Naked in Saigon (7 page)

I hurled the last of my things into my suitcase and sat on the lid to shut it. I was so angry I could barely get my breath. These...these
fucking
men...they had you once and they thought they had you for life. I thought Connor was different but he was just like all the rest.

Damn that Reyes.

Seven years, he could still take my breath away. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? Even out there on the terrace I could still smell his sandalwood aftershave, feel the heat of his body from the other side of the table.

“Damn you,” I said aloud and went to raid the mini bar. I took out a handful of miniatures and sat down on the bed to drink them one at a time.

I would tell Connor my decision tonight when he got back, and tomorrow I would get a flight back to New York.

Sitting on the roof terrace of the Caravelle it was possible to watch the war while enjoying cocktails and a leisurely dinner. White-jacketed waiters moved among the diplomats, correspondents and American businessmen while dusk settled over city, throwing the silhouettes of the palm trees along the Saigon River into sharp relief against a violet sky. Soon it would be time for the Air Force to start carpet-bombing again.

Connor looked desperately tired. He’d hardly spoken at all through dinner and I waited for my moment, carefully rehearsing in my head what I was going to say.

I wondered how he would take it.

“Connor, I’ve been thinking about things, and maybe it’s better if I went back to New York.”

He would look disappointed, then relieved.
“Good idea, honey. I told you that you’d be bored out here. I’ll see you back home in a couple of months.”

But was that how I wanted it to play out, or would that just be delaying the other conversation we have to have?

“Connor, I’ve been thinking about things and maybe it’s better if we took a break from each other to think about things.”

“What do you mean, honey? You want to separate?”

Was that what I wanted, to break up the marriage? I hadn’t thought so until I saw Reyes again. But what kind of marriage was it when all you could think about was your ex?

And if we did break up, then what would I do, move on to the next lover, and pretend to be happy until the next time I bumped into Reyes in some bar somewhere in the world?

“I know what your friend’s so nervous about,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.

“My friend?”

“Angel. Isn’t that his name? Doesn’t seem very appropriate.”

“It’s not.”

“You know I walked out of the press briefing this afternoon at JUSPAO and this little kid ran up and stuck this in my pocket.” He threw a small glassine packet on the table. I picked it up. There was a few grams of white powder inside.

“We saw that kid giving these out on the way in from the airport that first day.” I said.

“That’s right. And I’d just heard the press officer telling some reporter from NBC that there was no heroin problem among the soldiers here in Saigon. And there isn’t a problem--these guys can get this shit anywhere. They’re throwing it at them in the street.”

The glasses on the table rattled as the carpet-bombing got under way in the north. It was like being in the middle of an earthquake. The flash of the bombs flickered against the night sky like sheet lightning.

“The embassy says they can find no evidence that the Vietnamese government is involved in selling heroin to US servicemen in Vietnam. But the reason they can’t find any evidence is they studiously refuse to look for any. Here we are, defending democracy for them, while they’re turning our boys into junkies. What’s going to happen to these kids when they get back to the States? They won’t give them this shit for free in Detroit or Pittsburgh.”

The trouble, I realised, was that I admired Connor more than I loved him. He was a good man, he believed in what he did and he had the courage to see it through. But he bored me.

“All they care about is beating the communists. Well maybe the communists aren’t the danger after all, perhaps guys like Angel are the real evil here.”

“Don't you ever wonder if it’s worth it?” I said.

“What’s that, honey?”

“All of this. You’re right, of course, but this world’s always been a dirty place. You uncover one can of worms, there’s always another one. You’re not going to change it.”

“All it takes for evil to flourish is for good men to stand by and do nothing,” he quoted at me.

“Maybe you’re right, but ever since I was a little girl in Cuba I’ve heard people talk about peace and justice and all we got in the end was Castro and dead presidents.”

“I can’t walk away from this.”

I nodded. “I know you can’t.”

“I know I drive you crazy, but you knew this about me when you married me.”

I finished my drink. He was right; I did know that about him. It seemed glamorous then, being with a white knight who believed in something, the sort of man Papi might have approved of. But being with a man just because you thought you should wasn’t a very good reason.

“Are you still glad you married me?” Connor said, and I felt my cheeks burn, knowing I’d given myself away.

“Of course I am.”

“You’re such a bad liar.”

“I do love you, Connor.”

He smiled at the way I had sidestepped him. He took my hand and looked at me in a way he hadn’t looked at me in a very long time. “I don’t know what I’d do if you ever left me. I mean it. I’d die without you now.”

I felt the trap spring shut.

That night he made love to me, nervous as a teenager. We seemed to be so out of tune with each other now, I was only partly engaged, and he grew frustrated when I could not come. He kept trying until I made him stop. I eased him on top of me and he made love to me with something like desperation. Even after he came he wanted to stay inside as if this was our very last time.

Did I want it to be?

“I've lost you,” he whispered.

“Shhh,” I said and stroked his hair and held him. I felt his weight on top of me, suffocating me, like the guilt of my secret knowledge. At last he rolled away and we lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, listening to the slow whirring of the overhead fan. I was naked in Saigon, my husband’s fingertips resting on my thigh, my mind lost to him, far away and far back in time.

I loved Connor because Connor was safe. There were no highs like there were with Reyes but at least I knew he loved me and he’d never leave me. With Reyes there was always that doubt. Besides, he scared me. If I gave him my heart and it all fell apart again I’d lose the last of my dreams. This was my last buck, and if I gambled and lost, what was there left? Maybe I’d rather leave it in my purse for a rainy day.

Twice now we had walked away from each other. We had such volatile temperaments, how could we ever make it work? Perhaps I needed someone like Connor. He needed me, Reyes didn’t.

I missed how it was with Reyes. It wasn’t because of the passionate sex; it was that the sex was so passionate because of everything else. Somehow we were made from the same stuff he and I. It was what brought us together and what dragged us apart. He was like a drug to me, and I got angry and scared when I wasn’t getting enough.

Maybe love was meant to be peaceable. Reyes was the kind of man you have a wild affair with but he wasn’t a guy who could build you a white picket fence.

So what was I going to do?

I resolved to stop this and drag myself back to our marriage. My feelings had to be reined in. I would not let them endanger the meagre safe house I had finally built for myself.

Chapter 12

It was six thirty in the morning and we were sitting on the terrace of the Continental Hotel, watching two young
bonzes
going from shop to shop on the other side of the square with their begging bowls. The terrace was separated from the footpath and the phalanx of bicycles and mopeds in the square by long cement flower boxes littered with cigarette butts. I wondered if they were ever going to clean them.

A white-jacketed waiter brought our breakfasts - boiled eggs, slices of paw paw, café au lait. So this was an unexpected luxury, having breakfast with my husband. He hadn’t rushed out this morning; last night’s fight had stayed with both of us and he was making an effort to placate me, though twice I caught him stealing glances at his watch when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Connor wasn’t classically good-looking, what had attracted me to him was his intensity, the way his eyes shone when he talked about the world and politics and his work. They were ice blue and they reminded me of Reyes. But Reyes’ passion had always been reserved for me. With Connor I always had to compete with his work and most times, like now, I came off second.

When I married him I thought I could relax; no more pretty boys who break your heart and marry into the mob, no more gun runners who disappear off the face of the earth every few months then come back and expect to take up where they left off as if nothing had happened. Here was a guy who knew right from wrong, someone I could rely on. I had imagined a man like my papi.

But it hadn’t turned out like that.

When I looked back, the only time I had ever found happiness was the one time I hadn’t planned for it to happen, with the one man I never trusted, the one least like my father. It had scared me out of my wits. When you have happiness you have to control it, have all the pieces perfectly in place, or else you’re going to lose it.

When Connor talked about kids I was surprised that it was me that wanted to put it off. I heard myself saying:
I don’t think it’s time
.

You couldn’t plan it out in the end; you couldn’t make a list and find happiness when you finally ticked everything off. It was an unpredictable accident. I didn’t even know if there was such a thing as a happy ending anymore and if there was I didn’t have the first clue how to find it.

I just hoped it was out there, somewhere, waiting for me.

I reached over the table and took his hand. “Let’s go home,” I said.

“Just two more weeks.”