by Leslie Gould
Lan shook her head. Mother frowned.
“How is Hang?” Lan made out the curve of her daughter’s body in the dim light of the open door.
“She’s been asleep all afternoon. Where is Binh?”
“I took him to the orphanage.” Lan began to cry.
“Now, now,” Mother said. “It’s for the best. Now he will have a future.”
Lan pulled the tail of her shirt to her face and wiped her tears. “I know. Still, it’s hard.”
“It will get easier.”
Lan filled the pot with water from the spigot and put it on the stove. She wished she had some vegetables and beef for Hang. The girl needed more nourishment. She heard a rustling in the shack; Hang stood in the doorway.
“How are you?” Lan lit the stove.
“Better.” Her pale face was gaunt. Her shoulders hunched forward.
“Are you in pain?” There were only two pills left from the hospital. If the pain became intolerable, Lan would need to go to the pharmacy tomorrow.
“A little.”
“Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “Where is Binh?”
Lan stared at the stove. “At the orphanage.”
“Mama. Why?” Hang sounded as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. “Why did you take him again? I told you I would take care of him. I’ll quit school. Let me work.”
Hang was twelve, almost a woman. No, she was still a child. She had to stay in school. For what, Lan didn’t know. Maybe Older Brother would find Hang a job. Maybe Older Brother would find her a place in the university. “I’m sorry,” she said, rising to comfort Hang, but her daughter waved her away and walked back into the shack.
Chapter 37
He’s been sitting here since his mother left.” Bao translated the director’s words to Gen and Jeff as they walked up the stairs of the orphanage. Gen carried Mai. Jeff carried Binh’s backpack and suitcase that Lan had left in the bakery. They turned on the veranda landing, and there was Binh on the bench, staring at the floor.
“Chao em,” Jeff said, bending down. “I have something for you.” Jeff unzipped the backpack and sat beside him.
Maggie took a photo. Gen kissed the top of Mai’s head. Bao said something in Vietnamese. Binh peered into the backpack as Jeff tugged out the books, and then he smiled a little as Jeff opened Brown Bean Brown Bear and began reading the words. After Jeff finished the last page, Binh pulled the backpack onto his lap and reached in, taking out the box of animal crackers. Jeff opened the cardboard and wrapper and handed one to Binh. He smelled the cracker, then licked it and made a face. Jeff opened a fruit-snack pouch and handed a purple tiger to Binh. He smelled it, licked it, smiled, put the animal cracker back in the box and the fruit snack in his mouth. Then he pulled Goodnight Moon from the stack and dropped it on Jeff’s leg.
Jeff grabbed the book before it fell to the floor and pulled Binh onto his lap. The boy tried to turn the pages in a bunch. Jeff took his hand and showed him how to turn the pages one at a time as Binh rested his head against Jeff’s chest. Gen sat down beside them on the bench, and Binh reached out and touched Mai’s hand. Gen closed her eyes and felt the baby’s breath against her neck, her husband’s leg pressed against her own, and her little boy’s body just inches away. She listened as Jeff read the book. She breathed in the dust from the yard and listened to the yells of the children playing soccer below.
“The director says we need to go,” Maggie said. “Its time to feed the children.”
Jeff stood, holding Binh in his arms. “Can you tell him we’ll be back tomorrow?” Jeff asked Bao. Binh slid from Jeff’s arms to the floor, put the books in the backpack, and zipped it while Bao spoke to him. Then he pulled the pack over his shoulders, picked up the suitcase, and headed to the staircase. Bao called out to him. Binh responded and then kept walking. Jeff hurried after him and took the suitcase in one hand and Binh’s hand in the other. They waited for the others on the first floor veranda.
“He wants to go with you now,” Bao said, glancing at Gen and then the orphanage director. The director shook her head, took Binh’s hand, and spoke to Bao.
“She says tomorrow,” he translated. “Tomorrow morning. She’ll recheck his paperwork tonight and make sure all that is needed is Mr. Tran’s signature, plus your signatures, which we’ll do on Monday”
“We already signed for Binh,” Gen said.
“What?” Maggie asked.
“At the giving and receiving ceremony. Mr. Tran made us sign for Binh to show that we were sincere in wanting him. He thought we had paid for Mai but didn’t want Binh because he was older. Somehow having us sign for Binh made him less suspicious.”
Maggie shook her head. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“You had already left. It was bizarre, but we didn’t think it meant anything,” Gen said. God, you were looking ahead, weren’t you? Taking care of us. And I was so angry with Mr. Tran.
“I wonder what he’s up to.” Maggie tapped her foot on the tile floor. “Whatever it is, it should work to our advantage. I’ll have Bao call the Justice Department right now and double-check. We should be able to leave for Ho Chi Minh City on Sunday.”
“Boa talked to Mr. Trans assistant late this afternoon and confirmed that you signed for Binh,” Maggie said at dinner. “We should be on schedule.”
“What happens after we get to Ho Chi Minh City?” Jeff asked.
“We’ll take the children to the U.S. INS on Tuesday after we get Binh’s papers.”
Mai began to fuss. Gen stood with the baby. The evening breeze flowed through the open french doors. The waitress headed toward their table, her arms outstretched. Gen shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said to the waitress. “I’ll hold her.”
“And then how long will it take?” Jeff asked, shooting a quick glance at Gen.
He’s counting the days until harvest starts.
“I’m hoping we can all fly home by the end of the week.” Maggie’s eyes sparkled.
“Wow,” Jeff said.
Wow is right. Amazing. They’d come for one child; they’d go home with two.
“Can we try to e-mail from here?” Jeff pushed his plate to the middle of the table.
“The e-mail from the hotel is impossible,” Maggie said. “But we can go to an Internet café after dinner.”
“I want to tell Mom and Dad and your dad about Binh,” Jeff said to Gen.
She nodded.
The Internet café was the front room of a family’s home. Six computers sat on plywood tables. The mother directed Gen and Jeff to the first computer. Gen logged on to their Hotmail account and checked their in-box while Jeff held the baby There were six messages from Sharon and one from her dad. Sharon’s messages were full of information about what Don had been doing in the orchards. Gen answered the last one. Halfway through her reply the computer crashed. After rebooting, she checked her father’s note; the message was four lines:
I met a Vietnamese pastor last night. He works at a church in Southeast Portland. He wants you to visit a pastor in Saigon named Trung Duy Ho Tam. I’m praying for you. Let me know if there’s anything you need.
Love, Dad
“Do you think we’ll have time to find this man?” Jeff said as he bounced Mai.
“How can we find him? There are nine million people in the city. I think we need more information about him.”
Gen quickly e-mailed her father back, suggesting he get a phone number or an address of the man, and then she composed a group e-mail to all their parents.
E-mail in Vung Tau is hard to come by. Well e-mail more as soon as we get to Ho Chi Minh City on Sunday. We have good news and will share details later. We will be coming home with two children! Mai and Binh. We’re the luckiest parents in the world!
Love, Gen and Jeff
Binh stood at the bottom of the stairs with his backpack on and his suitcase at his side. He smiled as Jeff and Gen climbed out of the van. “Ba!” he called out to Jeff. It was e
arly evening. They’d waited all day for the call from the director. Finally, as they were having an early dinner in the hotel restaurant, the phone call came.
“He called me Ba,” Jeff said to Gen and handed her Mai. He hurried to the little boy.
Gen walked over to Jeff and Binh and knelt beside her son, balancing Mai against her shoulder. “Chao em,” she said.
He ignored her, took Jeff’s hand, and said something in Vietnamese.
Bao laughed. “He said it’s time to go. He wants to leave the orphanage now.”
Back at the hotel Gen ran bathwater for Binh while Jeff sang, “Splish splash, I was taking a bath … thinkin’ everything was all right …” as he helped Binh undress. Gen smiled. How many years had Jeff wanted to sing that song to a child? Binh started to crawl into the tub. “No,” Gen said. “It’s hot. How do you say hot in Vietnamese?” she said to Jeff frantically.
“No, no,” Jeff said to Binh.
“Nong!” Gen said, remembering from all those months ago when she’d memorized Vietnamese safety words. “It’s nong! It’s hot!”
Binh looked up, puzzled. Gen bent down and felt the water. He did the same. Gen turned the hot water down. He felt the tap water and then turned the hot water off and shook his head. He climbed into the tub and bent his head under the faucet. Gen felt the water. “It’s ice cold,” she said.
“He’s probably never bathed in warm water,” Jeff said. Mai began to cry, and Jeff walked to her crib and picked her up. Gen squeezed baby soap onto Binh’s hair; his hands flew to his scalp and began to scrub. “Come look at this!” Gen said to Jeff They both stared as Binh washed his hair and then bent under the faucet and quickly rinsed it. “Here, let me take Mai so you can wash him.” Gen thought Binh might feel more comfortable with Jeff.
Jeff grabbed a washcloth and squirted liquid baby soap onto it.
“Scrub behind his ears and all around his neck, okay? Then let’s get him dressed and go for a quick walk on the beach before bedtime.” She walked back into the bedroom and changed Mai’s diaper. In a few minutes Jeff came out carrying Binh, wrapped in a towel. “Look, Ba,” Gen said, “you’ve got a boy.”
Jeff laughed. Binh smiled. “Look, Ma,” Jeff said, nodding toward Mai, “you’ve got a baby.”
“We’ve got a family,” Gen said. She hoped Binh would continue to call Jeff “ba,” but she hoped he would call her “mama.” He already had a Vietnamese ma.
Chapter 38
The sun set as Lan walked into the yard. She’d sold cigarettes and souvenirs all day on the beach. She had searched for Truc, hoping for more goods to sell, thinking she could work into the evening, but she hadn’t found her. Regardless, she had made enough money for dinner and for Hang’s medicine, which she carried in her basket. The beach had been packed with tourists from the city and from China and Japan. Lan had seen a few Americans on the beach but not the Taylors and Binh and Mai.
She swung her yoke and baskets over her neck and onto the ground, stretching her back and then her arms and her red, raw hand. She heard a car on the road and turned her head. It was a black car. Older Brother. She walked toward the road. He climbed out and slammed the door. She bowed to him. Why had he come? She was too tired to talk with him tonight.
“Hello, Little Sister,” he said. “How are you?”
“As well as can be expected.” She swung her yoke back onto her shoulders.
“May I sit with you?”
Lan turned and walked back into the yard. Older Brother followed. “I’ve just come from Ho Chi Minh City. I saw Older Sister there, and she told me of your troubles. How is Hang?”
“She’s resting.” Had he come to help?
“Is she recovering?” Quan held his head high, his back straight.
“Yes,” Lan said. She swung the baskets back to the ground and leaned against the house.
“I’ve been thinking about you and your children. I would like to help. Hang is too old. She must stay with you, but Sister said she encouraged you to take Binh back to the orphanage, to put him up for adoption.” Older Brother clasped his hands behind his back.
Lan nodded. She didn’t want to tell him that she had.
“Don’t take him to the orphanage. I am going to adopt Binh.”
Lan slid down the wall of the shack and put her head in her hands. Adopt Binh?
“I am growing old with no children. I thought about this all the way from the city. It’s what’s best for all of us. I will have a son; Binh will have a father. He’ll go to the best school in Hanoi.” Older Brother stood over Lan.
“Who would care for him?” Lan asked, staring up at Quan.
“I would.”
“Who would care for him while you work? While you travel?”
“I’ll hire someone to help.” Older Brother’s voice rose.
A mother and a father. That was what she wanted for Binh. The pain in her stomach flared. He would take Binh to Hanoi. What is best for Binh?
She knew what was best for Binh. Today she had longed to see him, but she hadn’t worried about him once. “I already took him to the orphanage. The American couple, the ones who are adopting Mai, are adopting him, too.” Lan stood. “It’s what is best for him.”
“What does Mother think of this?”
“She supports me.”
“What about Hang?” Quan asked.
Lan bowed her head. “She is still a child. She does not understand these things.”
“Now I understand.” Hang stood in the doorway “You told me that you took Binh to the orphanage. Not that he was to be adopted. He’s going to America? With Little Sister?”
Mother came out of the shack, moving past Hang like a solemn shadow in the early night. “Lan, what’s for dinner?” Her gray hair hung loose around her face.
Irritated, Lan struggled to her feet and turned toward Mother. Can’t she think of anything besides food?
“We have a guest.” Lan leaned against the shack. Hang turned away.
“It’s me, Mother. Quan.” Older Brother bowed slightly.
“What are you doing here?” Mother squinted in the dim light.
“I came to talk to Lan. I’d like to adopt Binh.”
“Good. You should. He’s at the orphanage. Go get him.” Mother ran her fingers through her hair.
“No,” Lan said.
“What?” Mother asked.
“It’s been decided. The American couple will adopt him. I want him to go to America.”
“When he can stay with family? Blood is blood, Lan. Don’t be stubborn,” Mother said.
“Blood is blood? How can you trust Older Brother so easily?” Lan folded her arms.
“He’s my son. What did you buy for dinner?” Mother pulled her hair into a single strand and began to twist it.
“Cabbage and bean curd. He watched Father be executed. How can you forgive him so easily?” She shouldn’t be talking so boldly in front of Quan.
“I’m tired of bean curd. He saved your life.”
“My life?” Lan put her good hand on her hip.
“At the hospital. When the land mine exploded. You were all that I had left. He got the doctor to care for you that evening, not two days later,” Mother said, securing her hair in a bun.
“And then he left us, just like that.” Lan wanted to stamp her foot. “All those years he left us to fend for ourselves.”
Mother shrugged. “He wants to help you now. He’s helped me. These last few months have been much better. Don’t be so angry”
“That doesn’t mean going to Hanoi would be best for Binh.” Her hand throbbed; her stomach churned.
“Hanoi would be closer than America,” Hang said, standing in the doorway again. Lan could barely see her face in the dark. “Maybe we would get to see him.”
Lan faced Older Brother. “Would we get to see him?”
“Maybe,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I probably won’t travel to Vung Tau for my job, just to Ho Chi Minh City. I’ll have
to see how busy I am. Maybe you could travel to the north.”
Mother clapped her hands.
“How would we have the money to travel? If I had the money to travel, I wouldn’t be giving up my children.” Lan kicked at the dirt.
Older Brother shrugged. “You’ll never see Binh again if you send him to America.”
“I want to see Binh again,” Hang said, walking toward Lan.
Surely they would see Binh and Mai someday—perhaps when they were grown. Lan shook her head and put her hand around Hang’s waist. “It’s for the best, Hang. Someday you will understand. It’s what a mother does for her children. She gives them the best she can.” She had to go with her feelings; they were all she had.
“Have you forgotten?” Older Brother asked. “It’s not up to you to decide what is best. Right now, I’m the one person in all of Vietnam who can decide what’s best for Binh.”
Chapter 39
After chasing Binh on the beach, Gen and Jeff washed their feet in the footbath outside the hotel and returned to their room. Binh pulled on his Nike shoes, opened the compact refrigerator door, peered inside, and took out a container of yogurt and a box of juice. Gen opened the two. Binh smelled the yogurt and took a tiny taste with a plastic spoon. He raised his eyebrows and took another bite and then ate spoonful after spoonful until it was gone. He drank the juice in three slurps.
Jeff tried to take Binh’s new Nikes off, but the boy began to cry. “Just leave them on,” Gen said, shrugging. “Maybe when he sees that we don’t sleep in our shoes, he’ll take them off.” Jeff worked Binh’s shorts off over his shoes and then pulled his pajamas on over them too.
Gen handed Mai to Jeff, then pulled out Binh’s toothbrush and led him into the bathroom. Binh wouldn’t open his mouth. Gen got out her own toothbrush and brushed her teeth. Binh kept his mouth clenched. When she tickled his lips with the brush, he began to cry.
Jeff said to wait, that maybe they could get Bao to explain it to him tomorrow. Jeff read Binh a story, and then Binh pulled all his clothes, books, and toys out of his bags and arranged them in piles on his bed. Jeff and Gen watched, amused. Binh was oblivious to them. He dumped the car and family out of the Ziploc bag onto his mattress and then zipped the pink pull on the bag back and forth, back and forth, ignoring the toys. He giggled each time. Jeff tried to get Binh to put his head on his pillow and close his eyes.
