Beyond the Blue

by Leslie Gould

  When they arrived at the hotel, Older Brother instructed them to go straight to their rooms. He had a meeting across town. As the taxi pulled away, Lan saw Older Sister and Mother standing in front of the glass door in the lobby. Hang took a few steps down the sidewalk. Was she following her uncle’s taxi? “Hang,” Lan called to her. “Aunt Cam My is here to greet us.”

  Hang kept walking, hunched over a little, her hand against her side. Lan gazed beyond her, to the corner. The Taylors were walking away from them with Binh and Mai. “Hang!” Binh called out over the mans shoulder.

  “Come back!” Lan yelled.

  “Ma!” Binh screamed.

  “Oh, no.” Older Sister stood beside Lan. Hang started jogging. “Come on,” Cam My said. “We’d better get her.” The couple turned the corner, followed by Hang. Older Sister reached them first, just as Hang grabbed hold of Binh’s foot.

  He screamed, “Ma!” again and reached for Hang.

  “We’re so sorry,” Older Sister said, gasping for breath. Lan understood Cam My’s simple English words.

  Binh began to howl. The man tried to hold on to him, but Binh flung himself at Hang. Lan realized that she shouldn’t have followed Hang; Older Sister should have taken care of the situation.

  “Don’t scream,” Older Sister said to Binh. “We can’t be with you on the street if you’re going to scream.” Binh stopped and reached for Lan. “Take him,” Older Sister instructed quickly and then, turning to the Taylors, said something else in English that Lan didn’t understand. They nodded.

  “What’s going on?” Mother asked, out of breath, as she squinted at the Americans.

  “We’ll go into the café,” Cam My explained. “We can’t stand here on the street. Everyone is staring at us.” Lan looked up, away from her children. It was true. A crowd had gathered. “Come on,” Cam My said to Mother. She said something else to the Taylors in English, pointed at Mother, and then said, “They say they’re pleased to meet you, Mother.”

  Mother bowed. They ducked through the door into a café. Mr. Taylor pulled out a chair for Lan and then for his wife; Mother sat at the head of the table and smiled widely. Binh turned and looked at each person and then hiccuped. Mai reached for the American woman’s hair, then pulled on the woman’s lower lip. Lan’s heart squeezed. Would the woman love the children as much as she did? She pulled on the waistband of Binh’s red shorts. He wore a pair of underwear underneath. He’d never had underwear before. His shoes were brand-new. So was the red-and-orange-striped shirt he wore. He looked good in orange. He looked good, period. His skin seemed lighter. Already he was heavier. The sores on his face had cleared up.

  Older Sister extended her hand to Mr. Taylor and then to Mrs. Taylor. “Cam My Johnson,” she said. Lan realized that her sister was introducing herself to the Taylors properly. She then apologized to the Taylors again, at least Lan assumed that’s what she was saying. The baby reached for Mrs. Taylor’s jade cross. Lan wondered if she had bought the necklace in Vietnam, maybe down at the Ben Thanh Market. Lan wanted to see the market. She remembered Cuong talking about it, but they were going home in the morning, so she would not see it.

  The waitress came. Mrs. Taylor talked to Older Sister, then to the waitress. The waitress left, then returned with Coca-Colas for everyone. Binh smiled and slid off Lan’s lap and into his own chair.

  Older Sister and Mrs. Taylor talked some more, and then Older Sister said to Lan, “Is there anything you want to know?”

  “Ask them if Binh seems happy with them.”

  Older Sister sighed. “What are they going to answer, Lan? That he doesn’t? I told you that he is. I’ve seen him.”

  Embarrassed, Lan paused for a moment and then said, “Ask them when they’re going back.”

  “You know they don’t know that. It depends on how badly Brother messes them up.” Older Sister pulled her cigarettes from her purse, stopped, and then put them back and dropped her purse to the floor.

  Lan felt flustered, annoyed with Older Sister, yet relieved that she was with them, a bridge to the Americans.

  Mrs. Taylor said something more. Lan raised her head, and Older Sister turned to her and said, “Mrs. Taylor says that her husband’s father had a heart attack and that Mr. Taylor will return tomorrow. She said she’ll wait until the children’s paperwork is completed.”

  Lan pulled Binh back onto her lap and then against her chest.

  “They haven’t been able to tell Binh yet,” Cam My added.

  “Do you understand what your aunt said?” Lan spoke quietly into Binh’s ear. He nodded. “You must be a very good boy for Mrs. Taylor, and then you’ll see your ba soon.”

  He glanced at Mr. Taylor, then Mrs. Taylor. He climbed from Lan’s lap onto his chair and took a drink of Coke.

  Nobody spoke for a moment.

  Mr. Taylor asked Cam My a question.

  “He wants to know how you’re doing,” Older Sister translated to Hang.

  Mai began to fuss. Mrs. Taylor pulled a bottle out of her bag and tilted the baby back. Lan’s breasts began to tingle. She wanted to hold Mai close, to feed her.

  “Tell him I’m fine,” Hang said.

  “What do you think of them?” Lan asked Hang. Was Hang jealous? Did she wish she was going to the United States?

  “They seem nice.” Hang took a drink of her Coca-Cola. “Binh and Mai are lucky.”

  The tingle in Lan’s breasts turned into the hurt in her stomach. Older Sister and the Taylors talked some more.

  “Mrs. Taylor wants to know if we were with Mr. Tran earlier today,” Cam My said.

  “Tell her yes. That he’s here from Vung Tau to investigate Binh’s adoption.” Lan paused. “Should you tell her he’s our brother?”

  “No.” Cam My turned her head and spoke to the couple again. Mr. Taylor leaned forward. Mrs. Taylor said something to her husband, and they talked back and forth quietly.

  “They’re worried about the investigation,” Cam My said to Lan. She paused. “And they want to know if you need anything,” Older Sister added.

  Lan shook her head.

  “Lan, Lan,” Mother clucked. “Of course you need something; you need lots of things.”

  Cam My ignored Mother. “Like the necklace Mrs. Taylor is wearing. She thinks you like it.”

  Lan blushed and shook her head again.

  “Well, they think were in a bad spot,” Cam My continued. “If they take Binh from you now, he’ll cry and cry. They wondered if we want to walk down to the market with them. They have a few gifts to buy before Mr. Taylor leaves tomorrow.”

  “What would Older Brother think?” Lan took a sip of Coke.

  Older Sister shrugged. “He’ll be gone for a while.”

  Lan carried Binh the first block, but at the intersection Mr. Taylor reached for him. He shook his head. “Let your ba carry you,” Lan said, “or you’ll have to walk.” Binh went to his father. Lan followed behind. “Binh, you be a good boy,” she said. “We’re going to the market, and I’ll be with you. Then you will fall asleep, and your ba will carry you back to the hotel. Soon you will go to America. You think about me, and I’ll think about you. Someday we will see each other again.”

  Binh turned his head away from her. She fell back beside Mrs. Taylor. A beggar held out his hat. A woman holding a baby chattered away at Mr. Taylor in English. Mrs. Taylor seemed embarrassed. Lan reached, with her good hand, for Mrs. Taylor’s hand.

  “American women don’t hold hands,” Cam My said quietly.

  “She doesn’t seem to mind,” Lan said, glancing at Mrs. Taylor and then down at Mai, asleep in the funny pack. “What did the woman with the baby say?”

  “That she would sell them her little boy for a hundred dollars,” Cam My translated.

  Lan held her burned hand in front of her. The blisters had popped. The skin was healing. She would have scars on the back of her hand and fingers. Lan kept walking, still holding Mrs. Taylor’s hand.

  Lan gasped as they walked t
hrough the entrance of the Ben Thanh Market. Stalls of goods spread out under the huge ceiling as far as she could see. She’d spent most of her life around markets, but never had she seen anything so big. Streams of people flowed through. The market ladies called out to each other, gossiping, borrowing fingernail polish, and buying snacks from each other.

  They strolled through the market, looking at the goods, the spices, the tea, and the coffee. Live crabs crawled over each other in baskets; fish swam back and forth in tubs; tiger prawns floated in glass tanks; chickens, ducks, and geese clucked and quacked in cages. The smell of blood and feathers rose from the butcher blocks. The Taylors stopped to watch.

  “There are no markets like this in the U.S.,” Cam My said to Lan.

  They passed buckets of flowers—lotus, lilies, roses, and zinnias. Then baskets heaped with fruit—orange star fruit, guava blushed with pink, and dark red lychees. Mother squeezed a mango and then tossed it back in the basket, shaking her head. The smell of the fruit permeated the air, taking away the smell of blood and flesh. Lan knew the good smell wouldn’t last. By the end of the day, the ripening fruit would rot.

  They passed shoes, clothes, linens, stoneware, and china. Mother stopped and pointed at a green teapot. Mr. Taylor quickly bought it, paying full price.

  “Fool,” Mother said and smiled. Lan knew it was a story she would tell over and over back home.

  “You’re welcome,” Mr. Taylor said. Lan understood his English and smiled. “Thank you,” she said in English. “For my mother’s—” She couldn’t remember the word for gift.

  He smiled a full, warm smile.

  The market was packed with goods. She had never imagined so much food, so many things to buy.

  It turned out that the gifts the Taylors wanted to buy were for Lan, Hang, and Mother. Mrs. Taylor found a jade cross on a gold chain. She took the one from around her neck, which was higher quality jade, and put it on Lan. Mrs. Taylor spoke in English to Older Sister.

  “She says that this one was her mothers,” Cam My said.

  Lan felt puzzled.

  “She wants you to have it.”

  “No, I can’t.” Lan placed her burned hand at the base of her neck.

  “No, take it. She wouldn’t give it to you if she didn’t want you to have it.”

  They bought two jade bracelets, one for Mother and one for Hang. Then they stopped at an ao dai stall.

  “For you and Hang,” Cam My translated.

  Lan shook her head.

  “Yes, yes.” Mrs. Taylor said, pulling a white ao dai from the rack for Hang. Lan chose a blue green one, the color of the South China Sea.

  Mai began to fuss, and Mrs. Taylor pulled her from the funny pack.

  “Tell them we should get back to the hotel,” Lan said. Older Sister spoke. Mrs. Taylor held the baby with one hand, then reached out and took Lan’s good hand and squeezed it. Mrs. Taylor handed her the baby. For a moment Lan didn’t want to hold her daughter, but then she changed her mind. She smelled the baby’s sweet, clean hair, ran her hand along her head, then pulled up her dress and felt her diaper underneath the cotton pants. Little lace socks covered her feet.

  “Where’s Binh?” Hang asked.

  Lan searched the crowd and immediately spotted tall Mr. Taylor carrying a sleeping Binh down the aisle. She sighed and handed the baby back to Mrs. Taylor. As Mr. Taylor approached, she reached out and squeezed Binh’s leg. The man, perfectly balancing Binh, knelt on the concrete floor of the market. Lan kissed her sleeping son gently on the lips. He stirred and then settled. “Good-bye,” she whispered. “Be a good boy. I will remember you, and you will remember me, and someday we will see each other again.” Lan swallowed hard. She would not cry, not again. Her heart broke in two and then came back together, mostly.

  Chapter 45

  It is the same Mr. Tran,” Gen said as she walked beside Maggie to the restaurant for a late dinner. The sun had long since set. It seemed like days, not just a few hours, since they had poured out their worries to Maggie. Now they had even more to tell her. Gen treasured the time with Lan and her family, the time in the café and market—except for the talk about Mr. Tran and the investigation.

  “How do you know?” Maggie asked.

  “Cam My told us. I mean Cammy.”

  In an anxious rush, as they hurried down the sidewalk, Gen explained to Maggie what had happened.

  “Cammy says that he’s investigating Binh’s case again,” Jeff added.

  “But that’s ridiculous. He already signed the papers.” Maggie’s voice grew louder over the sound of the traffic.

  Jeff shrugged his shoulders. “Cammy said Mr. Tran reopened the investigation.” Jeff scooped up Binh as they crossed the street. “Gen was right; I was wrong.”

  “So you’re not paranoid after all.” Maggie patted Gen’s back. “I’m sorry.”

  Gen didn’t care that she was right. “I wish that’s what it was. Just paranoia instead of this ordeal.”

  The conversation continued as they sat around the table with the Gordons. When they got to the part about going to the market, Jeff began to list the things they gave Lan, Hang, and the grandmother, who reminded Gen of a dried-apple doll, worn out from life.

  “You gave them all that?” Bryce asked as the waitress put a dish of banana flower salad on the table.

  “Yes,” Gen answered. She took a spoonful of fish soup. The food was delicious; she was surprised that she could enjoy it.

  “Don’t you think that could be construed as payment?” Bryce turned to Maggie.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. People give birth mothers gifts all the time. Like the lockets with the photos.”

  The conversation turned to Bryce’s work. He planned to pitch a series of articles to the New York Times on international adoption. Gen scooped salad onto Binh’s plate and then onto her own.

  “Sue, when will you come back again?” Jeff pushed his soup bowl aside.

  “Every other month or so,” Sue said, stroking the back of Daniel’s head.

  Binh picked the chicken out of his salad with his chopsticks. Gen put down her fork and picked up her chopsticks. She concentrated on not holding them too tightly as she plunged them into her salad.

  Daniel plucked a piece of chicken off Binh’s plate. Binh moved closer to Jeff. Mai began to fuss on the bench next to Gen, and the Cambodian woman who managed the restaurant walked over and picked up the baby.

  Jeff put his arm around Binh and then turned toward Maggie. “What time do you leave tomorrow?”

  “Not until late afternoon.”

  “Will you check in with Gen before you go?” Jeff passed the soup tureen to Maggie.

  She nodded. “I’ll tell you good-bye tonight, though. I’ll also call Bao and have him make some phone calls. See if he can figure out what’s going on with the Justice Department.”

  “I hope you’ll be on your way too in a few days,” Bryce said to Gen. “If not, give us a call. We can commiserate.”

  “Thank you,” Jeff and Gen said at the same time. Then they laughed, a little too loudly. What would they do if the U.S. government wouldn’t allow Binh’s adoption?

  “I think it’s our phone,” Gen said as they neared their door. “Maybe it’s Jake with news about your dad.”

  Jeff struggled with the key, slipping Binh to the floor. He held the door open wide, and Gen hurried in to answer it.

  “Genni?” It was her fathers voice. “I have a ticket. I’m coming to Vietnam to help you.”

  “Who is it?” Jeff asked.

  Dad, Gen mouthed. “I don’t want you to do that,” Gen said into the phone. “It’s such a hard trip. I’d worry about you.” And about your landing at Tan Son Nhut Airport, and about your heart, and about how Vietnam might make you feel.

  “Genni,” Jeff said, “your father wants to come?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be fine,” her father said.

  “Let him come,” Jeff said. “I’ve been pr
aying that he would decide to come help you.”

  “Genni, I said I’ll be fine,” her father repeated.

  “Hold on, Dad. I’m going to let you and Jeff talk.”

  Jeff winked at her and took the phone. “Hi, Dad.” He listened for a moment. “You or Aunt Marie, huh?” Jeff gave her another wink. She shook her head.

  “I think it’s a great idea. Let me ask Genni again.” Jeff put his hand over the receiver. “Don’t you think it’s a great idea?”

  “No.”

  “He has a passport,” Jeff said. “And a ticket.”

  “But he had a panic attack when he was supposed to go to Kazakhstan, and this is Vietnam. I don’t want anything to happen to him.” Binh walked toward Gen. “Remember my mother? My dad’s breakdown?” Gen sat on the bed, and Binh sat beside her.

  “How many years ago? Twenty-six?” Jeff smiled.

  “Twenty-five since the breakdown but just a year since the panic attack.”

  “I think he’s over that. I think this would be good for him. I think it would be good for you. I think,” Jeff said, looking at Binh, “it might preserve our son’s life. I think it would be really good for him to have his grandfather here.”

  Her father would never follow through with it. He might plan to come, but he would change his mind. “What about his visa?”

  “Good question.” Jeff put the phone back up to his ear.

  “Did you get a visa?” he said and then listened. He put his hand over the receiver again and turned to Gen. “He’s applied for an emergency visa that will come by Federal Express tomorrow afternoon. He has a ticket for Wednesday, and he’ll arrive Friday.”

  What was Dad thinking? It was a long trip, but the time change made it sound unbearable. Binh reached into his backpack and retrieved the toy car and then ran it along the bed.

  “Dad wants to talk to you.” Jeff handed Gen the phone as she passed Mai to him.

  “Have you had a chance to call Tam?” Dad sounded hesitant.

  “Who?”

  “The man I e-mailed you about, twice,” Dad said.

  The e-mail It seemed as if it had been a year ago. Was the second e-mail just this morning? “No. I didn’t get to that yet.”