by Leslie Gould
She stood and walked toward the waves. The hot sun scorched her back; the sand burned her feet through the bottoms of her flip-flops. She reached the water, watched it lap against her feet. She missed Binh, she missed Older Sister, and her empty arms still ached for the baby.
Years ago on their family holiday to Vung Tau, she had played on this beach, raced through the waves, soaked in the heat of the sand and the sun and the laughter of her siblings. Now she was a middle-aged woman who couldn’t care for her children. No. She was caring for her children. She was giving them the best life possible.
“Lan!”
She turned toward the road. The glare of the sun blinded her for a moment.
“Lan!” It sounded like Older Brother. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? “I have Hang and Mother in the car. I’m taking all of you to Ho Chi Minh City.”
She shuffled toward the figure.
“We need to leave right away. Binh is already there.” Older Brother held a large envelope in his hands. “We need to sign some papers. But first I want to get the old ones from the Americans.”
Lan shook her head and stretched out her stride. “I told you I didn’t want you to adopt Binh.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Come to the city. We’ll see Binh. He’s staying at the same hotel as Older Sister. We’ll stay there too—my treat. It will be our last reunion before Cam My returns to America.”
Lan stopped in front of Older Brother and tipped her hat back on her head. “I already signed the papers. I don’t want to sign new ones.”
“Come with us,” he said, his voice softer. He put his arm around Lan.
Lan tensed at Older Brother’s touch. “I don’t think Hang is strong enough to travel.”
“She’ll be fine. The ride will be easy, and then she can rest at the hotel. She’ll be better off there than here.”
“What about Mother?” Lan took a step backward.
“She’s pleased. We’ll drive by the rubber plantation on the way,” Quan said.
Lan wanted to insist again that she wouldn’t sign new papers, but she also wanted to go to Saigon. She wanted to see Older Sister again. And Binh. But it would make it harder for him. And for Hang.
“Mama.” Hang stood at the top of the dune just below the street. “Are you coming?” She heard pleading in her voice. She wanted to go. And Mother, too. She couldn’t let them go without her. Older Brother might turn Hang further against her; he might even try to take Hang away from her to help with Binh.
“Hang and Mother already have their things. They packed for you, too,” Quan said.
She wriggled away from Older Brother’s arm and hurried up the dune toward her daughter.
Quan sat up front beside the driver. Lan sat in the middle of the backseat between Hang and Mother, and both rested their heads on her shoulders as they slept. “The rubber plantation is coming up,” Older Brother said without turning his head. He’d been going through a stack of papers.
“Mother, wake up. We’re almost to our old place.” Lan said. She had nearly said, “We’re almost home.” Home. The shack didn’t feel like home the way the plantation had, the way the land had. Mother stirred, sat up straight, and gazed through the window.
“I miss the land,” she said, reaching for Lan’s hand.
“It wasn’t ours,” Older Brother said.
“It was ours,” Mother answered.
“No. The French wouldn’t let the Vietnamese own rubber plantations.”
“But the land belonged to your father’s family.”
“The French confiscated it. They just let us manage it.” Quan looked over his shoulder at Mother.
“It belonged to us during the war,” she said.
“No. It belonged to the government of the South,” Older Brother said.
“And now?” Mother grasped Lan’s arm. “Who does it belong to now?”
“The people of Vietnam, to all of us.” Older Brother smiled.
“And that’s supposed to be better? At least when it didn’t belong to us, we were able to live on it.” Mother glared out the window.
The rows of trees whizzed by. “Slow down!” Mother cried out. The driver questioned Older Brother. He nodded. The car passed by the trees, the forlorn house. Chickens pecked in the dirt in front of it, and a small child squatted by the door. Home. The trees were tall and healthy. Lan thought of the workers cutting the trees, of the sap that bled through the bark. Caoutchouc—wood that weeps. Still the trees stayed alive, grew stronger, created more sap to be turned into more rubber. Lan gently touched her burned hand. Hang’s head slid from her shoulder. Mother began to cry. Older Brother concentrated on his paperwork.
Light bounced off the glass chandelier hanging in the center of the hotel lobby; underneath it a bouquet of flowers stood taller than Binh. Older Brother talked in a low voice with a woman in a burgundy ao dai. A group of middle-aged American men came through the lobby. Hang sat in a chair and watched tropical fish swim in a large tank. Mother had dried her tears on Lan’s shoulder by the time they’d reached the outskirts of the city. She had been like a child as they drove through the crowded streets, pointing at the shops and restaurants, exclaiming about the tall buildings, the cathedral, and the Reunification Palace.
She smiled a wide, nearly toothless grin and grabbed Lan’s hand as they stood in the lobby. “See what Quan can do for us?” she said. “Maybe he’ll take us to a fine restaurant for dinner.”
Lan looked down at their wrinkled clothes. She wondered if Older Brother would be too embarrassed to take his family out in public. Lan heard a baby cry. An American woman walked into the lobby, but it wasn’t the American woman Lan was looking for, and the baby wasn’t Mai.
Older Brother thanked the woman in the burgundy ao dai and said, “This way to our rooms.” He picked up his suitcase and nodded at Lan and Mother and then at Hang. Carrying their small bags made from woven mats, they followed him through a doorway at the far end of the lobby and down a long hallway. To their left, tropical plants and roses filled a brick courtyard.
“You must not leave your room without me,” Older Brother said. “You don’t have proper documentation to be in the city. Do you understand?” Mother and Lan nodded.
“I’m hungry,” Hang said.
“You must take me seriously, Hang. Do you understand?” Older Brother placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder for just a moment.
“Yes, Uncle.” Hang bowed her head.
“What will we do for dinner?” Mother asked, taking Older Brother’s hand.
He pulled away. “I’ll have food sent to your room.”
“Is Older Sister still here?” Lan asked.
“Yes. The investigation into her work continues. Perhaps I’ll meet with her in the morning.”
He stopped and unlocked a door. “Here is your room,” he said. Lan peered into darkness.
“Where is your room?” Mother surveyed the dark hall.
“On the fifth floor. I’ll check on you in the morning.”
Lan, Mother, and Hang tiptoed through the doorway. Gold-colored drapes let a beam of light through the window. The room held a large bed, a desk, a TV, and a rocking chair. Lan moved toward the window and pulled the cord. Outside in an alley a man in a cook’s uniform smoked a cigarette. At least ten bicycles leaned against the wall of the hotel. Two women wearing blue dresses disappeared through a door. Mother put her basket on the bed and then carefully sat down on the yellow comforter. Hang turned on the TV. Two people hit a small ball back and forth across green grass. Hang changed the channel. A beautiful woman sang in Chinese. Hang sat on the edge of the bed and smiled.
Mother stood and picked up the small basket of mangoes on the desk. Two cups and a pot of hot water and tea bags sat on a tray. Mother smiled broadly as she took it all in. “There’s a bathroom!” Lan followed her through the door with Hang right behind them.
“What is that?” Hang wrinkled her nose.
“Une toilette!” Lan s
aid.
“What are you saying?” Hang ran her hand through her hair.
“It’s the latrine. You sit on it. Do not stand on it; it may break.”
“And a bathtub!” Mother turned on the water. “How do I make it stay?”
Lan pushed down on the metal plug, which made the round post on the faucet pop up. “Like this,” she said, pleased with herself.
Mother took a bath while Lan made tea. Then Mother cut up the mangoes while Lan took a bath. Hang fell asleep on the end of the bed watching the Chinese singer.
Lan stepped out of the bathroom. “Is our dinner here yet?” She felt relaxed, at ease, for the first time in years. For a few moments she’d forgotten to worry.
“No.” Mother popped a piece of mango into her mouth.
An hour later a woman arrived with three bowls on a tray. Lan had never imagined such luxury.
A rapping on the door woke her. How long had they slept? Hang was curled at the end of the bed. Mother had moved to the floor sometime during the night.
Lan opened the door cautiously. Perhaps it was Older Brother. Would he chastise them for sleeping late?
“Let me in!” It was Cam My. Lan swung the door open. Older Sister switched on the light. “It’s so hot in here. Why isn’t your air on?” She walked to the console beside the bed and turned a knob. The air conditioner above the window began to sputter.
“Wake up!” Older Sister said to Hang, shaking her shoulder. “Where is Mother?”
“On the floor.” Lan nodded to the other side of the bed.
“She has a bed and she sleeps on the floor?”
“It was too soft for my old bones,” Mother said, sitting up.
“You’ve missed breakfast.” Cam My wore a brown skirt and an orange top.
“Breakfast?” Lan glanced toward the door.
“It’s part of staying here. You get breakfast in the morning up in the restaurant. I assume that’s how Older Brother arranged things. Maybe not, though. Where is he?”
“Fifth floor.”
Older Sister rolled her eyes. “In a much nicer room than this. I wonder if he had to beg to get the worst room in the entire hotel for you.”
“The worst? This is wonderful!” Mother said.
Older Sister smiled. “You’re right. It is wonderful.” She turned to Hang and then to Lan. “Why didn’t you tell me that you took Binh to the orphanage?”
“How could I tell you?” Lan touched Cam My’s arm.
“I never would have said anything to Older Brother about his adopting Binh if I’d known.”
Lan folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve really made a mess of things.”
“I gathered that from what Older Brother told me on the phone this morning.” Cam My sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be angry with me.”
Lan held the heel of her good hand to her forehead. “Why does he want to adopt Binh?”
Hang stood, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door,
“He seems to think he’s missing out by not having a child to raise.” Cam My crossed her legs.
“Did you tell him that?”
“I only meant to help you, Little Sister. And you should consider it. Binh would be in Vietnam.”
“I’ve had few choices in my life,” Lan said, standing tall. “If I’m going to give up my child, I would at least like to decide who will raise him.”
Older Sister pulled a cigarette from her bag and lit it. “Let’s get going. We’ll get won ton soup at the market across the street.”
“Older Brother told us not to leave our room,” Lan said.
“Why?” Cam My reached for the ashtray on the bedside table.
“We don’t have the right papers.”
“Oh, bother. No one’s going to check your papers. Older Brother just wants to keep you under his thumb.” Older Sister put the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled.
“I thought you were low on money.”
“I am. But I can still buy you each a fifty-cent bowl of soup.”
After the soup, Older Sister said she needed to check her e-mail at a nearby Internet café and asked if they wanted to go with her.
“We should get back to our room.” Lan stood from the table. “Older Brother is probably looking for us.”
“What would it hurt to be out a little longer?” Mother tugged on Lan’s hand.
“It’s just two blocks away. We’ll walk by many fine shops.”
Mothers eyes lit up as she pushed her chair back.
“Mother, what do shops matter when you can’t afford to buy anything?” Lan took a step toward the market exit.
“It’s fun to look.”
“I’d like to go back to the hotel and watch TV,” Hang said.
“But you’ll find the Internet café fascinating,” Older Sister said. “I’ll show you how to use a computer.”
Hang shrugged. “I’d rather watch TV.”
“Wait until you see how the computer works. All the kids in America have their own computers.”
Mother peered into each window as they walked along Dong Khoi Street, past shops filled with silk garments, shoes, purses, lacquerware, and carvings. Cam My took Lan’s arm. “I saw them at breakfast this morning.” She began to laugh. “Binh was his usual bouncy self. He fell off his chair trying to reach his orange juice. You can tell that the man and woman love Mai and Binh very much.”
“How was the baby?” Lan’s heart skipped a beat.
“She slept through breakfast. The woman held her.”
“Did Binh recognize you?” Lan gently swerved to avoid bumping into a man dressed in a black suit and shiny shoes.
“I don’t think so.” Cam My let go of Lan’s arm as they crossed the street. Lan held Mother’s elbow.
“Can you talk to Mr. and Mrs. Taylor tomorrow at breakfast? Find out more about them?” Lan followed Cam My as she stepped up onto the sidewalk. She steadied Mother as she took the step.
“But then Binh will recognize me.”
“But the man and woman will never know.”
“Unless Binh says something to the waiter, something like, ‘That’s my aunt. Why is she here?’ ” Cam My tripped on the broken concrete but caught herself before she fell.
“What are the chances of that?”
Older Sister pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse and lit one. “Binh very likely may see you in the hotel or on the street.”
“I’ll try to stay away from him.” Still, she hoped to catch a glimpse of him from a distance.
They walked into the Internet café, then up the stairs to a room filled with computers. Cam My pulled up a chair so that Hang could sit beside her. Mother and Lan sat behind them in a booth. The young man who sat at the desk rose and handed Older Sister an ashtray. Lan felt self-conscious. She didn’t deserve to be in the city. She bit her lip. They should be back at the hotel. What if Older Brother was angry?
Chapter 41
Jeff and Gen sat in the office of the United States INS on the top floor of the Saigon Centre Building. Binh stood at the window, facing the city.
The officer, Mr. Davis, spoke to Binh in Vietnamese. The boy answered.
“He says he’s four,” Mr. Davis said. The man wore his blond hair short.
Gen nodded. “That’s right.”
The officer spoke to Binh again. The boy hurried over to Jeff, climbed onto his lap, and then answered.
“He says his mother took him to the orphanage twice. He said they never had enough food, that he was always hungry.” Mr. Davis shuffled papers on his desk. “He’s smart. And he looks like he’s a lot of fun.”
Jeff nodded.
The officer stood and held out his hands for Mai. Gen handed him the baby. “Is she healthy?” he asked.
“Very,” Gen answered.
“Any reason to believe that they’re not siblings?”
Gen and Jeff said, “No,” in unison.
“Did you meet the birth mom?”
Together, they
said, “Yes.”
Mr. Davis looked comfortable holding the baby. “Any reason to believe she is mentally unstable?”
They shook their heads.
“Coerced into relinquishing her children?” He bounced Mai gently
They shook their heads again, and the officer handed Mai back to Gen. The phone rang, and Mr. Davis pushed a button. “Mr. Tran on line three. He says it’s urgent,” said a woman’s voice with a Vietnamese accent.
“Excuse me,” the officer said to Gen and Jeff. “I’ll be right back.” He retreated through the door to the receptionist area.
“Mr. Tran!” Gen whispered to Jeff.
“There are lots of Mr. Trans in Saigon. Remember, Maggie said it’s a very common name.”
Binh sat perfectly still on Jeff’s lap. They all sat like statues, except for Mai who pulled on Gen’s blouse. “It’s going to be okay,” Jeff whispered as the officer returned to the room.
Mr. Davis took out a rubber stamp and an inkpad from his desk drawer. Gen exhaled. Jeff reached over and squeezed her hand.
“I’m going to approve the baby’s paperwork,” he said. “But I’m going to hold on to Binh’s and make a few phone calls.” He shifted his eyes from Gen to Jeff. “We investigate these randomly I’ll call in an hour or two and let you know if I plan to do a full investigation. It could be that you’ll be able to pick up the papers this afternoon, or you might not know for several days.”
Gen sat at one of the hotel’s computers and waited. The machine had already crashed twice. She wanted to e-mail her father and ask him to pray. Her account popped back up on the screen. She had two messages. She opened the first one. “It’s from your sister,” she said to Jeff. He held Binh and Mai in his arms as he read over Gen’s shoulder. Janet congratulated them on Binh and then wrote that she was pregnant. Gen nearly laughed at life’s irony. She smiled at the thought of having a niece or nephew; Binh and Mai would have a cousin. An intense desire to take her children home swept over her. Please let Binh’s paperwork be approved today.
