Dragon House

by John Shors

  After Minh had descended, Qui and Iris helped Tam move to the paint cans. “What color would you like?” Iris asked, wishing that Tam weren’t so light.

  Tam studied the colors. She thought of Qui’s story, of how rainbows were magical paths that connected mothers and daughters, of how love floated along these paths. What color would best carry love? She wanted her rainbow to bring love to everyone who walked beneath it and so she thought long and hard. Soon her legs trembled. Her chest hurt. Qui asked if she wanted to sit, but Tam shook her head. This question could not be rushed. It needed thinking.

  Finally, Tam decided to dip her brush into the orange paint. Orange was the color closest to yellow, and since Qui had chosen yellow, Tam knew that she must choose orange.

  She weakly climbed the ladder, aware of hands supporting her, of Iris behind her. She smiled when her brush touched the wall. She’d never created any work of art, but as she pulled the brush she felt something emerge from within her, something beautiful that would remain on the wall long after she’d traveled to the new world.

  TWELVE

  Elephants and Escapes

  Arooster woke Noah. Its shrill cry reverberated within his mind as if it were trying to punch holes in his skull. Around midnight he’d gone to the bathroom and had heard Tam’s muffled coughs. He had hardly slept since, consumed with thoughts of her suffering. As the night went on he’d grown increasingly agitated, fading into a shallow slumber only after swallowing a sleeping pill.

  Normally, Noah might have tried to return to sleep, as its warm darkness was a refuge. But this morning was different. Tam needed him. And he’d give her whatever he could.

  After he dressed and put on his prosthesis, he walked quietly downstairs. To his surprise, Thien wasn’t in the kitchen. Perhaps she’d also slept poorly, worried about Tam or their encounter with Loc. Noah was used to her presence, and the kitchen seemed desolate without her. Its walls didn’t resonate with her voice. Its hollows didn’t carry her smell.

  Noah passed through the kitchen and into the playground. Slender sprouts of grass had emerged from the soil, and he carefully made his way along the path he’d created. Iris sat on his half-finished seesaw. A notebook lay atop her lap. Her hair, usually held tight behind her head, tumbled below her shoulders. She was wearing a T-shirt and an old skirt that fell to her knees. Her feet were bare.

  “You’re up early,” she said, yawning as if to emphasize her words.

  “So are you.”

  She shrugged. “I thought I’d start a journal. So I won’t forget anything.”

  “You won’t forget.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because this place . . . it’s a part of you.”

  Iris smiled. “Where’s your whiskey?”

  “Not far.” He moved closer to the seesaw. Propped against it was a pair of plywood elephant ears that Thien had meticulously painted. “When did she do this?” he asked, his fingers tracing her brushstrokes.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe last night, after you got back.”

  “She’s so talented.”

  “I know. But I don’t think she knows.”

  “I don’t think she cares.”

  “She doesn’t.”

  He lifted one of the ears and awkwardly moved to an end of the seesaw, the extra weight hurting his stump. He’d drilled holes in the plywood so that he could bolt it to the seesaw. “This is going to be nice,” he said, pleased with Thien’s idea to create the elephant, to make Tam happy.

  “It’s going to be wonderful. Just wonderful.” Iris glanced around the playground. “You’re creating something special here, Noah. Your mother, you know, she’d be really proud.”

  He studied the seesaw and saw her notebook, which she’d put aside. “What about your reviews?”

  “I guess they’re going to have to wait.”

  “But your career?”

  “The books won’t go anywhere,” she replied, watching as he slowly bent to his knees and prepared to fit the ear into place. “Do you need help with that?”

  “Sure.”

  She picked up a bolt, and when he nodded, she pushed it through the plywood and then through the reinforced end of the seesaw. She put a large washer and a nut on the end of the bolt, twisting the nut quickly, aware that he was straining. As she reached for another bolt she realized that he was staring at Thien’s artwork. “I think she’s enam ored with you,” Iris said, pushing the second bolt into place.

  “What?”

  “Thien. I think she’s falling for you.”

  “For me? Don’t be ridic—”

  “I think you know, Noah. Though I don’t think you have any idea what to do about it.”

  He released his grip on the plywood after she’d secured the second bolt. “I can’t . . . I can’t deal with that right now. It’s too much.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “She’s too good for me.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Don’t say the truth?”

  Iris rose from her crouched position. “Stop it. Right now. Just because you’ve got problems doesn’t mean that you can’t make someone happy. She’s not a fool, you know. She’s seen who you are and it’s only brought her closer to you.”

  He shook his head, the seesaw forgotten. “I’m not sure.”

  “About what?”

  “What if I’m afraid?”

  “Afraid?”

  “Of disappointing her.”

  She watched as he looked away. “Are you afraid of what that would do to her . . . or to you?”

  “Maybe both.”

  “That’s a chance you have to take,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “But you haven’t disappointed me and I don’t think you’ll disappoint her.”

  His eyes found hers. “I don’t know what to do. I really don’t.”

  “Take her somewhere.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Take her somewhere tomorrow. She’ll go with you. I know she will. Take her somewhere beautiful.”

  “And?”

  “Just . . . go somewhere. She’s told me she wished we could see other parts of Vietnam. Go. Get train tickets or plane tickets and go somewhere beautiful.”

  “Plane tickets? That sounds like too much.”

  “You’re not fifteen, Noah. Don’t worry. She won’t be scared off. Just take her somewhere nice and come back. That’s all you have to do.”

  His heartbeat quickened, a nervousness he hadn’t felt in years seeping into him. “And I should just ask her?”

  “Get the tickets today. And then ask her.”

  “But we’ve got so much work to—”

  “It’s just one day.”

  “But the seesaw.”

  “Finish it. Take Tam for a ride. And then go somewhere tomorrow. I can handle things for a day.”

  Noah glanced toward the kitchen. He hadn’t wanted to be close to a woman since he’d lost his leg. He’d been ashamed and afraid, and far too despondent to care for anyone but himself. But somehow Thien had managed to capture his attention or, better yet, his imagination. He wanted to take her somewhere beautiful, to walk beside her—because when he was beside her, his hurts weren’t so overwhelming.

  “What if she says no?” he asked.

  “She won’t say no.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I can see.”

  He looked to her. “You said no.”

  Iris started to respond but stopped. She remembered him asking her to a movie, remembered how she’d been waiting in vain for her father to pick her up from school. She had turned Noah down, preferring the company of her books. “I didn’t date anyone, Noah. Not in high school, and barely in college, and I’ve had one boyfriend in the last two years. And I certainly didn’t . . . I didn’t look at you like Thien does. If I’d looked at you like that, my answer would have been different.”

  Noah tried to think about what he might have done with a woman before he’d been i
njured. Should he follow such a path, or walk a new one? When no answer arose, he gently squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t need to thank me.”

  “That’s not true. I wouldn’t have had the courage to ask her.”

  “But you will now?”

  He studied her face, wondering how she could give so much and ask for nothing in return. “Are you happy?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  She looked at the center, toward the dormitory. “I don’t want Tam to die. And I can’t be happy with that . . . looming over everything. But I’m glad to be here. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s time for me to do something. And here I’m doing it. Maybe I’m doing it for my father. Maybe for myself. But whatever the case . . . I think we’re creating something wonderful.”

  “You are.”

  “I like it when you smile, Noah. You have such a great smile.”

  He gestured toward the other plywood ear. “Can you help me with that?”

  She nodded, grabbing another bolt. “Tam’s going to love this.”

  “I know,” he replied, lifting the ear into place. The strain of moving the cumbersome object caused pain to race from his stump to his neck. He grimaced, but his thoughts didn’t spiral into an unwanted darkness. He pushed the darkness away and, at least for the moment, held it at bay. “You’re not the only one who’s glad to be here,” he said, shifting his position so that she could place the second bolt.

  Iris twisted the nut, nodding. “Take her somewhere beautiful, Noah. She’s a beautiful person and I think she’ll walk with you, if you show her what she wants to see.”

  SAHN NAVIGATED THE STREETS PARTLY FROM memory, having explored them countless times. Through his damaged eyes he’d seen about all that could be seen—suffering and hope, sorrow and happiness. He’d watched a taxi crash into an elephant, and the procession of a prime minister from another land. Though such sights had been obscured by the dimness of his vision, he had experienced these events with clarity. He’d smelled the elephant’s blood and knew that it was doomed. He’d heard the prime minister’s minions long before the man himself had arrived.

  Sahn didn’t take his senses for granted. Nor was he unaware of using them. When his sight failed to give him enough information, he paused to smell, to listen, to touch. Of course, he was surreptitious about how he examined the world. He always pretended to be looking intently, as if he had the eyes of a magpie.

  “Good morning, Captain,” a shopkeeper said as she swept the cement in front of her store.

  Sahn recognized her voice. He might have recognized her face, if given time. But her voice solved the riddle. “Has the street spoken lately?” he asked, for rumors were rarely quiet.

  “Some Thais bought all my batteries,” she replied casually, as if talking about the weather. “So strange, I thought, to buy fourteen boxes of batteries.”

  Sahn nodded, his mind churning. A group of Thais buying batteries could mean nothing. Batteries were probably more expensive in Thailand. But certain Thais were also involved in child prostitution and opium smuggling. Could batteries play a role in either operation? “How were they dressed?” he asked.

  “Money. They had money. Their clothes were nice and they didn’t try to bargain.”

  “Did they pay in cash?”

  “Yes.”

  He grunted. “Keep listening.”

  “I will, Captain. And I’ll tell you what I hear.”

  Sahn looked ahead, noting obstacles before starting forward. He continued on his patrol, pausing to speak with people he trusted. He asked about the Thais, but no one knew anything else. At one point a silk merchant produced an American twenty-dollar bill and asked if it was counterfeit. To Sahn, the blurry bill looked like any other. He hadn’t heard lately of counterfeit money and said that the man had nothing to worry about.

  Turning down an alley, Sahn proceeded toward the new center for street children. He wanted to talk with Thien. She was the only one who could answer his questions, who could tell him if the center was right or wrong. He wondered if they had such centers in America. Didn’t everyone there sleep under a golden roof?

  After a few minutes the center materialized. When he was about twenty paces away, he paused, listening. He quickly identified the foreign voices, which came from the rear of the building, where the soldier was creating a playground. Good, Sahn thought, moving ahead. He didn’t want to talk with the Americans. At least not today.

  The gate in front of the center was partly closed. Sahn moved past it. “Hello?” he called out in Vietnamese. No one answered, and he stepped inside. His eyes struggled to adjust to his new environs. He stood still, waiting for objects to take on muted dimensions, for bright halos to darken. When satisfied that he could see no better, he proceeded into the kitchen, which smelled of fresh croissants but was empty.

  His feet fell softly as he made his way up the stairs. Again he wondered what had been painted on the wall. Why was everything green? Was it a jungle of some kind?

  At the top of the stairs, he turned into the office. To his surprise, Thien spoke to him before he realized she was there.

  “Captain?” she asked, stopping whatever she was doing.

  He cleared his throat. “You should have told me about what happened under the bridge. Better that I hear about these things from you than from an informer.”

  Thien set down the bucket that she’d been using to water plants. “But that was just—”

  “Last night?”

  She nodded. “I was going to tell you.”

  Sahn seemed not to hear her, his face expressionless. “Do you know who he is?”

  “Would you like to sit?”

  “Questions and answers do not need chairs.”

  “Maybe you should speak with Miss Iris.”

  “But I want to speak with you.”

  “Two children came to us,” Thien said, choosing her words carefully. “They wanted to stay with us. And they warned us about a man.”

  “A man?”

  “A man named Loc. They worked for him. And they were afraid about what he might do if they left him.”

  Sahn shook his head. “Whose idea was the bribe?”

  “Mine,” Thien replied, though it was untrue.

  “Then you must know the risks. He still might come for them.”

  “I know.”

  “What will you do if he does?”

  “I’m not sure. We haven’t talked about that.”

  Sahn let his voice carry some of his frustration. “Then you’d better start talking. You’ve put a scorpion in your pocket.”

  “We’ll talk, Captain. I promise.”

  “I know this man. And he’s dangerous. I’ll watch out for him, but I can’t be everywhere.”

  “You—”

  “These Americans, they may be good. But they don’t know Vietnam. You must be the leader here.”

  “I know. And I’m trying. We all are.”

  “Do more than try. They need you.” He slapped at a mosquito that had drawn blood from the back of his hand. “What is it like, working with the Americans?”

  “They’re both very kind. And they work so hard.”

  “Their country almost destroyed ours.”

  Thien stiffened. “Time doesn’t stand still, Captain. These are wonderful people. We’re lucky to have them.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Believe me. We are.”

  “And my fish?”

  “Your fish? They’re fine. We feed them bugs.”

  “And they eat them?”

  “As fast as we can catch them.”

  Sahn nodded, pleased to hear that his fish were eating so well. “I watch over four girls,” he said, “who sleep in a park. They’re fine girls. But they’re getting too old to beg. Soon they’ll turn to stealing . . . or to other things.”

  Thien finally unde
rstood why he’d sought her out. His pride wouldn’t allow him to ask Iris, but he could ask her. “I’m sorry to hear that, Captain,” she said.

  “Can they stay here? They won’t trouble you. And they’ll study hard.”

  “Well, I’ll have to ask, but I think so. We still have a lot of beds to fill.”

  “I don’t have money, but I can do something.”

  “You don’t—”

  “What do you need? What’s something that you need?”

  Thien thought about her response. If she asked for too little, he would be offended. If she asked for too much, he’d try but fail. “We’d like a swing,” she said, unconsciously rising to her tiptoes, hoping that she had found a solution.

  “A swing?”

  “For the playground.”

  “But isn’t the soldier doing all that?”

  “He can’t do everything.”

  Sahn grunted, knowing it would be difficult to locate a swing. “A swing for two?”

  “That would be perfect. Should I tell Mr. Noah to expect it?”

  “Of course,” Sahn replied, remembering how he used to swing with his brothers and sisters. How happy his siblings had been. How he longed to have more recent memories of them. “You’ll get the swing in a week,” he said, still thinking of his siblings.

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  He stared at her, believing that she was smiling. She’s never felt the blast of a bomb, he thought. Never heard the screams of her sisters. How lucky for her. “Thank you for taking the girls,” he finally said. “They’ll work hard. I promise.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Sahn nodded. He then turned and walked into the stairwell, into a darker place where his memories unfurled.

  THE PLEASURE BOAT ROCKED GENTLY IN the Saigon River. Loc opened his eyes, trying to make sense of the world around him. His mind was still muddled by opium, and the room seemed much larger than was true. The walls and ceiling weren’t wood like the outside of the boat but were covered with giant mirrors. The mirror above him seemed to reveal the most. He looked for his pipe and saw that it had fallen to the floor. Was it empty?

  Beside Loc lay a high-priced lady. Though she was naked, he couldn’t remember all that had happened between them. For sure, they’d smoked his pipe until everything seemed to sway in tandem with the boat. She had asked him where he was born, but he’d thought of being homeless in Nha Trang and told her that she wasn’t paid to ask questions. And so they’d smoked more. Soon she had removed her clothes. He’d understood then why she was so special, why she cost so much. He had fallen on her swiftly, needing to dominate her with his size and strength.