Lives Paris Took

by Rachael Wright

  David took a deep breath and forced himself to look Angela in the eye. She was frozen in amazement.

  “This is quite incredible. I would love to help you. Unfortunately, I will need to contact the superintendent about this. I’m not sure if we would need to be reimbursed. But after all, we are a school, and what sort of school would we be if members of our community were left behind?”

  “Thank you.”

  It was all he could manage, he was not a school employee, and asking for the use of a classroom four days a week now seemed rather a large request. And he was here, asking for it for virtually free.

  “Why don’t I make the call now, if you would like to wait outside? I wouldn’t want to keep you or your friends waiting. I’ll plead your case as best I can.”

  David saw the excitement in her eyes, and nodded. As he walked out, he was overcome with gratitude. He sat in a free chair, behind the secretary’s desk, and cast his mind back to his days at this school. Angela Simms had been one of the only children to treat him with dignity and respect. She was kind, loaned him pencils, and sat by him at lunch when no one else would do so. She was a woman with a heart for those that were different, because she didn’t see them as such. They were human and as deserving of love as the next person.

  As he let his head rest against the wall behind him, and thought of the many eager faces that had stood before him last night, cramped in the small room at the library. Their eyes were full of hope, and their lives brimmed with promise, but it was their willingness and tenacity to chase knowledge that struck him. They had put their lives and futures in his hands–a stranger. And yet, he felt more camaraderie with them than members of his own family.

  He thought of the joy on Hien Due’s face at the chance to pay an educated, French-speaking professional to teach his friends and family the subtleties of the English language. Hien Due and his people would have this chance, even if he had to grovel at the feet of Doris for the use of her church, a thought that gave him no pleasure.

  “David!”

  He looked up. Angela was waving at him from the doorway of her office. The secretary frowned, scandalized, as if he were the one shouting halfway across a room. David’s feet moved on their own accord, taking him across the hardwood floor. The creaking of the wood floors floated through his foggy mind.

  He tripped through the doorway to find Angela moving excitedly from foot to foot.

  “He said yes! My boss said yes! You are all welcome to come as often as you like. He suggested having you on file as a substitute teacher so that we circumvent any issue with payment.”

  She spoke quickly, wringing his hand and then rushed back to a filing cabinet behind her desk. It opened with a loud scraping noise, but Angela didn’t seem to hear.

  “Paperwork, here you are. And here’s a key to the front door so that you can lock up after yourself at night. I think the fifth grade classroom would be the best. It’s the largest and has a good set of language books. The library is also available. Use it as often as you’d like. The librarian will set you up with a few cards.”

  Angela raised her shining face to David, who was quite bemused himself.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he said, stumbling for something to show his gratitude.

  “The Superintendent was thrilled at the initiative you’re showing. Before I could add in my reasoning why I believe this to be a wonderful enterprise, he started talking very quickly about why it is our duty as the American school system to open our doors to anyone who wants to learn. He’d like to come and sit in on your first lesson, if that would be all right.”

  “He wants to come?” David croaked.

  “Yes! I’m thrilled you came to me, David. Whatever made you think of it?”

  “School is the one place where people who are different can excel. This is the sort of opportunity, the safe place that I would like to give my students now. They deserve to be helped.”

  Angela’s face melted, and within moments her eyes were glimmering with tears.

  “Oh David, I wish I could’ve made life easier for you.”

  “We are forty-five, Angela. Now is not the time to look back on our childhoods with regret. Life has been kind to me. I’m still alive.”

  Angela looked as though she’d like to protest.

  “Thank you for all of your help. You have changed generations of lives here today,” David said, and rose from his chair, giving her a little bow.

  She held the door open for him. “It’s you who are changing them, David.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  6 November 1982

  AT THE END OF the lesson, David hunched over the desk, and tried to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder. The eleven-thirty advanced class had just finished. David had written out long portions of essays so the class might correct each other’s work. The exercise galvanized them: proud of what they’d collectively accomplished.

  Now that he thought about it though, it would have been more expedient for the students to write their own paragraphs on the whiteboard and make the corrections themselves. At the back of the room, David noticed a bowed head, making slow, mournful movements.

  “Mai?”

  Mai looked up and made a sweeping motion across her face with the sleeve of her coat. She grimaced and resumed packing her bag.

  “Mai, what’s the matter?”

  For two years now David had taught families of immigrants. He worked so much that he rarely saw any of his own family, a blessing in disguise. Hien Due had adopted him. There wasn’t a holiday or Vietnamese celebration where David failed to turn up on Hien Due’s doorstep. An outside observer might have thought it strange, the tall Caucasian in a sea of Indonesian faces. But David was as welcome as the rest of them. He was their hope.

  He fit into their circle as smoothly as a long lost cousin. He was given the biggest helpings of food, the choicest seat at the table, and gifted the loudest laughter at his jokes. The community felt (and rightly so in Hien Due’s opinion) that they owed their success and good fortune to David.

  Mai sighed and pulled David out of his reverie.

  “I’m sorry Mr. David. It’s been a long day,” she said, stuffing the last of her notebooks into the bag.

  A uniform from a local Dairy Queen caught on the edge of a book. David’s heart plummeted. She shouldn’t be working, he thought angrily. She should be studying, the community college she attended was known for being test heavy. If he hadn’t been so busy he would have realized sooner that she was overworking herself.

  “Mai, how much are you working?”

  He was overcome with emotion. He loved Mai like a daughter. She looked up, her features blank, as though he had said the very last thing she’d expected.

  “Thirty hours, more if I can get them.”

  “Why so many?”

  Mai dropped her head in shame. “My parents can’t afford tuition, and I’m so far behind on my bills that if I don’t pay it off before the end of the semester, I won’t be able to register for classes. I can’t concentrate anymore. My sister had a baby, and she cries almost all night. I don’t get any sleep. I work so much, I hardly have time for homework. The only time I feel myself, that I feel happy, is when I come to your class. Every other moment is a hell I can’t escape from.”

  “Why haven’t you told me? Why’ve you been paying for my classes? You don’t need them.”

  “You don’t understand Mr. David, this is all that keeps me going. You are the reason I was able to get into college. If I can get through this …” Mai struggled to put her pain and fear and shame into words. “If I can solve it, I can do whatever I want. I will have opportunities I never thought possible. I want to honor you. To show you that all your hard work hasn’t gone to waste.”

  David slumped against the desk. His eyes lost focus, and a memory of the first four students shoved reality out of the way.

  “You do honor me. Do you remember when, at the second meeting, that small room somehow held one hundred peo
ple? You all honored me by your faith and trust in a man you didn’t know. To have been a part of so many dreams–what more could a man ask? It has been my pleasure. My family would say, ‘have faith and God will see you through’. Quit your job tomorrow. Focus on your studies.”

  “But Mr. David!” Mai said, her head finally jerking up. “I must help my family. I must pay my bill.”

  “No, Mai. Quit your job. You must finish college if you intend to take care of your family in the long term. You cannot fail classes. You must show everyone your incredible thirst for knowledge. Show them that nothing will hold you back.”

  Mai looked at him through narrowed, suspicious eyes. He smiled, patted her shoulder, and offered her a ride home. Ten minutes later, when the passenger door of his car closed with a muffled thump, and Mai waved at him from her doorway, David was seized with purpose. The sound of squealing tires filled the street as he tore off in the direction of the college.

  “ACCOUNTING OFFICE, PLEASE,” DAVID gasped as he skidded to a halt in front of the reception desk.

  The college administration office was crowded with furniture, the walls covered with faded prints of famous paintings, and the carpet coughed up cigarette smoke with every step. Without a word, the receptionist pointed David off down the hall. She was clearly a student, paid to receive and greet visitors to the college, and she couldn’t lower herself to uttering a hello.

  “Can I help you?” the accountant said as David approached the counter.

  He was an overweight man with a long comb over and a thoroughly forgettable face. He smiled in a forced sort of way, as though his cheeks had long since frozen there.

  “I’d like to pay a bill.”

  “Student name?” the accountant said methodically, scooting his chair over to the massive computer that took up half of the workspace.

  “Nguyen, Du Mai.”

  “Can you spell that for me?”

  David was so engrossed with the man’s many wagging chins that he took a moment to answer. He spelled Mai’s name slowly, there couldn’t be too many Nguyens at the school. The accountant looked at the beige computer with a frown.

  “That’s not you.”

  “It could be,” David deadpanned.

  “Du Mai is a female student; age twenty.”

  “Her name is Mai. I’m a close friend and I would like to pay her tuition bill.”

  “You’re going to have to talk with my superior,” the accountant said, plopping himself back onto the chair which groaned loudly.

  David was stunned. He’d assumed this was going to be easy. How hard could it be for the school to cash a check? A woman walked around the corner, and down the carpeted corridor toward him. The fat accountant looked at David, and nodded in the direction of the woman. She was tall but in an apologetic sort of way, her clothes faded into the background, and it was obvious she didn’t want to be noticed. But her bright green eyes were striking.

  “My name’s Amanda Tate,” she said, extending her hand.

  “David.”

  “You’re here to pay Mai’s tuition?”

  Amanda’s voice was soft, and the gaze of her green eyes calm, unlike the stuffy overweight man at the desk. David followed Amanda down the quiet corridor, and into her small office.

  “If you don’t mind,” she began, motioning David to sit down. “May I ask how you know Mai?”

  “Not at all. I’ve been her English tutor for the past two years. She’s a hard worker, and I’d hate to imagine her not being able to attend school next term.”

  “You can, of course, pay Mai’s bill.”

  “And next term.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Actually, how many terms does Mai have left after this one?” David asked with mounting excitement.

  “Just two, she’ll graduate as long as there are no failed courses.”

  “Then I’d like to cover her current bill and the next two terms as well.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened until they resembled giant green discs. “Shall I run the figures for you?”

  “That won’t be necessary, although I do have another favor to ask,” David said, placing his hand on the desk. “I don’t want Mai to know that I did this for her. She would feel an obligation to repay me. Is there a way we might keep this between ourselves?”

  Amanda sat stunned. As David watched, her eyes glistened, and she swallowed hard, peering at him as if he were something in a zoo.

  “We could send her a letter telling her she’s won a scholarship,” Amanda said, her voice cracking.

  “I agree, name it whatever you like.”

  Amanda nodded. David got the total balance, wrote out a check, handed it over. He rose and thanked Amanda for her time and assistance. His heart felt lighter than it had in years. The amount on the check was equal, almost to the dollar, to what Georges had given him before he left Paris.

  “Mr. Golike?” Amanda said, calling him back. “May I ask you why you’re doing this? It’s an awful lot of money.”

  “I’m repaying a debt.”

  David rushed out of the administration building before he embarrassed himself by doing something ridiculous, like bursting into tears.

  FOR A WEEK DAVID felt as though he was walking on clouds. Visions of Mai’s face as she found out her bills were “miraculously” paid flitted through his mind like a highlight reel. Lately, it had been such a struggle to get out of bed in the morning; every muscle ached as if he’d run a marathon in his sleep. And even though sleep eventually came, rest was elusive.

  “She’s truly outdone herself this time,” David said, as he pushed himself away from the heavily laden table.

  It was Monday evening and Hien Due’s wife had cooked every single French dish he’d ever mentioned. The baguettes and bouillabaisse and French onion soup and ratatouille and poulet roti and chocolate almond cake were as good as he’d ever eaten in Paris.

  “This is why she invites you over so often. I do not show the proper amount of delight in her cooking,” Hien Due said.

  David raised his glass of wine, and settled back into his chair as Hien Due talked with gusto about a recently released opera, bemoaning the fact that Bunker Hill had no such culture. In the middle of discussing the merits of Verdi’s prolific works, the doorbell rang. Neither man moved. It was common for visitors to come and go from the house. Hien Due’s wife tottered off toward the door, smiling at her husband as she went.

  “Hien Due! David!” Mai screeched. She burst into the room in a flurry of smiles.

  “What’s happened, child? What’s wrong?” Hien Due said, clutching his chest.

  “Oh, you’ll never guess.”

  Hien Due pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. Mai fidgeted so much the armchair began to squeak in protest. David was resting comfortably after sharing three glasses of wine with Hien Due, and couldn’t rouse his brain to be curious about Mai’s sudden appearance. For the first time in days, he’d forgotten about the money.

  “Come, come, what is it?” Hien Due’s wife pleaded.

  Her apron was folded over her arm and there were small dark spots on her sweater from the dishwater. Hien Due leaned forward, his face peaceful as he took in Mai’s dilated pupils and broad smile.

  “This letter!”

  She shoved a crinkled letter into Hien Due’s hands and resumed her fidgeting. David looked at her with a tipsy smile. When Hien Due let out a loud gasp, silence fell on the room. His wife whisked around to read over his shoulder. When they had finished, David turned to Hien Due, and with a bemused expression waited for his turn to read Mai’s letter.

  It took a few moments to focus. He read the first line of congratulations to Mai, and grinned. Then the words ‘donor’ and ‘First Generation Student Scholarship’, and the entire episode broke through his wine-coated brain.

  Here was a situation he hadn’t anticipated. It never occurred to him that Mai would come waving her letter, and even if she did, he expected it to be in fr
ont of the English class or her group of friends where he could blend into the background. Noticing everyone’s stares, David quickly decided it was best to give a small gasp and let his mouth hang open.

  “How did this happen? Who did it?” Hien Due said after a minute of shocked silence.

  “I don’t know. I met with Amanda in the accounting office to discuss my bill, and she produced this letter, and said I received the scholarship, and that an anonymous donor had paid my bills from last semester, which the scholarship wouldn’t cover. I asked and asked who the donor was but all she said was, “You have a very good friend somewhere”.”

  “We have to celebrate! Champagne!” Hien Due’s wife squealed as she scurried off to the kitchen.

  “That’s not even the best part. David told me a week ago to quit my job and it took a few days before I could work up the courage to do it. I did last night, and I received this letter today. How could it be anyone but God?”

  Mai’s eyes glistened in the soft light from the lamps; she radiated happiness. David stared at her, admiring the change a small amount of money had wrought in her psyche. In the years that he had known and taught her, he had never seen her so overjoyed. She was floating on a cloud. It wasn’t God, but he didn’t mind if Mai believed that, he had no inclination of telling her, even the three glasses of wine weren’t enough to disgorge that little tidbit of information.

  “Who did it, Mai? Did you tell your family or friends about your bills?” Hien Due said, taking champagne from his wife.

  Mai leaned back and closed her eyes.

  “I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want to worry my family.”

  “You told me.” A long silence followed. “I wish I could have paid, Mai. I didn’t. I’ve been paying off bills from France with everything extra,” he said, careful to add a healthy dose of self-pity.