know who the heck this John Barrymore was.
He had always been bad with pop culture questions.
Truong, 147
“Tm going to have to use a Lifeline, Meredith,” said Van almost ashamed
at himself for needing help.
“All right, which Lifeline would you like to use?” asked Meredith.
“Fd like to ask the audience,” said Van.
“All right, we’ve asked the audience. A whopping 60% have gone with
B) Grandfather. Would you like to say the same. Van?”
“Yes, Fd like to go with B then.”
“Is that your final answer?” asked Meredith.
“Yes, that’s my final answer,” said Van.
“Congratulations Van, you’ve won 25,000 dollars!”
Van felt a wave of relief flow through him. Only five more questions left.
“All right Van, for 50,000 dollars, here is the next question. What element
is always found in hemoglobin? A) Iron B) Calcium C) Magnesium D) Sulfur,”
said Meredith.
“A, Iron,” said Van, happy that his luck seemed to come in.
“Is that your final answer?” asked Meredith.
“Yes, it is,” said Van.
“Looks like that medical degree came in handy, because you’re right.
Congratulations Van, you’ve won 50,000 dollars!” shouted Meredith.
“Now for the 100,000 dollar question, what was the name of Donald
Duck’s sister? A) Daisy B) Dumbella C) Donna D) Drusilla.”
Van panicked again.
Truong, 148
“Fd like to ask for a Lifeline, Meredith,” said Van.
“Okay Van. Which one? You have two left,” said Meredith, stating the
obvious.
“Fd like to ask for 50:50,” said Van.
Two answers were removed, Daisy and Drusilla. Unfortunately for Van,
those were the two that he had already eliminated in his mind. Now he began to
panic again.
Feebly, almost barely above a whisper, he asked, “Meredith, Fd like to ask
for another Lifeline.”
“All right Van. You have one left. Phone-a-friend, who would you like to
call?”
“Fd like to call my friend Gordon,” said Van.
“And why do you want to call him?” asked Meredith.
“Because he’s the smartest guy I know,” said Van proudly.
“Good answer. Let’s call Gordon now,” said Meredith.
The phone rang in the stage set. It was uncomfortably loud and echoed
throughout the studio. Gordon answered.
“Hello?” asked Gordon.
“Hi Gordon, this Meredith Vieira from Who Wants to be a Millionaire.
We’re calling you because your friend Van is stuck and he thought you could
help,” said Meredith.
“I hope I can,” said Gordon.
Truong, 149
“Great. Here’s the question. What was the name of Donald Duck’s sister?
We’ve harrowed it down to B) Dumbella or C) Donna.”
“Oh my god. I don’t know that question. 'Um.. .let me think.. .let me
think...”
“Looks like your friend is having some trouble Van,” said Meredith.
Van’s worry began to escalate. If Gordon didn’t know, then Van would
be screwed.
“I’m sorry Van, I don’t know,” said Gordon.
“Time’s up. Well Van, your buddy Gordon wasn’t too much of a help to
you there,” said Meredith.
Van didn’t know what to do now.
“You can answer the question, potentially getting it wrong and walk away
with only 25,000 dollars, or you could get it right and be on your way to a
million,” said Meredith.
Van decided that if he was in, he was all in.
“I’m going to stick with it Meredith. I’m going to choose C) Donna,” said
Van.
“Is that your final answer?”
“Yes, it is.”
A long silent pause occurred. Van tried to read Meredith’s face, but
couldn’t.
Truong, 150
“Tm sorry Van, but the correct answer was B) Dumbella. Thank you for
playing though. It’s been a real pleasure to meet you,” said Meredith as she
reached out and grabbed his arm.
Van was devastated. He walked off the stage in a daze wondering where
his dream had gone.
On the plane back to Miami, he let his dream of finally showing it to
everyone be capsized by reality.
Truong, 151
The Moon Festival
Dao listened to the rain fall against the pebbles lining the house, polishing
them slowly by an erosion of tears. She lied in bed until she knew it was time to
start the day with Ma oi. After Ma oi’s stroke, Dao had taken time off from work
to take care of her. The break from work proved to be just as exhausting as work
itself however. Although it had been a miracle that Ma oi had survived the stroke,
she was left half paralyzed. Thus, she couldn’t do the normal house chores or
cooking that she had done for the family. So Dao had taken over.
The rain gently softened into silence. Dao took that as a sign to start her
day. The moon festival was coming up, and Ma oi had been determined to bake
her moon cakes for everyone like usual.
When Dao got to the kitchen, she discovered Ma had already beaten her to
getting out the necessary items for the moon cakes.
“We need to get molasses,” she said, “and melon candy.”
Truong, 152
With the coconut palm bladed roof hanging over her mother’s head, Dao
watched her mother squat down on her muddied porch, sitting duck position with
her back to the side of the door. She watched her mother paw over the nearly
empty money bowl, counting under her breath. She looked worried, her brows
etched lines like the wrinkles of a tree trunk.
Dao looked at her mother thoughtfully for a moment; then she
concentrated on her mission. In the house, Dao plotted her next parachute
landing. It would be into the north of the living room, but still south of the table,
east of the sofa and just west of the door. Her men would have ample room to
maneuver over the concrete cracks and seek safety from the enemy radio under
the cover of the couch. The true test, however, would be in the strength of their
tissue-fibered shoots, and fish-wired strings. Whether these babies would fly
became the exploration of the day. But the experience of her troops also came
under question: miniaturized, plastic versions of soldiers, yes, but scattered
among the troops were the nail-sized recruits of yellow ducks, tangerine dogs,
pointily-winged angels, and prettily painted housewives. Nevertheless, Dao
placed full faith in her men, women and animals, knotting each loyal soldier and
civilian with a padded shroud of old fabric from some pants she’d outgrown to
ensure a safe landing for all.
Unfortunately, her pitted throws upwards did nothing for catching wind to
open up the parachutes. Her first few men died: hurdling plummets gave way to
hard landings. Reluctantly, she removed the protective shields in case this was
Truong, 153
the source of the all too speedy drops. Now, however, their falls just came in
conjunction with sound: chinking plastic crashes, clangs against the unforgiving,
hard concrete.
The only choice was a change of attack. She’d have to come in from the
far West now. As her last resort, she moved herself towards the porch and door,
in hopes of catching a draft.
Outside, Nham squatted on the porch, her back now to Dao. Dao
carelessly collided into her ma with her frantic stomps and infrequent stops for
breath as she ventured outdoors. Nham thinly smiled in tired, but polite, thanks
for her 11 year old’s distraction. Never heeding moods or occasion, Dao simply
ran out, pecked her mother on her loosely tied bun, as she linked her mother’s
right arms and pivoted on her foot. Her skirt ballooned up like an umbrella
reversed by a wind gust. It was typical Dao to enter in, and exit out, with an
elaboration of swirls. Her toothpick lightness brought no burden to whomever it
was she clung upon for her swing effect.
Nham scolded her lightly for her innocent indecency, saying, “Dao, really
now. It’s not very ladylike to do such things at your age. You’re getting to be too
big for this.”
In front of her, Dao began the parachute trials once more; however, the
heavy heat of the outdoors did nothing to greatly improve her experiment. Nham
subtly aided Dao’s endeavors with handmade wind, helped by the ends of some of
the coconut leaves.
Truong, 154
“You’re not doing it in the right direction,” said Dao pouting at her
mother.
Since the leaves were attached to the roofs edge however, there was no
remedy for the situation other than Dao altering her position of landing once
more.
As she was doing so, Nham paused from fanning and called out lightly,
attempting to hide her urgency, “Dao, maybe you’d like to show Aunt Thu what
you’ve made today. Her house gets more breeze than ours does since it’s by the
lake. While you’re there, could you also ask Aunt Thu if she could spare to give
back what I gave to her a few weeks ago? Don’t worry, dear, she’ll understand
what I mean. And be sure to come back before sunset before the Viet Cong
curfew.”
Dao glanced at her mother with resentment and reluctance. How her aunt
would know what she meant was beyond Dao. She resented not being able know
the message she was supposed to relay. Weighing more heavily on her mind was
the fact that changing her plan of attack for a third time felt like a weakness in her
commanding abilities, even more so, to be commanded to do so by a civilian, her
mother. Yet in the civilian world, her mother was still her mother, where giving
labor topped earning a rank.
*****
Truong, 155
Dao and Nham drove to the Golden Lion Asian Market. Once there. Ma
took even more time than usual, browsing the items as if each were jewels. Dao
began to get impatient.
“Ma oi, we don’t have all day. We still need to bake the moon cakes, you
know,” said Dao.
“I know, I know, but I want to buy the best ingredients. It makes the
moon cakes even better,” said Nham.
Ma continued to browse through the melon candy and then once she was
done, she went to the molasses aisle and examined each jar of molasses to see
which one was the darkest and the thickest of the bunch.
“Dao, which one of these do you think looks darker?” asked Ma
contemplatively.
“Ma oi, they look the same!” said Dao losing her patience. Instantly, she
regretted it, and said, “The one to the right looks darker. Ma oi. Can we go now,
please?”
“In a minute,” she said. “I still have to get the pork.”
She went down to the butcher’s area and looked at the ground pork.
“Do you think the front or the back of the tray will be freshest?” asked Ma
thinking.
Dao gave in. “The back,” said Dao.
“Why’s that?”
Truong, 156
“Because the back is where the butcher puts the latest meat into the
display case.”
“Good line of reasoning Dao. Tell the butcher that I’ll have some ground
pork from the back of the display case then.”
Dao told the butcher which ground pork to get and after that they paid for
their items. They drove back home.
On the way back home. Ma exclaimed, suddenly alarmed, ""Chet cha. I
forgot the sesame seeds and the almond paste.”
Dao, annoyed once again said, “Does it really need the sesame seeds and
the almond paste?”
“Of course it does. It’s what sets my moon cakes apart from the rest,” said
Ma proudly.
“I know, but your moon cakes are good enough without them,” said Dao,
not wanting to turn around.
“I want these to be the best I’ve ever made,” said Ma softly.
“I’m sure these will be fine,” said Dao.
“You don’t understand. I don’t know if I’ll be here next year to make
them again,” said Ma even more softly.
A pregnant pause occurred.
“Ok, we’re heading back, but you better remember everything you need
this time,” said Dao.
Truong, 157
*****
Dao made her way into her Aunt Thu’s village of Thai Binh within a brisk
twenty minutes. Deducing from her mother’s cryptic tone, this was an important
mission, an adult mission. Even though she still resented not knowing, at least
she got to be the messenger of it. She did her best to walk as quickly as she could
without the troops in her purse falling out.
A surprised but pleased Aunt Thu greeted Dao with smacking kisses and
rib-crushing hugs that Dao squirmed to get out of. After all, what if her men saw
her in this compromised position? Dao explained to Aunt Thu that she couldn’t
let her men see her like this.
“What men?” asked Aunt Thu.
“These men,” said Dao, showing Aunt Thu the contents of her threadbare,
cotton purse. As she did so, she looked out the door at the lake across the road.
There was just the right breeze blowing.
“Oh,” said Aunt Thu as she gave Dao a bottle of Coke that she had been
saving for the Moon Festival coming up.
“Here’s a peace offering for embarrassing you in front of your men,” Aunt
Thu said.
Truong, 158
Dao happily accepted the treat without any thanks or polite refusals that
her mother would’ve made her say.
As Dao gulped down the bottle of Coke, Aunt Thu asked her, “Why have
you decided to visit Dao?”
Absorbed in her Coke, Dao almost forgot her mission. Dao replied,
“Mother asked me to ask you to give her back something that she gave you a little
bit ago.”
At first her Aunt Thu looked blankly curious until some grim thought
must’ve crept in that she didn’t bother to articulate. Aunt Thu’s sudden squinting
of the eyes and pursing of the lips made Dao afraid that she had said something
that would get her into trouble. She reminded her of her mother when she was too
angry to speak. Aunt Thu walked silently out of the living room and into the
bedroom. Dao had done something now surely, and now Aunt Thu must be
getting Uncle Bao’s belt to whip her. She went to the wall and put her back to it.
Aunt Thu would have to pull Dao from the wall before she could whip her. Aunt
Thu returned to the room. Dao was petrified and winced, looking in the other
direction, preparing herself for the sting of the whip. If Aunt Thu couldn’t get to
Dao’s back, she most likely would grab her hand to whip instead. Thus, Dao had
looked away.
When silence ensued, Dao peeked open a look at her aunt. Instead of a
whip, however, she returned with a handful of coins and dong notes.
“Wow!” shouted Dao. “All that’s for us?”
Truong, 159
“Yes, but be careful with it,” warned Aunt Thu. “You can keep it in your
purse for now while you play, but before you go home, put the money in your
shoes so no one can get them.”
Dao bobbed her head in agreement as she ran out the door to the lake.
*****
When they got back to the house, Ma immediately began getting all of the
items out of the grocery bags and arranging them in order they would be needed
to be mixed together. She got out the almond paste, the flour, the melon candy,
the sesame seeds, the pork, the molasses and the egg yolks in vinegar.
First she mixed the almond paste and the flour to make the dough. Dao
could see it was somewhat difficult for Ma to mix the dough together with one
hand, so she helped. Then Ma put together the melon candy, the sesame seeds,
the pork and molasses. She added some brown sugar to make it even sweeter.
After the initial mixing was done. Ma got out her moon cake mold and
began pushing the dough into it. Dao again helped since it was proving difficult
to do. Then she put the vinegar egg yolks into the center surrounding them with
the pork and molasses mixture. After that, Dao helped Ma with lining the bottom
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of the molds with the almond paste dough. Then they were ready to bake in the
oven.
“For how long should we put them in the oven. Ma oi?” asked Dao as she
set the timer.
“For 20-30 minutes,” said Ma confidently.
They put the moon cakes in the oven and then they waited.
* * * * *
Dao played by the lake all day until dusk when Aunt Thu called her in for
dinner. By the time her mother arrived at Aunt Thu’s house, Dao had
remembered her curfew all too late. Thankfully, since Aunt Thu was present, Dao
knew her mother wouldn’t scold her too harshly.
“Hello Thu, how are you?” asked Nham.
“I ’m fine. Although this time of year with the Moon Festival around the
comer is always busy what with the autumn harvest. How are you and Tuc
doing?”
“We’re well, but as you said, it’s busy around this time of year.”
Dao alternated between looking up at her aunt and at her mother while
each of them spoke. Even though they weren’t saying anything bad, they seemed
Truong, 161
to be addressing each other in formalities, as if they were acquaintances, not
sisters.
“How is the harvest this year for you, Thu?”
“Well, this year, our rice crop has done very well, but the cassava plants
didn’t do as well. There was too much rain and it flooded the roots.”
Aunt Thu would shift between sticking her chin up at mother where Dao
could only see the arch of her neck when she spoke, to looking down at only Dao
while not quite eyeing her. All the while keeping her gaze steady at her aunt, her
mother would switch between softly combing Dao’s hair with her fingers and
reprimanding taps on her shoulder with her index fingers. The latter was always
her mother’s signal that there would be a larger scolding ahead after either the
guests would leave or when they would leave a guest’s home.
“Anyhow Thu, it was good to see you. It’s time that Dao and I should be
getting home.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll see you at the night of the Moon Festival as always.
And for you Dao, I’ll leave some extra mung bean moon cakes out just for you.”
“Thank you, thank you. Aunt Thu!” Dao loved the sweet mushy mung
bean ones with the salty dried orange egg yolk center — the ones that Dao
would’ve eaten every day of the year if she could.
Just before leaving. Aunt Thu reminded Dao, “Put the money in her shoes
so no one can get them.”
Truong, 162
Dao complained, “But the coins would hurt my feet during the walk
back.”
“There, there, Dao, I’ll put the money in my shoes instead so they won’t
hurt your feet.”
During the dark journey home, Nham began yelling, “Dao oi, did I or did I
not tell you to come home before curfew? Hmm? Hmm?”
Dao quietly responded with, “You did. I’m sorry Ma oi.”
“It’s too late for sorry now, don’t you think?” said Nham still angrily.
Now it was too dark to see anything beyond what the dim, yellow porch
lights lit from the houses along the dirt path that led to the way home. Dao pulled
her mother’s cotton blouse to rush her, but her mother said that as much as she
wanted to, she couldn’t walk very fast because of the coins in her shoes. She was
afraid that if she hurried, the heavy pressure of the money would snap the soles of
her shoes in half. Then, there wouldn’t be anything to hide the money with. The
pockets are always the first place people would look for that sort of thing. Plus, if
she were to walk quickly, the coins would make a crunching clatter that would
attract others.
The humidity grabbed unto Dao and her mother’s clothes, making them
damp as they walked with heavy footsteps. Just ahead, they saw three skinny
silhouettes standing in front of a porch light. One was busy drinking beer from a
bottle, while the other two seemed to be facing them. Dao looked up at her
mother expectantly, silently, as if her eyes would communicate her fear.
Truong, 163
Nham whispered low to her, “Walk calmly, at as normal a pace as you can
possibly manage.”
“STOP!” yelled a young male’s voice as he fired his pistol into the air.
Dao dropped down as if the bullet would fall on her head like a bomb.
Nham pulled her up as the two men came over. Both men were dressed in dark
green uniforms. Each carried a Viet Cong helmet in one hand, and a pistol in the
other.
“What are you doing at this hour?” asked the man who fired.
“My daughter and I went to visit my sister,” said Nham coolly.
“You went to visit the Americans, you say?” asked the soldier
menacingly.
“I said my SISTER, not the Americans. You misheard me.”
“I did NOT mishear you. Did I mishear her Bach?”
The second soldier smiled, knowing where this was going, while Dao
watched with her eyes wide with fear.
“No, she said she was visiting the Americans.”
“You know what this means, don’t you? We’re going to have to search
you and bring you into Viet Cong custody,” the first soldier said smugly.
While the two soldiers took turns groping at Nham’s chest and in between
her legs, Dao’s eyes were fixated at her mother’s shoes. The coins would be
gathering up an unbearable heat, nestled in the arch of her feet. The dong notes
would be thoroughly smashed into crumpled, pointed folds that would be poking
Truong, 164
at her mother’s heels, jabbing her to fight back. If one fold decided to poke
through the soles of shoes, they’d both be done for. She winced at what would
happen if the soldiers found the money that her mother had been hiding all this
time.
“This is ridiculous! You’re taking in a woman and child? My husband is
a respected teacher here! We have no associations with the Americans! You’re
just causing trouble because you’re drunk!” exclaimed Nham.
The soldiers stiffened, standing up straight. Holding onto the end of his
pistol, the first soldier struck Nham’s face with the pistol’s handle. Nham
stumbled to the side, almost knocking over Dao. After a moment of stunned
pause, the second soldier followed suit and hit Nham again. They repeated the
routine, gaining momentum and speed in between each strike as if in the rapture
of some intricate dance. Dao covered her ears and kept looking down at her
mother’s shoes. She didn’t want to look up at her mother’s face for fear of
witnessing what her mother might look like when the soldiers finally hit with one
strike too many.
“There! Do we look drunk to you? W e’re hitting you pretty well, aren’t
we? AREN’T we?” shouted the first soldier.
“Yes! Yes! Please stop now! Please! W e’ll go quietly!” sobbed Nham.
At her cries, the third soldier stopped drinking his beer and came up from
the front of the house.
“What’s going on here?” asked the third soldier.
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“Nothing, Vu. Relax and get back to your drinking. W e’re just teaching
this traitor whore a lesson for betraying her country,” said Bach.
The third soldier got up close to Nham. Squatting down to look at her, he
lifted up her face to his to get a good look. He squinted.
“Mrs. Dao?” asked the third soldier.
Dao’s mother looked as if she saw the moon fall from above her.
“Y es...” she said.
“It’s me, Vu Nguyen. I was a student of your husband’s. I had dinner at
your house a couple years ago after Mr. Dao had tutored me.
“Oh, Vu. I didn’t recognize you in the dark. Aren’t you still in school?”
“I quit to help make Vietnam independent,” said Vu, lifting his chin
proudly. When he looked back down at them, the man didn’t look much older
than Dao. Actually, now that Dao got a good look at him, she realized that he
wasn’t a man at all. He was a boy. A boy that might’ve been an older brother
with whom she might’ve played by the lake across from her Aunt Thu’s house.
An older brother who might’ve had extra toy soldiers she could’ve played with.
An older brother who might’ve shown her how to make those soldiers land
without crashing.
“You know, Tuc always spoke well of you,” said Nham softly.
“The same could be said about you,” Vu replied.
To the other two soldiers, Vu told them, “Let this woman and her child go.
They’re no threat to us.”
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Looking ashamedly at the dirt road, the other two soldiers reluctantly
agreed to let Dao and her mother go. Dao helped her mother stand up and clung
onto her all the way home. When they arrived back, Dao’s father fell upon them
with a heavy artillery of questions, asking what in Buddha’s name had happened
to Nham’s face, where had they been, why they had been out so late, what took
them so long. Nham explained to him the events of the evening, covering up the
loan to her sister. Dao went to her room, defeated by the events of the day. After
ripping off the parachutes of each of her men, she ceremoniously tossed and
abandoned her toy soldiers, one by one, into the trash bin. They lay in the bin
mindlessly mangled, like casualties of war. She couldn’t even stand the
housewives or the ducks. They, too, seemed invisibly stained. Solemnly, she
turned her back to them and surrendered to her bed.
* * * * *
When the twenty minutes were over, they took out the moon cakes and
placed them on the kitchen table to cool. Once they were cool, they took the
moon cakes out of their molds. The grape design from the molds on most of the
moon cakes looked cracked or distorted. The inner filling of the moon cakes had
expanded too much and broke the outside body of the shell.
Ma, crushed, said, “They look ugly this year.”
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Dao, trying her best to comfort her said, “It doesn’t matter what they look
like. It’s what they taste like that counts. And your moon cakes always taste
great.”
Ma, touched, “You’re right as always, Dao.”
Dao, smiled back and said, “I’m right as always? Can I get that in writing
please?”
“Fine. I’ll sign you up a contract,” said Ma playing along.
“Good, you do that then. Say, Ma oi, I know it’s not the Moon Festival
yet, but do you mind if I try one moon cake for the heck of it?”
Ma, sounding pleased and flattered, said, “Why, of course. You really
want to eat them?”
Dao responded, “Of course 1 do. Even though they’re cracked a little, the
crust still shines likes the sun, and the filling that bubbled out still looks nice and
gooey.”
Ma smiled proudly and then said, “Well then, help yourself. Maybe cut a
quarter for me too then. But save the best looking one for Minh if he comes by.”
Dao doubted that Minh would, but said nothing. She cut one of the uglier
moon cakes into quarters. Saving the other two quarters for Phuong and Mai
whenever they came home, she gave one quarter to Ma and then kept one for
herself. Knowing that her mother was intently watching, Dao took a nice, large
bite out of the moon cake and gave a soft moan of pleasure. It was actually quite
good still despite the outside deformities.
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“This is delicious Ma oi. Your best moon cake yet,” said Dao.
“You’re just saying that,” said Ma.
“No, it’s really delicious,” said Dao.
“Thank you Dao, that means a lot,” said Ma.
“You’re welcome Ma oi,” said Dao.
“And now you know the recipe for the future,” said Ma quietly pleased.
The pregnant pause returned as Dao said nothing and savored another bite
of her mother’s moon cakes.
Truong, 169
The Vietnam Trip
The trees were bent like a rice planter’s back. Quivering softly in the
wind, they made the sounds of a drawn out hush as if to soothe their pain. As she
rode in the back seat of the cyclo heading into the city, Anh wondered what
horrors they had to have seen in the last days before the fall that they still had to
quiet themselves. Grainy, sepia colored images of beheaded babies dropped from
planes, shoeless children walking on the shrapnel covered roads, mothers being
shot execution style as the dull green army tanks rolled in, collided into Anh’s
mind.
Smashed against Anh’s right hip, her daughter Kim was absorbed in
taking a barrage of photos of the surrounding scenery with her digital camera.
Once they entered Saigon, Anh felt herself cradled by the growing familiarity of
its fierce noise. The crunching sound of her cyclo driver’s peddling over the
gravel and the rhythmic thuds of the jostling luggage behind her bled into the
violent buzz of city clamor: the frantic chiming of bicycle bells, the steady gasps
of exhaust from the scattered mopeds, the lazily warning honks of either an old
tourist van or the rare, ritzy government Mercedes. As she looked at how
crowded the streets were with such throbbing life, she remembered Saigon on the
day her family and she had abandoned it thirty years ago on the eve of its fall.
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Not even the thieves had stayed to loot the remnants of the barren, broken stores
as the family had passed through the naked streets to head towards the harbor.
The city was dead then, and everyone was too afraid to stay for its burial.
All these years, Anh had carried with her a sense of bound guilt and
nostalgia for Vietnam that had tugged at her lungs. Although she was grateful for
her life in the States, she had never fully gotten over her initial feelings of being
their pitied guest. English words still jabbed at her throat when she spoke them
while the Americans, even her own daughter, would patiently patronize her with
grammar and word corrections. Even after thirty years, she still thought and
dreamed in Vietnamese.
* * * * *
As the cyclo driver peddled towards the hotel, Kim couldn’t put down her
camera for one second without missing something that she thought captured some
aspect of Vietnam. A water buffalo grazing in the rice paddies. A woman
carrying a pole on her shoulder with two banana leaf baskets of rice hanging on
each end. The hunched, protruding spine of the cyclo driver, the sweat lining his
tan neck. A man with saucer-sized sunglasses asleep in a hammock in the middle
of a busy sidewalk. Three half naked boys dangling down a leafless tree, hooking
their arms like monkeys in a barrel. Everything here seemed so exotic, raw even.
She looked at the blanket of tan faces and black hair. Kim was unused to the sight
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of so many Asians, not just Asians in general, but Vietnamese, her people. She
was so used to being a forgotten fraction of the dominant culture that she had long
since merged her Vietnamese heritage with the Asian experience to be a part of a
marginally larger group. Even then, she still felt like she lived on the branches of
acceptance. Her Vietnamese self would never be accepted as the norm in the
States. She kept darting her head from one side of the cyclo to the other to catch
everything. This was exactly the Vietnam she had imagined from her mother’s
stories: a place so pure and thick with a sense of self that with one breath of it, she
would know her dormant half instantly.
* * * * *
After Anh and Kim had finished the obligatory shopping for family back
home during the first few days, they saw the former American Embassy where
Anh’s father used to work as a translator. Even though he loved teaching better,
translating for the Americans brought in more money for his wife and four
daughters. It wasn’t like the school room, where the fan in the ceiling only
worked to spread waves of the hugging, damp heat around the room, where the
kids dipped their French bread into the yellow chicken curry from the street
vendors and let the drips stain the desk with a soupy grease. She remembered
how as a girl, she’d climb out the window and onto the roof of one such
classroom, the French bread in her mouth, when the teacher had left the class to
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eat and study. After helping two girls from her class up on to the roof, they’d
wait for any passing nuns from the All-Girl Catholic school down the road. As
soon as one of them came close, they’d pelt her with the hard nubs of their loaves.
If the nun seemed oblivious, they’d escalate the harassment by flipping up the
back end skirts of their cotton white ao dais over their heads and held them down
the sides of their faces as if they were nun habits. The skirts weren’t very wide
however, so it went down only to just below the ear even when they held the very
tips of the skirt. They probably looked more like ancient shepherds than nuns.
As they toured the former Embassy, Anh felt deflated at the sight of a very
bland and blue Conference room that now took the place of the Immigration
offices where her father had worked. Instead of the crowded rows of rectangular
desks, which held large approval stamps with knobbed handles and neatly stacked
papers a foot high, all she saw now was one lone, long table in front of a
whiteboard, fake palm trees tackily stuck in the comers of the room, and an
outdated slide projector in the center. Since the Embassy was now the U.S.
Consulate, only Public Affairs meetings were ever held here.
After the Embassy tour, the two went to Ben Thanh Market where the
environment immediately felt recognizable again, from the salty kelp scent of
dried squid sold in the outdoor half of the market to the technicolor spectrum of
collared ao dal gowns in the indoor market. They studiously admired all the
stands that held adorably polished wooden dolls with round heads and ebony hair
wearing plastic ceremonial dresses, with intricate scenes of lime green palm trees
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by turquoise ponds and jumping pink fish, painted on their tiny bellies.
Remembering how she used to have pretend wedding ceremonies with them when
she was younger, Anh decided to buy a pair for sentimentality’s sake. When she
asked for the price, the woman told her 15,000 dongs. Anh knew that it was
probably twice the actual selling price, but she didn’t care to bargain over
lowering it a measly 50 U.S. cents. Nevertheless she threw in some reproachful
Vietnamese curses, such as “Your mother!” to jab at the woman playfully. The
woman grinned and asked if she was from the States. Surprised, Anh said yes,
how’d she know? “No one from here says ‘Your mother’ anymore. Plus, your
accent,” she said, “it sounds American.”
*****
Kim couldn’t stop her gawking admiration of the craftwork in the Ben
Thanh market. There were detailed Wright brothers’ planes, helicopters and
convertibles made from cut, flattened and reshaped Coke cans where the wings
and wheels really moved. Hanging on the walls of the indoor portion of the
market were realistic paintings of horses, straw huts, beautiful women playing
with a braided stream of their black hair sitting romantically by a blushing cherry
tree in bloom. Her favorite painting was of the little boy in bleached cotton slacks
playing a reed instrument on top of a water buffalo. She looked up close to check
the price of the item, and was amazed to find that the picture wasn’t painted at all.
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but rather done in what must’ve been some blindingly painstaking embroidery.
The water buffalo alone was a chocolate blend of at least ten different alternating
shades of brown and grey threads to give it a muscled depth. She found rosewood
lacquerware with etched scenes from Vietnam’s two thousand year mythical
history done in mother of pearl — everything from the Trung sisters sitting on top
of an elephant shooting arrows at the oncoming Chinese with their fabled tubular
breasts flung over their shoulders to an image of the sea god and the air goddess
sitting on land with their first hundred children of Vietnam naked in between
them. She had always liked the myth about the birth of Vietnam. It felt somehow
fitting that a country with so many harsh takeovers should be mythically
represented as a place of union in between two disparate realms. She took a photo
of it.
After the market, Anh and Kim decided to walk back to their hotel on Le
Thanh Ton street. As they came on the street adjacent to Le Thanh Ton, they saw
a young girl in an unflattering boxy pink dress sitting on a window sill with one
leg crossed beneath her, and the other leg dangling from the wall. Up close, she
had scars on her arms that looked like dried riverbeds, a puzzle of broken crevices
separating strips of glossy skin cells. “Napalm baby,” Anh whispered factually.
As they approached her, Kim realized the bottom half of the leg that she had
thought was tucked under her was actually missing. All that was there was a
rounded knob of where her knee should be. The girl cried as they approached,
please help me. I’m an orphan. Kim and Anh offered whatever extra change in
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dongs they had. After they had passed her, Kim looked back to give her a parting
smile. However, the smile died when she saw a woman come out of a Lexus
parked by the sidewalk fussing over the girl’s skirt. It looked like
she was attempting to lift it higher to show the missing leg more prominently.
She looked forward again, but this time, looking down at the floor ahead.
When Anh and Kim went to look at Anh’s old school, Anh had
accidentally passed by its street the first time around. Devoid of the blood
blossoming trees, she didn’t recognize it. When they found the street again, she
couldn’t find any of the buildings that she grew up with. The all girl Catholic
school was closed, and in its place stood a hospital. When she found her old
school, it was not as she had remembered. Now, there was a looming iron gate
that blocked them from touring the school. Kids could no longer travel to the
street vendors for lunch and the street vendors themselves were now absent. The
windows were barred by checkered wiring so that no one could climb onto the
roofs. Anh seemed to have arrived during the recess, so it made the imposing
building a bit warmer. Some children slunk themselves down in comers of the
building playing old gameboys. The girls playing in the courtyard no longer wore
the breezy white ao dais but regular clothes, and more surprisingly, there were
boys playing with them. No longer would there be the coy shyness among the
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girls about approaching boys in the streets. Here, the girls would be exposed to
them for entire days at a time. For better or worse, the gendered awe would no
longer exist. The school seemed foreign to her.
Anh felt a tight, acidic anxiousness in her chest to see her home, so they
went there next. She needed to know that cream yellow house with the French
windows and Ramputan tree in the front still had waited for her, unharmed, after
all these years. Yet, when she arrived, in its stead was a narrow three story,
garishly purple and orange inn. When she told the lady that she had previously
lived her and would like to see the back courtyard if it still existed, the lady
shooed her away. If Anh wanted to stay, she’d have to pay, the woman said.
When Anh asked the price, the woman claimed that staying at the inn would cost
three hundred U.S. dollars. Anh snorted at the cost and said that she wouldn’t pay
three hundred dollars to stay at some trashy motel. Insulted, the woman tried to
push them away from behind the counter.
* * * * *
On their last morning in Saigon, Kim and Anh walked the street of Le
Thanh Ton once again to scavenge for any souvenirs that they might bring home
for themselves. When Kim stopped by an English bookstore to pick up some
reading for the long flight home, she was shocked when the bookseller tried to
price a clearly secondhand The Quiet American at twelve American dollars. The
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bookseller had tried to shove the book into Kim’s hands even as the pages had
started slipping out from the loosely stapled bindings. Until then, Kim hadn’t
noticed before how the store owners had treated her. Some of the store owners
even tried speaking to her in broken English with their “Thanks you” and “Have
happy days”.
That afternoon, on the plane, Kim reviewed her photos. While she relived
her initial awe, her mind hung on her first word that she used to describe Vietnam:
“exotic.” Her love of Vietnam did not root itself in the familiar, but the foreign.
Looking out her window, Kim saw that they were over the Pacific so far up in the
sky that the sea below was like a flat blue sheet. The lack of clouds made it hard
to tell if the plane was moving. With neither clouds nor land on the horizon, the
sky seemed like another blanket over the blue sheet of sea. They were hovering
between blues.
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The Funeral
Minh was startled, but not altogether surprised at the news. He had
received a message from his mother on his voice mail. She was hysterical. Ba
Nham had passed away suddenly in the night. She had suffered from another
stroke; this time there was no miracle that could save her like the last. He sat
stunned at the suddenness of it. After the last stroke and her following survival,
he thought Ba oi was almost indestructible. She had survived so much more than
just a measly little stroke could throw her way: two wars; a move from the north
to the south of Vietnam, starting completely over; a move to an entirely different
country where she didn’t know the language. Still, she was extremely old. She
had lived to a ripe old age of 89 years. And at least she had passed away quietly,
peacefully, without any pain.
The funeral was to be two days from now, with a wake and viewing
session following for the next day. Minh was proud of himself of how well he
was taking it all in, now that he had time to digest everything.
* * * * *
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“Remember, greet your Grandmother with the words, ""Chao BaC said
Nguyet to Minh.
“I know, I know. You’ve told me a million times,” said Minh getting
annoyed.
The van pulled up with everyone inside. This would be the first time he
had ever met any of his relatives from Vietnam. Minh’s father Bob got out and
then he slid back the passenger door to let the rest out. There were almost a dozen
people getting out of the van. How would they fit them all in their house? Would
he have to give up his room?
The first one to exit out was an old lady. She looked about 60. This
must’ve been Ba. The next an elderly man about ten years older, followed by a
pregnant woman and a man helping her out. The pregnant woman must’ve been
Aunt Anh whom his mother told him was expecting. There was a teenage girl
who followed them. Then there was a woman, a young toddler who must’ve been
his little cousin Tung, and a man whom he guessed was Tung’s father.
The whole family came to the door. Ba came to the door first.
“Chow Ba, ” said Minh nervously.
""Chao Ba. Ngoan lamC Ba said, correcting him as she laughed. Minh
resented her mockery.
The rest of the family entered the house and gaped their mouths open in
awe over the size. Minh wondered what the size of their homes must’ve been like
in Vietnam if they thought their home was big.
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In Vietnamese, his mother spoke something to the family. The family
looked relieved.
Minh asked his mother, “What did you say to them?”
“1 just told them that 1 knew they must be tired so 1 told them where they
could all sleep. Ba, Ong and Dao are sleeping with you in your room,” said
Nguyet.
“Why do 1 have to share my room?” complained Minh.
“Because there’s not enough room if you don’t,” said Nguyet.
“It’s not fair. 1 didn’t ask them to come,” said Minh.
“For goodness’ sake, Minh. They’re your own family. You should be
more welcoming,” said his mother.
“Fine, fine,” said Minh.
That night, Ba, Ong Tuc and Dao all slept in Minh’s bed along with Minh.
Even though it was a queen sized bed, it still was an extremely tight fit for
everyone. Again, he resented the fact the family had suddenly just came up from
nowhere and crashed into his life. He especially resented how instead of showing
gratefulness, they mocked him, like when his grandmother corrected him. She’d
have to pay.
The next morning Minh woke up early with the rest of the adults to
observe where Ba sat to drink her coffee. When she got up to go to the bathroom,
he snuck in when no one was looking and placed tacks with the needles pointing
upwards on her seat.
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Ba returned to her seat. She sat on the tacks. She immediately sat up and
made a small yelp. Victory.
“What’s the matter. Ma oi?” asked Nguyet in Vietnamese.
Ba looked down the hall to where Minh was hiding. She made direct
contact with his eyes. There seemed to be a tiny look of hurt in them, as if she
had been betrayed.
“Oh nothing,” said Ba casually.
“What are those tacks doing on your seat? Chet cha, it must be one of
Minh’s cruel pranks again” said Nguyet. Then in English, she spoke angrily,
“Minh oi, did you place these tacks on Ba oi’s seat?”
Minh came out of his hiding place to respond. Sheepishly, he said, “No, I
didn’t.”
Then Ba spoke in Vietnamese again, which Minh didn’t understand. Was
she ratting him out? He expected his mother to spank him next, or to slap his
hands. He looked down and closed his eyes in preparation for the punishment for
his prank.
“Well, it looks like Ba said she knocked over the tacks in her seat when
she left to go to the bathroom. She says it wasn’t you. I can believe her, can’t
I?,” said Nguyet, still suspiciously.
“Yes, yes, I saw her knock them over,” said Minh nervously. He looked at
Ba oi again in gratitude. Ba smiled sadly back. There were tears in her eyes.
Minh looked away in shame.
Truong, 182
* * * * *
Minh went to work the next day as if nothing unusual had happened. And
nothing had, really. It was Ba’s time. Death was a natural stage in life. So
therefore nothing unusual had happened. At work, he mentioned nothing to his
C O workers. To do so, would’ve been fishing for pity and he didn’t care for any of
that. After lunch however, Minh went to ask his boss Diane for the two following
days off since he’d have to attend the funeral and wake.
Knocking on her office door, Minh subtly announced himself.
“Hey Diane, is it all right if I have tomorrow and the day after off?” asked
Minh casually.
“I don’t know. W e’re getting a lot of real estate property that needs to be
sold, Minh. Why do you need the two days off?” asked Diane still typing as she
talked.
“My grandmother passed away, and I need to attend her funeral and
wake,” said Minh.
Diane stopped working.
“Jesus, I’m sorry Minh. You should’ve said that right off. I would’ve
given you the days off right away,” said Diane.
“Thanks, Diane,” said Minh.
“How are you holding up?” asked Diane kindly.
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“Tm doing fine,” said Minh.
“How are you really?” asked Diane.
“Tm fine, I really am. I mean she was old. She was 89. It was just her
time, that’s all,” said Minh casually.
“Wow, you’re really taking this news well,” said Diane impressed.
“Well, I’m just trying to stay positive,” said Minh as he was leaving.
That night, after work, Minh contemplated calling his mother. He knew
she’d be in pieces right about now, as would the rest of the family. He knew that
they wouldn’t be taking it as well as he was. He hadn’t talked to anyone in the
family since the wedding. He had heard that Ba had a stroke shortly after, but he
hadn’t been contacted in time to go see her. He knew that she had recovered from
his mother’s messages, but he had been too busy with work to see how she was
doing. If there was something to regret, he regretted not seeing his Ba before she
died. After watching his usual late night comedy shows, Minh went to bed,
readying himself for the sight of seeing his family again after so many months of
silence.
* * * * *
Minh was happily watching Happy Days while Ba oi was in the kitchen.
When she came out with a sandwich with condensed milk in the middle of the
bread, Minh visibly shuttered his disgust.
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Ba said, ""AnC Then she opened her mouth and gestured her cupped hand
in a feeding motion towards it to indicate that it was to eat.
Minh pushed the plate away from his tray. He shook his head no
vehemently. Then he heard the ice cream truck outside. His eyes lit up. Running
to where he kept his chore money, he looked hurriedly for some coins to pay the
ice cream man as Ba watched. He pawed through his wallet but to no luck. He
looked at Ba and dejectedly at the sandwich. He was about to eat the sandwich
when Ba stopped him. She got out her purse and gave him a whole dollar.
“Thank you Ba!” Minh cried as he ran out the door to chase the ice cream
man.
During mid-run however, Minh spotted an elderly woman standing by a
house. She was watching sadly as her grandson went after the ice cream man.
Minh ran back home. When he got home, he paid his Ba back the money.
Without saying anything, he took a bite out of the condensed milk sandwich.
“It’s good, Ba oi,” said Minh, surprised at himself that he’d like it.
""Minh ngoan lamC said Ba proudly.
After he ate, Ba showed him a new game. She closed all his fingers
except for his index finger. Then she opened the palm of her hand, guiding his
pointer finger to it. Minh caught onto the idea and began poking her palm. Then
she began to sing a short song that began, ""Chi chi chanh chanh...” When the
song ended, Ba closed her hand quickly, trying to grab at Minh’s hand. But Minh
was too quick for her. He pointed his finger up proudly, smiling. Ba smiled too.
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most likely proud of her grandson’s quickness. She embraced him and pecked
him a loud kiss by the ear. The sound temporarily deafened him, but he didn’t
mind. He let himself be smothered by his grandmother for the day.
* * * * *
When Minh got to Lien Hoa Temple, he knew this place was a place that
Ba oi would’ve liked. There were Poinciana trees everywhere, as well as coconut
and banana trees growing actual coconuts and bananas. He entered the temple
where the rest of the family was waiting.
Tung was the first one to greet him. “Minh, my man. I can’t believe you
made it,” said Tung as he swooped in for an embrace.
Minh hugged him. While they were hugging, Tung broke down in tears.
“Pull yourself together. It’s gonna be all right. It was her time,” said
Minh reassuringly.
“I know, man. I know. It’s ju st.. .It’s just I thought she’d outlive us all,”
said Tung.
“I know what you mean,” said Minh consolingly.
“How are you doing?” asked Tung.
“I’ve been doing all right. Carlota and I broke up though. I guess we
didn’t have that much in common beyond the bed,” said Minh.
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“Oh man. I’m sorry to hear about you and Carlota. But I meant, how are
you doing with Ba oi’s death?” asked Tung.
“I’m fine, cuz. I’m fine, really. I mean, she was friggin’ 89 years old. It
was bound to happen sooner or later,” said Minh.
Minh looked around the room. It was full of Vietnamese people whom he
had no clue were.
“Who are all these people?” asked Minh.
“They’re either distant relatives or friends of Ba,” said Tung. “You’d be
amazed at how many of them came in once they heard. One even flew in from
France.”
“Wow, I had no idea Ba was that popular. I guess all those letters she
wrote during the day paid off,” said Minh.
A little white butterfly flew in front of Minh’s face. It circled his cheek
before it had rested on his shoulder.
“Whoa, look at that,” said Minh.
“Yeah, you know that little butterfly has been following the family around
all week,” said Tung.
The butterfly eventually flew away towards the front of the prayer room.
Tung paused a moment. Then a flash of remembrance came across his face as he
grabbed something from his breast pocket.
“Oh, I almost forgot. You’re supposed to pin this black ribbon onto you
since you’re one of Ba’s family,” said Tung.
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“Aren’t we supposed to wear white cloths around our heads instead?”
asked Minh.
“Ba oi wanted us to wear these instead. It made it look less sad, she
thought,” said Tung.
“How do you know?” asked Minh.
“She wrote it in her will.”
“Goodness, she had things planned out already,” said Minh.
“I guess she knew her time was coming.”
Three lady monks walked down the aisle of the temple’s prayer room.
Everyone took to their seats. The family gathered in front of the altar where Ba’s
picture laid in front as well as some food and some lei un, prayer flowers. A
giant, golden Buddha sat in the back. Ba’s coffin was in front of it.
The three lady monks chimed a bell repeatedly. Together they chanted
something that didn’t sound quite like Vietnamese.
""Nam mo a Di Da Phat, Nam mo a Di Da PhatC they repeated an endless
number of times as they chimed the bell. Each time the bell rang, his mother and
aunts would bend forward on their knees, placing their hands and faces to the
floor in prayer. Losing his concentration, Minh looked around the room. He saw
a small boy poking his mother’s open palm. He could almost hear her sing, ""Chi
chi chanh chanhP She had kind eyes like Ba oi.
Then he looked at the photo of his grandmother. It was taken the day of
Tung’s wedding. The last time he had seen her. The last time she had seen him.
Truong, 188
he had stormily walked out of the reception and out of her, his mother’s and the
rest of his family’s life. Guilt hung over him as he thought what his grandmother
must have felt at seeing him go like that. Looking at his Ba in the coffin, he
realized that was her last image of him. There’d be no make-up; there’d be no
more happy reunion. It was all too late. As soon as he realized how much would
never be resolved, Minh began to sob. Tears streamed down his face as he shook
uncontrollably.
“There, there, it’s all right little one,” said a familiar voice.
“Oh Ma, I’m so sorry. I should’ve come to see her. To see you. I
shouldn’t have left it like that. I shouldn’t have left you like that. Please tell me
it’s not too late,” cried Minh.
“It’s not too late, ti Minh. Ba knows you. She understood. She’d be
happy now that you came when you did at least,” said Nguyet.
Minh embraced his mother, both consoling the other. Although he
couldn’t repair the ties lost to death, he could hang on to the ties to life, his
family.
Truong, 189
The Séance
They entered the small temple with tender trepidation. This was a one
shot deal, the monk had said. You only get to speak with her once after she has
gone. Mai kept muttering prayers to Buddha, God, Mohammed, or whoever was
up there that Ba would be able to speak with them today. She wanted to ask her
Grandmother so many things. Was her Grandmother happy in heaven, Niet Barf!
She wanted to ask whether or not she would get over her anxiety issues, if Ba oi
was really with her, but she was afraid to do so in front of the aunts.
As they crossed the center courtyard, Mai heard the wind blow the chimes
in the Poinciana trees above gently. A carpet of red petals covered on the
pathway to the prayer room. After removing their shoes and lighting an incense
stick each in the giant marble um in front, they went in.
In the room, there was an altar to place their items for prayer to Ba oi. A
giant, golden Buddha sat in back of it with his arms outstretched. Aunt Tuyet
placed the indigo vase of red Lei Un on it, along with a plate of miniature paper
clothes that were cut up. Aunt Anh placed her plate of fruit with the Hoa Lan
from the garden. Mai’s mother placed the bowls of rice and salt, along with the
red candles that looked like giant tubes of lipstick in front. Given no job, Mai just
Truong, 190
wavered uncertainly behind them in the aisle between the two rows of polished
wooden pews with cushions.
The old monk placed four pillows in two rows of two in front of the altar.
He spoke in Vietnamese for them to stand behind the pillows. He stood in front
of them writing in the air with an incense stick. Then he told them to pray to
Buddha to allow their mother and grandmother to speak with them, and then to
also ask for Ba to use one of their bodies as a vessel to speak. He said to keep
their eyes closed during the prayers at all times until he said to open them. He
would ask Ba Nham to show a sign of which one of the four she would chose as
her vessel.
Mai worried whether Ba oi would hear her prayer if she thought and
prayed in only English. She asked her mother.
“Ma oi, will Ba be able to hear me if I pray in English only?”
“I don’t know dear. Let me ask the monk.”
Mai’s mother asked the monk Mai’s question. The monk replied loudly and then
in English, he spoke to Mai directly, “Do not worry child, she will hear you.”
The monk knelt down in front of the altar and motioned for the others to
sit on the pillows. His hands, clasped in prayer, were the only indication for the
others to start praying as well.
Mai closed her eyes in tight concentration. She prayed to an all-
encompassing God for them to speak with Grandmother today, and to Ba oi, if she
would use Mai as a vessel to speak. She repeated the prayer again and again.
Truong, 191
However, after awhile, her concentration lagged and began to mix up the two
prayers, asking to be God’s vessel and for Ba oi to allow herself to speak with
them today.
“Open your eyes, child,” whispered the old monk.
“Ba Nham has chosen Dao to be her vessel today.”
Mai looked at her mother. She was sobbing, with her eyes closed and her
hands outspread, muttering undecipherable noises.
“Gather around her and you can start asking her your questions,” the old
monk said.
“Ma oi, what do you want to do with your ashes?” asked Anh.
No response.
“Ma oi, what do you want us to do with the ashes?” asked Tuyet.
“Ba Nham, is this question unimportant?” asked the old monk.
Mai’s mother began to sputter as if she was just beginning to talk for the
first time. In a voice shaken with sleep, she spoke, “Yes.”
Mai just stared at her mother uncertainly. She was half wondering
whether or not her mother was pulling a mean joke. Or perhaps she was doing it
out of pity to her sisters who never got to say good bye to their mother. She
didn’t know her mother’s motivation in this, but as Mai stared at her mother’s
face, the whole thing felt like a farce partly.
“Ma oi, are you happy in Niet Ban?” asked Tuyet.
“Yesss.”
Truong, 192
“Ma oi, are you sending the little butterfly to Mai and Dao?” asked Anh.
“Y esss...”
“Do you miss Mai and Dao much? Do you have a message for them?”
asked the old monk.
“Yes...Little Mouse, don’t be scared ...”
Mai froze at the phrase Little Mouse. Only Ba oi said that to her.
In Vietnamese, Mai’s mother spoke, “ ... Don’t worry, don’t be scared anymore
... You’re a good girl ... You prayed for me every night, 1 know.”
So she knew about M ai’s nightly prayers. And what’s more, she knew
about what Mai wanted to ask her without Mai having to ask.
Tears burned through M ai’s eyes as she flew herself upon her mother.
“Ba oi, i f s you. Chau yeu Ba /am.”
“Ba cares for you very much too.”
Mai cried all the harder as she clung to her mother. She rocked back and
forth, cradling herself.
“Ma oi, please forgive me for all the times 1 yelled at you,” sobbed Tuyet.
“Don’t be silly now.”
“Ma oi, who do you see in heaven? Do you see Ngoc? Your parents?
Our brothers and sister?”
“They’re here today, somewhere else tomorrow.”
“Ma oi, do you have any last wishes?”
At that, Mai’s mother opened her eyes with a dazed look.
Truong, 193
“Ba Nham wants to see us, is that right?” asked the old monk.
No response.
A sudden alertness, like a switch, flipped over M ai’s mother’s eyes.
“She’s gone,” she said simply.
Mai grabbed her mother’s fingers. They felt like icicles.
“It’s so cold,” Dao said.
“That’s because your mother was drawing energy from you to speak with
us,” the old monk said. “Your Grandmother must be staying near you in order to
guide and protect you. She must be trying to give Mai the strength Ba Nham
thinks she needs.”
At this, Mai panicked. Ba oi was staying behind to guide her? Did that
mean she wasn’t going to Niet Ban?
“Do you remember anything Mom?” asked Mai curious.
“1 remember seeing Ba oi. It was like she was holding onto me close. It
was yellow all around us.”
“You don’t remember us saying anything though, or that you were saying
something?” asked Tuyet.
“No. 1 remember hearing loud voices as if three television sets were
blaring out in my head, but that’s all.”
Mai began to cry uncontrollably again. It really was her Ba oi who came
through to speak to her. For a few brief minutes, she had her Ba. And then she
lost her again. The second loss was too much for her.
Truong, 194
The old monk came up to them. “It’s time to burn the paper clothes as an
offering to Ba Nham. We must pray for strength to Mai so that Ba Nham will see
that Mai is stronger and be able to go to Niet Ban in peace.”
Carrying a bronze um, the monk signaled for one of them to carry the
plate of paper clothes outside into the courtyard. Once outside, he put the paper
clothes into the bronze um. He got a lighter out from under his robes and lit the
paper clothes, one of every color of the rainbow, on fire. He then lit some incense
and handed a stick to each person present.
“Go ahead and pray for strength. Then go ahead and pray that your
Grandmother will go to Niet Ban,” he told Mai.
After the buming ceremony, they all left the temple in bittersweet tears.
Since Dao was in no condition to drive, Tuyet drove the car home to Dao’s place.
“You know, we never asked Ba oi if she was happy wherever she was,”
Mai said forlomly. She hated herself for not thinking to ask her most important
question. She hated that she had stricken herself numb at the most crucial
juncture like a deer caught in headlights.
“You know, when 1 saw Ba oi, she was smiling. She looked very happy.
So don’t worry dear, 1 think she’s fine,” Dao reassured her.
* * * * *
The next day, Mai sat at home alone doing her homework. She still hadn’t
gotten used to the aftemoons alone in the house. She was still so used to hearing
Ba oi shout on the phones to one of her many friends in either California or
Truong, 195
Texas, hearing the scratch of her pen as she wrote letters to relatives in Vietnam
or to listening to the pirated Vietnamese dubbed soap operas that Ba oi loved
watching. The absence of those sounds, of any sound, was Mai’s loss of Ba made
palpable. She remembered the countless times when she wished Ba oi could be
quiet so she could concentrate on her homework. Now she couldn’t concentrate
without those noises.
Mai thought about what happened at the séance yesterday. Ba was really
around her, guiding her, protecting her. She felt a bit safer knowing that, but at
the same time, she worried that Ba was staying back because of M ai’s anxiety
problems about going outside. Mai had to be strong now, not just for herself, but
for Ba. She vowed to herself that she wouldn’t let her fears get the best of her.
But she had to take small steps. She’d start right now.
Mai put all of her homework into her backpack. She left a note for her
mom to let her know that she was out. She locked the door and with hope in
hand, walked to the park three blocks down that she knew would be empty.
Truong, 196
The Death Anniversary
Everyone was at Ba’s death anniversary. Everyone. M ai’s mother had
made sure of it. Even Minh was here. Ever since the funeral, he had been
spending a lot more time with the family. The whole family actually had been
spending a lot more time with each other. Ba would’ve loved it. Mai was sure
that wherever Ba oi was right now, she was indeed loving the fact that the family
had become closer again. It was what Ba had always wanted.
After hanging out with her cousins in the living room for a bit, Mai went
into the kitchen to help out her mother and aunts cook for the death anniversary
feast. This time, they were cooking all of Ba’s favorites: catfish and lemongrass
soup, salted pork chops with hot peppers, egg omelette stuffed with glass noodles
and mushroom,/7/zo, banh xeo, goi cuon, and hot vit Ion. For the family, they
added some spring rolls as well.
“Good Mai, you’re here. Help me roll the spring rolls. I’ve never been
good at that,” said Dao.
“All right. Ma oi,” said Mai.
Mai began rolling the pieces of shrimp with the pork, rice vermicelli,
chives and lettuce in rice paper that she had previously dipped into a bowl of
Truong, 197
water. A tiny little white butterfly flew in front of M ai’s face and landed on her
hand.
“Ma oi, look! The little butterfly is here again!” exclaimed Mai.
“It must be Ba oi looking to see how w e’re doing with the food,” said
Aunt Nguyet.
“Maybe she just wants to show us that she’s with us in spirit,” said Mai
thoughtfully.
“That’s a nice thought, little one,” said Dao.
""Chet cha, I forgot to buy some nuoc mam for the banh xeo,” said Aunt
Tuyet.
“Don’t worry, you stay here. I’ll drive to the Asian Market to buy it,” said
Mai assuredly.
“Are you sure, little one?” asked Dao somewhat doubtful.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Ma oi,” said Mai confidently.
Mai got her keys and went out the door. Once at the Golden Lion Asian
Market, Mai took her time watching all the people in the market. It was full of
little old Vietnamese ladies like her Ba oi. They all dressed in the same black
polyester pants that they had probably made by themselves, just like her Ba did.
Some wore the Vietnamese rice paddy hats, while others wore scarves over their
heads. All of them wore jelly slippers of varying colors, from magenta to grey.
Their blouses were plain white, grey or brown. A few had Asian designs on them
but not many.
Truong, 198
Snapping back into focus on her task, Mai looked for the sauces aisle.
However, all the aisle listings were in either Vietnamese or Chinese. She would"
have to ask one of the old ladies to help her.
""Chao Ba"' said Mai to an old lady in the aisle.
""Chao ch a u f said the elderly woman.
The old woman was wearing a pearl strand of glasses holders around her
neck. If Ba were still alive, Mai would’ve bought that for her as a gift. Ba loved
pearls and she was always losing her glasses. The combination of the two
would’ve been perfect.
In broken Vietnamese, Mai spoke, “Please help. Need nuoc mamC
The elderly woman responded, “It’s in the second aisle, to your left child.”
""Cam on, Ba," said Mai as she left.
Mai went to the second aisle, to the left. She found the nuoc mam soon
enough. After paying for it, she drove back. Thinking of the old woman, her eyes
began to tear up a bit. She couldn’t remember when she last had the chance to say
hello or thank you to her grandmother in Vietnamese.
Mai entered back into the house with the nuoc mam.
“I’m back,” Mai said.
“Perfect, your aunt just finished making the banh xeo. How was the trip?”
asked Dao, sounding concerned.
“It was fine. Ma oi,” said Mai reassuringly. “Although I saw an old lady
there who was just like Ba. It made me miss her a bit,”
Truong, 199
“I know little one. I hate going to that Asian Market because I always see
a sea of little old ladies looking just like Ba oi,” said Dao.
“Food’s ready,” cried Aunt Anh.
The aunts and M ai’s mother all put the food together, each dish in a small
bowl, in front of Ba’s altar in the living room. On the altar stood a picture of Ba
on the beach, on Tung’s wedding, a small rice bowl full of uncooked rice holding
some incense, two cherry red candles that were lit on both sides of Ba’s photo,
and a vase full of blossoming Royal Poinciana branches.
“Everyone sit down and pray for Ba oi,” said Dao.
The aunts and Ma all sat up directly in front of the altar, while all the
grandchildren, including Mai, sat behind them.
In unison, the four daughters of Ba oi prayed outloud in Vietnamese,
“Dear Ma oi, please accept this food as a token of our respect. Please rest in Niet
Ban, and be happy and peace with all of your loved ones who have passed on.
Please rest with Buddha and let him guide you.”
After the prayer ceremony was over, the aunts took down the food and
reheated it for a bit. Then they placed it on the table.
“Lunch is served!” cried Dao.
The aunts, Mai’s dad Jack and Uncle An all came to the dining room table
to eat while all the cousins ate outside in the living room watching TV.
While the cousins were eating, they began to reminisce about Ba oi.
Truong, 200
“Say,” said Minh, “do you remember when Ba oi used to stuff us with
maraschino cherries from the grocery store?”
“Yeah, I remember. There’s a photo of Mai in her high chair with about
fifteen stems of maraschino cherries on her tray,” laughed Tung.
“Hey, I don’t remember that,” Mai said defensively.
“Well of course not, dummy, you were like two,” said Van.
“She also used to always make those condensed milk sandwiches for us,”
said Kim fondly.
“It’s a wonder that our teeth didn’t rot from cavities with all the sweets
that she used to feed us with,” said Minh.
They sat there eating and reminiscing some more about good times with
Ba. The times she walked with them to the park. The times she’d call them
before a trip to wish them a safe journey. The times when she made a giant tent
in the backyard for the grandchildren to sleep in. The time Ba oi took her
citizenship test and was so nervous because she had never taken a test before in
her life. She was so cute on the rare times she was worried like that. Usually it
was on such small things, like whether or not the family would have a safe flight,
or if someone was late for even a few minutes, it was whether or not they had
gotten into an accident.
Once the meal was over, the aunts and all the cousins helped to clean up
the mess. After cleaning up, they all hung out in the living room. Needing a tiny
break from all the festivities, Mai went into Ba’s room to collect herself. Her
Truong, 201
mother had kept the room absolutely the same. She could almost feel her
grandmother’s presence as she was in the room. Sitting down on her Ba’s bed,
she looked at all the old photos on the stand. There was one of Ba and Ong
standing in front of the waterfalls in Oregon. It was shortly after their fiftieth
anniversary. Then there was a photo of the whole family, minus Minh, in Tung’s
wedding. Another one stood showing Ba in Yosemite sitting by a squirrel with a
mischievous grin on her face. It was that playful, childlike smile that she would
remember about her Ba oi the most. Next to the photos was Ba oi’s small little
wallet. Remembering how Ba oi used to like keeping the fortunes from her
fortune cookies, Mai looked to see which ones Ba had kept over the years. When
she looked in it however, she found it empty except for a small lottery ticket dated
the week before Ba oi had passed away. Mai took it and hurried out of the room.
“Say, look at what I found,” said Mai.
“W hat’s that?” asked Dao.
“Ba’s last lottery ticket,” said Mai.
“It probably lost,” said Tuyet.
“Never know until you check it,” said Anh.
“Let’s check it, for the heck of it,” said Minh.
The family went into M ai’s room as Mai went on the computer to check
the old lottery listings on a website that she used to use for Ba when Ba was still
alive. Since the date was so far back however, the search was extremely slow.
Everyone grumbled for a bit.
Truong, 202
“Really, you should consider getting DSL or Cable sometime. Aunt Dao,”
complained Minh.
Then, after a few moments, the results appeared.
A pregnant pause ensued.
Dao then asked, “Well, what does it say?”

Abstract (if available)

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Asset Metadata

Creator Truong, Jennifer (author)

Core Title Between Worlds: A short story collection

Degree Master of Professional Writing

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag language, literature and linguistics,OAI-PMH Harvest

Format application/pdf (imt)

Language English

Contributor Digitized by ProQuest (provenance)

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c38-297968

Unique identifier UC11301030

Identifier EP61500.pdf (filename),usctheses-c38-297968 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier EP61500.pdf

Dmrecord 297968

Document Type Thesis

Format application/pdf (imt)

Rights Truong, Jennifer

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus, Los Angeles, California 90089, USA