Beauty Rising

by Mark W. Sasse

  I readied two small bags and left many other possessions behind. I had a small amount of money that had been stashed away, but it wouldn’t do much for me. I piled the bags one of top of the other in the basket of my Honda motorbike. Without an electric starter, I would have had to walk because I never could have kick started the thing in my condition. I keep my head down and looked only straight ahead as I started the bike and left the courtyard. Spying eyes followed my every move. Everyone in my neighborhood would have known about me by now. Neighbors, once friendly, shielded their faces and looked away as I drove past, only then to turn back around and follow my trail out of sight with their eager eyes. I twice drove around the city, past the clock tower, down towards Mo Bach and the university, out past the bus station and then left down the main drag back to the clock tower downtown. I had nowhere to go. The only standing invitation I had was from the gates of hell itself – the place that got me into this predicament in the first place. I circled three or four times around the clock tower but with every turn the big hand approached twelve. The clock possessed me – I felt bound to obey its call. There was no other force in the world working for me at that moment except for that clock, prodding, cudgeling, and nudging me forward to my destiny. I couldn’t pull away from its magic. A bus came barreling into the traffic circle. If I only had the courage to quickly turn sharply right into the path of the bus, it could all be over, but it passed without incident and I caught one last glimpse of the clock as I drove straight towards the market. It read 8:57. I turned past the market and went down a few blocks, past the movie theater and into the courtyard of the People’s Council Guest House. The gate was open, but the courtyard was completely empty. No one stood at the door and the guard house too stood vacant – an oddity.

  I dismounted my motorbike, grabbed my two bags – one in each hand for I could not imagine placing either of them over my back – and tepidly walked through the open front doors. The lights in the large entrance hall burnt brightly, but no one was in sight. It was the first time I ever came here without Cuong greeting me. Perhaps it was a warning sign, but I had long ago passed the safe route. Once you fall off a cliff, there are no more warning signs. Each time I lifted my foot to go up another step, pain shot through my body, but I continued the long trek to the second floor guest house room on the left – the one I knew so well. The large wooden double doors had six large panes of glass in each one. Curtains had been drawn from the inside, so I could not see in. I took a deep breath, and with much effort pushed down the stiff metal handle that unlatched the door with the sound of a click-click-click-click-click. I slowly opened it fully, picked up my second bag which I had placed on the ground and walked into the room closing the door behind me. The room was empty, but I noticed that the door to the balcony was open because the door’s full length curtain flapped in the wind. I put down my bags and walked slowly towards the balcony sensing Duc’s presence. Perhaps all would be well.

  As I went to pull back the curtain, a hand from the balcony grabbed my wrist and twisted it back towards me.

  “The little whore who won’t learn her lesson,” Duc’s daughter Hue said as she pushed me backwards towards the sitting area.

  Once again, I was trapped. I only wanted to die. Hue pushed me into the couch, my back writhing in pain, as she approached and started slapping me across the cheeks – the cheeks that were already swollen and scarred from the afternoon. I had no fight left within me. She slapped me mercilessly while swearing and yelling at me at the top of her lungs. I noticed two other figures standing around her as well – Mrs. Duc and the other daughter. I gave into the pain and took each blow flopping my head back and forth like an inanimate baby doll being shaken by a little girl. When Hue stopped, the second daughter came up into my face and spit on me. Then Mrs. Duc approached carrying a pair of scissors. Their words and insults twirled around the room, but I barely noticed them anymore. I felt semi-unconscious partially unaware of what happened to me. But when I saw the scissors, I jumped backwards in a last attempt of a survival instinct. I wanted to die, but I still didn’t want to be stabbed. As she came closer, I yelled out for the first time “No, No.” She put the scissors up toward my neck. I ducked and closed my eyes – and then she cut off my long flowing hair on which people often complimented me. She threw the pair of scissors on the couch and leaned over to my ear.

  “Your lover is coming. Now he will see how beautiful you really are.”

  Mrs. Duc glanced over to the other side of the suite. There stood Mr. Duc, who had entered from one of the side rooms on the far end. Mrs. Duc, with her two daughters by her side, looked over at her husband and nodded slightly. Then she smiled at him quickly turning back at me. Her glib grin declared victory. I, the defeated, the bruised, the weary, the hopeless, sat on the brink of death. I wanted it more than anything else. Perhaps he would do it. Perhaps her grim grin was my death warrant. Perhaps she would make him do her bidding. Or maybe that’s when the wiry Cuong would make his appearance – to finish the job. One thing seemed certain; I would no longer be a problem for this family after tonight.

  “Farewell,” she said to me calmly and walked out of the room with her daughters behind her.

  Several minutes passed and I seemed to almost black out – sitting dazed waiting for the crushing final blow. Then I finally noticed Mr. Duc standing over top of me. Arms folded, staring right at me.

  “You should have known better than to open your mouth.”

  I kept my eyes looking straight down.

  “You could have been something more than just a mistress. You had it all, but look at you now. This will be how I’ll remember you. Ugly and swollen.”

  He didn’t flinch from his posturing – arms folded, head tilted to the left. He had a smug grin on his face. He seemed to be a completely different person.

  “They really did you good. Turned a masterpiece into a worthless piece of trash.”

  His words hurt every wound of my body. I marveled at how someone so dignified, so refined and in control could turn into a predator – licking the wounds of the one he tortured. Gleefully singing death’s serenade.

  “It was all your fault,” he continued. “From the day I entered your shop for a shave, you had your eyes on me. You seduced me. You got into my head with your pretty face and young body. But I see your tricks. Yes, I see your tricks.”

  He leaned into me.

  “And you got what you deserved.”

  I raised my arm as if to hit him, but he caught my wrist. Tears ran down my face, they made my wounds burn. I hated him. He rubbed his hand along my chin.

  “Such a pity. You used to be so beautiful.”

  He got up and went over to the desk and lit a cigarette.

  “What’s to become of me?” I feebly asked through the tears.

  “Ha,” he laughed. “What’s to become of you? It will be hard to keep your naughty deeds under wraps.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Don’t be silly. But I want something to be very clear.”

  He quickly came to the sofa and grabbed me around the neck pushing me backwards. The pain shot through my body, especially from the wounds on my back.

  “You will leave Thai Nguyen and never come back. You will never speak of this to anyone, or you will be dead.”

  “Stop. It hurts me,” I pleaded.

  He continued the pressure around me.

  “Do you understand?” he aggressively increased the pressure around my neck. I was choking. I couldn’t breathe. “Do you understand?”

  I couldn’t have nodded in affirmation if I wanted to. The pain surrounded me. I gagged for breathe, but there was none. And in my last attempt at life, I reached around with my right hand for anything at all for which to defend myself. I found my purse and felt for my key chain as he continued yelling at me. I felt a hard plastic card in my hand. With all of my remaining strength, I thrust the card right into Mr. Duc’s eye. He recoiled back, immediately to cover his e
ye with his hands.

  “Ahhhhh!” he yelled in pain.

  Blood began squirting down his face as he continued screaming and yelling. I got up immediately and went toward the desk, trying to get behind it for at least some protection. He came after me immediately, grabbed me around the waist and threw me against the desk. I desperately searched for another weapon. I finally kneed him in the stomach and he fell backward just enough for me to get out of his grip. He still held his eye and blood continued to gush down his face. He ranted and raved at me as I skirted behind the desk.

  “Come here you witch. I will end this right now.”

  “Stay away from me,” I said with deepening conviction. “You are the one that caused all of this. You are to blame, not me.”

  “You’ve assaulted a party official. You will go to jail for this, if you survive this night. Come here now.”

  “Go to hell. You are just like every other corrupt official. Like the ones that killed my parents.”

  “Come here now!”

  He lunged around the corner of the table at me. He took his hand away from his eye, and it looked like part of his eyeball was hanging out. I panicked and picked up the small phuc, loc, tho three figured statue made of marble. I held the heavy symbol of happiness, luck, and longevity with both hands over my head and hurled it at him with all my might as he was no further than four feet away from me. The ridged edge of the statue cut into his forehead and stopped him from advancing. He staggered for a moment, trying to catch his balance on the edge of the desk, but then he collapsed, hitting his head violently on the side of the desk and sprawling out on the floor. I backed up a couple of feet and just stared at him for a moment. The sudden silence was eerie. I wondered if he was dead, but I did not have the nerve to go near him.

  Run, I thought. Leave.

  I ran to the sofa and grabbed my keys, and then I went to the door and picked up my bags when I stopped suddenly. I thought of the key in his pocket. What did I have to lose? I could think of nothing. I put down my bags and ran quickly over to his body which still wasn’t moving. He lay on his stomach with his face away from me. I cautiously kneeled down beside him and slowly reached my hand into his front pocket. I had to nudge his body up a little bit to reach down to the bottom and find his key ring. I retrieved it quickly, then jumped back two steps jittery and afraid he might stir. My heart pounded; adrenaline ripped through my throbbing body, but my mind was clear. I went to the large wooden cabinet from which he extracted my monthly salary for “English lessons”, and opened the door. The safe stood before me with one key in one of the key holes and the other just waiting for its mate. I put the key in and turned it. Then I pushed down on the safe handle and the door creaked open wide. In the back corner sat a large stack of cash. I ran to the suite door, grabbed my backpack and emptied all my clothes onto the floor. I ran back to the safe and stuffed stack after stack of US 50s and 100s into the bag. I stuffed and shoved and nudged in the blood money. Then I saw my diamond necklace, the one Mr. Duc made me wear every time. I put it into my pants pocket and then rushed past his body once more. He remained still and unresponsive. I picked up my other bag and ran out into the hallway and down the stairs. The place remained completely vacant – no doubt the Duc family planned it that way so they could discreetly take care of their little problem. I ran on adrenaline out the main hall door and to my motorbike parked off to the right.

  “Come on, come on,” I stumbled with my keys trying to get it into the ignition. I did. It turned. I started it. I zoomed out of the courtyard and into the street.

  “I have to get out of Thai Nguyen. I have to leave. No, I have to leave the country.”

  My mind went back and forth replaying everything over and over. I didn’t notice my pain at all.

  “Hung, maybe Hung can help me.”

  After about ten minutes, I ended up on the backside of the university where Hung rented a room. I sat idling on top of the dike road overlooking the university. The road was pitch-black at night with no streetlights. I called Hung.

  “Hello.”

  “Hung. It’s me. I need to see you now.”

  “I’m about ready to go out, I…”

  “Hung. Now. Up on Mo Bach road. Hurry. I need you now.”

  “OK, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Two minutes later, the headlights from Hung’s bike lit up my face as he came to a stop.

  “What in the world happened to you?”

  “Nothing. I’m in trouble. Lots of trouble.”

  “What happened?”

  “I can’t tell you. I just can’t tell you. But it’s bad, real bad. I need your help.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “No, trust me. It’s much better if you don’t know anything. I’m sure tomorrow they will come asking questions.”

  “Who?”

  “The police. Hung, just listen. Did you say you had a contact that can move people?”

  “Yeah, but, I don’t know. It’s dangerous.”

  “I need to get out of the country. Now.”

  “My Phuong, I don’t know. You can’t just leave the country. You don’t have that kind of money. I mean, these are serious individuals.”

  “Money is not a problem.”

  “What do you mean ‘money is not problem’? What in the world is going on?”

  “Hung, I’ll pay you $1000 right now to get me in contact with these people.”

  “A thousand dollars? Are you serious?”

  “Look at me Hung. Do I not look desperate?”

  “Yes, you do. Let me make a call.”

  He parked the bike and walked away about fifteen feet and started an animated conversation in which I had to strain to understand only every few words. He finally put the phone down, holding the receiver over his pants to block the sound.

  “Ten thousand dollars,” he said to me.

  I nodded. He looked at me, surprised, and then walked away to finish his conversation. After a minute, he approached me again.

  “You are in luck, if you really have that kind of cash. There is a freighter leaving Haiphong tonight at 4AM. There will be several stowaways on it. You sure you want to get into this?”

  “Where is it going?”

  “America.”

  “Yes. I have no other choice.”

  “Okay, it’s 9:45. The last bus to Haiphong leaves in fifteen minutes. You need to get moving now.”

  “Okay,” I said appreciatively.

  “Here’s what you need to do. At exactly 3AM, be at 12 Tran Hung Dao Street. You will meet a man called “August Revolution” and he’ll do the rest. You need to pay him up front.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “My Phuong, what is going on?”

  “You’ll know by tomorrow. But just remember one thing; things did not happen the way that the papers will report it tomorrow. Remember that, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Hung looking perplexed.

  I reached into my backpack and pulled out a wad of 50s.

  “Here, this is well more than $1000. For all your trouble.”

  He looked shocked and took the money without question.

  “I think it is better that I don’t know. You poor girl, look at you. And your hair.”

  “It’s okay. Can I have your cap?”

  He handed it to me.

  “I think you paid enough for it,” he smiled.

  I put the cap down over my head.

  “And this bag, I can’t take it. I need to go lighter.”

  “Well, from what it sounds like, I don’t think I should have your belongings in my possession.”

  “Yes, of course,” I said realizing how foolish that was. “Goodbye Hung.”

  “Goodbye My Phuong.”

  “12 Tran Hung Dao Street, right?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  I started the bike and took off down the road. Just past the university stood several large dumpsters. I pulled over and reached into my duffel bag pulling
out about four pieces of clothing. Then I threw the duffel into the trash bin and tore up the street with only my purse, my backpack of money and these few items of clothing. The bus station was only three minutes up the road. I stopped the bike on the street outside the gate, threw the keychain into my purse and then ran through the main gate to the ticket counter. I kept my cap down over my eyes as much as possible.

  “One ticket to Haiphong.”

  “It’s pulling out right now.”

  “Okay.”

  I handed her the money and she gave me the paper ticket. I ran to the bus and entered. Luckily, it was only half full. We pulled out of the gate, and I felt some relief. As we went through the first traffic circle, sirens could be heard behind us. Three police cars, roaring as loudly as possible, raced up from behind. My heart pounded as surely they came for me. But they raced past us, turned left, and headed downtown towards the clock tower, the market, the cinema, and the People’s Council Guest House. Our bus quietly went straight and within minutes had exited Thai Nguyen City. I was on my way.

  I leaned my head against the window and cried.

  “Dear God. Dear God,” I said under my breathe.

  I hadn’t prayed in a long time. I was raised a Protestant, but I left all that in the south after my parents died.

  “Dear God. I’m so afraid. I’m so afraid.”

  There was nothing else to pray. I sobbed quietly as the bus darted through the night, beeping its horn, swerving left and right around motorbikes, cars, and the occasional animal. After some thirty minutes, my tears gave way to sleep.

  About an hour into the trip, the bus screeched to a full stop which jerked my torn-up face into the seat in front of me. Three water buffalo stood directly in the middle of the road. The bus beeped its horn incessantly until they slowly plodded out into the darkness. My face throbbed, and I reached into my purse to find some Panadol, swallowing four of them whole. I then caught a glance of my cell phone and thought that perhaps they could trace my location if I used it. I pried open the back of it, removed the SIM card and threw it out the open window. Then I pulled out my compact which had a mirror and battery powered light, daring to look at my face – a face I barely recognized. I reached to pull my key chain out of my purse. I knew I wouldn’t need those anymore. As I glanced down, I saw Martin Kinney’s license had some strange shading over it. I shined the light on Martin’s face and there were blood splatters all around. I then realized that Martin’s license was the hard plastic card that I plunged into Mr. Duc’s eye.