The Unwanted (37 page)
I didn't have time to grieve. There were so many errands to do before my mother's arrival. In the course of one day, I picked up the airplane tickets, acquired proper vaccinations, and received a complete physical examination.
That night, from the window, I watched my mother walk in from the dark and slippery alley. Jimmy and BeTi followed, tired and cranky from a long trip. Along the walls of the neighboring houses, the shadows of my family danced like string puppets from a children's show. Rose petals littered the wet ground, rotting among the rocks and broken glass. From the way they smelled and the dirt on their clothes, I knew instantly that my family had taken the train to get here.
I turned on the porch light, waiting for them to stumble into the house. Mrs. Dang's parents sat quietly at a table playing cards. A pot of tea that had long lost its steam sat untouched in front of them.
My mother moved across the threshold. An eerie, golden stream of light washed over her face. Her features grew distinct under the light, and I saw that her eyes were full of sadness. A black cotton band, wrapped around her right arm, served as a reminder of the departed. The expression on her face was the same as it had been on the day she lost her mansion. All of life's injustices suffused her gaze as she stared into a void past my face.
I broke the silence to ask her, “Mother, how did it happen?”
“I don't know,” she replied. “I woke up yesterday morning and found him dead on his bed. He must have gone in the middle of the night. Maybe he died from a heart attack, or maybe he just didn't want us to worry about him anymore.”
My poor grandfather! Even in his death, he was being considerate of our future.
A couple of teardrops fell down my mother's cheeks. Soon we all wept with her.
Suddenly, I remembered my brother's dog, and I asked him, “What happened to Lou, Jimmy?”
Jimmy answered, “Duy Tong adopted him. He seemed happy in his new home.”
“What is going to happen to Grandpa's funeral?” I asked my mother.
“Your aunt's family will arrange for the funeral,” she replied. “We'll be on our way to Thailand that same day.”
“We may not be allowed to leave, Mother,” I said. “I can't get them to sign that paper for us. Unless you got somebody to endorse it for you in Nhatrang, I don't see how we can get out.”
She wiped her tears and cleared her throat. The hoarseness vanished from her voice, making way for a sudden determination. “Don't worry, son. We came this far. We just have to keep going. There is still one more day for us to try.”
E
xplain your case to me one more time. Did your mother own that house?” I sat at the edge of my seat across from the chief of the Real Estate Service. He bent his head, scanning through my file. A pencil spun maddeningly in his hand. Outside the two windows of his office, the city bathed in a serene and casual afternoon light. On a windowsill, a bug crawled toward a branch of a lemon tree and fluttered its wings.
“My family owned the house,” I explained, pushing a pack of expensive cigarettes toward him. “My uncle owned the land.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why isn't his signature on this paper? Who inherits the house now?”
“I assume it now belongs to my uncle, sir. We abandoned it two days ago.”
The chief shook his head and sucked his teeth disapprovingly. Closing my file, he slid it across the desk back to me. “I can't sign this paper,” he said. “It is useless and illegal. Go back to Nhatrang, get your uncle to straighten out this mess, and come back to see me.”
“But sir, I can't do that,” I protested. “We are leaving tomorrow.”
The officer burst out laughing. I closed my eyes, expecting another rain of tasteless jokes.
The chief leaned closer to me until his face was inches away. I noticed a few strands of untrimmed hair protruding from his nostrils. They trembled every time he breathed, like the bug's wings on the windowsill. “How badly do you want me to sign and stamp this paper?” he whispered. “Would you trade your soul for it?” A trace of humor appeared in his eyes.
I turned away from his stare, unable to answer. The officer continued to laugh. He threw the folder in my lap and waved his hands. “Get out of here,” he said. “You are wasting my time, dumb half-breed.”
“Please, sir,” I begged. “Find it in your heart to help me. I will forever remember this act of kindness.”
The chief leaned back into the leather chair, throwing his feet up on the desk. His lips tightened as he regarded his perfect manicure. In desperation, I sank to my knees and crawled around the desk to his side. “Please, have pity on me,” I begged again, kissing his hand. “You are my last hope. I promise I will be out of your life forever.”
He shook me off and wiped his hand quickly with a white handkerchief. He got up, poured himself a cup of tea from the pot nearby, and drank it slowly. I remained on the floor, waiting. Finally, he threw me a look of disdain.
“Come back tomorrow,” he said. “And bring a gift with you. I don't do anything for free.”
“But, sir,” I protested, “the airplane will leave tomorrow morning.”
“Like I said, I'll sign that paper tomorrow when you bring a substantial gift with you. Otherwise, we'll have nothing to do with each other.”
His gaze shifted toward the windows where the lemon tree shimmered in the sunlight. I picked up my folder and left.
THAT NIGHT
, except for BeTi, no one in my family was able to rest. On the floor, my mother lay still, deep in thought. Next to me, Jimmy tossed and turned. All the doors and windows of the cabin were open to provide relief from the humidity. Rose petals followed the wind into the house and scattered on the floor like droplets of blood. The night was shrouded in fog, and on the table, a clock ticked loudly.
On my side, I curled up with my knees in my arms. Emotions paraded through me: sadness, pain, regret, and desire. Outside, a weak moonbeam shone its silver light through the window. I watched a wave of moths twirling in the field of light, crashing into one another as if suicide were their ultimate goal. I wondered how long it would take before I burned the last of my energy.
“Kien, are you awake?” Jimmy whispered to me.
I turned to face him.
“What is going to happen tomorrow?” he asked.
“You will go to the airport with Mom and BeTi. I'll meet up with you later, after I get the paper signed.”
My mother spoke up, her voice filled with worry. “The airport will be closed at eleven o'clock in the morning. Make sure that you meet us there on time, with or without the signature.”
“Yes, Mom,” I promised. “I'll get there before eleven.”
MORNING CAME
with a sudden burst of cold air. My mother got up first. Noiselessly, she disappeared behind the bathroom door with her toothbrush while Jimmy, BeTi, and I got dressed. My brother and sister dressed in their new outfits that my mother had bought recently for the big day. Dapper in a white shirt and blue gabardine pants, Jimmy looked as shiny as a brand-new penny. His black sandals were also new. My sister wore a purple dress a size too big for her thin body. Nevertheless, it made her happy. She smiled, showing her two large front teeth like the famous Bugs Bunny.
I picked out an old shirt and a pair of torn khaki pants. For my last meeting with the real estate officers, I wanted to convey my impoverished condition. A strong and unsettling angst stirred up inside of me, making my heart race and my head reel as if I had the flu. My clothes were not thick enough to shield me from the cold. I huddled back under the sheet to keep warm.
Soon, my mother emerged from the bathroom. She too had changed into her nicest outfit, the familiar blue blouse with tiny gardenia flowers and a pair of black nylon pants. At the table, she placed a bottle of cognac, two cartons of cigarettes, and a few packages of dried squid jerky into my knapsack. Handing it over to me, she ordered, “Take these things to the chief deputy in exchange for his signature.”
In the kitchen, Mrs. Hom appeared, bringing with her a pot of sticky rice and mung bean. The sweet smell of breakfast woke Mr. Hom. He got out of his bed and yawned loudly, groping for his slippers in the dark.
“Have some food before you go,” the old lady invited.
WHILE MY FAMILY
headed for the Tan Son Nhut airport, I walked over to the Department of Real Estate for the last time. My mother handed me four hundred dong and her watch so that I could keep track of time. The waiting room of the office was empty, draped in a sickly green light. I sat on the wooden bench, in the same crude, unfriendly spot where I had spent the past five days. Outside, the sun was rising. Its golden light filtered through the wood panels of the windows, dappling the walls of the room in tiny dots.
An hour later, the officers began to arrive in groups, discussing the latest soccer scores noisily among themselves. The moment the chief of the Real Estate Service appeared at the door, I shot up from my seat. Holding a cup of coffee, he walked past me without acknowledging my presence. Before I could greet him, he disappeared behind a closed door.
A secretary pointed at me and laughed out loud to his colleagues. “Take a look at that boy,” he said. “Still here, kid? I thought your flight to America was scheduled today. Why are you still mopping my seat with your half-breed ass?”
I looked away, choking back a lump of frustration.
Time ticked slowly by. People came and went, bringing with them large sacks filled with presents. Some would leave in a few minutes, happy. Others who shared my ill luck stayed behind and waited. Finally, at nine-thirty, I gathered my courage and approached the secretary's desk.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said, pointing at the chief of the Real Estate Service's office. “May I see the officer now?”
“No,” he answered without looking up at me.
“Please, sir?” I waved a carton of cigarettes in front of him and added, “It will only take a second.”
He grabbed the gift from my fingers. “Hurry up,” he growled.
I hurried past the array of desks that filled the room, and knocked at the officer's door.
“Come in,” a familiar voice answered.
I entered. The chief sat on his leather chair facing the windows. His nimble fingers swirled a pencil so fast it made a visible circle around his hand. He turned around and looked at me.
Reaching inside my knapsack for the gifts, I set each item on his desk carefully. His half-shut eyes moved from my face to the presents. The bored look never left his face.
“Please sign my paper,” I stammered. “I have to catch a plane soon.”
He picked up the cognac bottle and examined it. “Go outside and wait,” he said.
“I have to get this paper signed as soon as possible, sir. I can't miss my flight.”
He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his arms. “Hey, don't you have any faith in me? Have a seat and wait. Outside.”
I left his office reluctantly, returning to my seat. Another half hour went by. The urge to scream or to break something mounted in me with each second. Finally, I shot up from my seat and stormed outside.
The secretary's voice echoed in my ear. “See you tomorrow, half-breed.”
On the street, I looked around for a taxi. My watch indicated I had forty-five minutes left to meet up with my mother at the airport. In my head, an incendiary anger burned so intensely I could hardly see straight.
At the corner, a rickshaw pulled over to my side. “Can I take you somewhere, mister?” the driver asked me.
I nodded and hopped in. “Tan Son Nhut airport,” I told him.
“Definitely, for a small fee of forty-eight dong,” he chirped and began pedaling his three-wheeled vehicle into the middle of the street.
I sank back into the fake leather seat, too crushed to make a sound. The city passed in flashes of blurry images. Passersby stared at me as if they had witnessed all the indignities I had just gone through. Houses with red tile roofs and alleys that I had walked by so many times all pressed up against my eyes. Then everything faded away. The rickshaw carried me out of Saigon as the wind brought fresher air, diminishing my anxiety.
“We're here,” he announced.
A hundred yards in front of me, the airport's entrance was jammed with taxis, buses, and motorcycles. Across an immense field of wild reeds, a couple of gray buildings huddled close to one another, receding into a haze. The road that led to them was interminably long, baking under a hot sun.
At the front gate of the airport, a policeman stopped us. After examining the rickshaw driver's ID carefully, he said, “You don't have a permit to take your vehicle inside.” Turning to me, he scanned my passport. “Young man, you have to either walk or find another way to get to the waiting room.”
“How far is it from here?” I asked him, at the same time paying the driver his fare.
“About two miles,” the policeman said. “They are closing the door soon, so you better hurry.”
My watch showed ten minutes to eleven o'clock. “How am I going to get there in ten minutes?” I cried.
Crouching among other drivers near the entrance, a young man in a striped shirt got my attention. “Hey,” he yelled, grinning from ear to ear. “You want to hire me? I can get you inside.”
“Okay,” I said quickly.
“How much money do you have?” he asked me.
I reached inside my pocket, pulled out a wad of bills, and counted. “Three hundred and fifty-two dong are all I got,” I said to him.
Swiftly, he grabbed the bills from my hand. “It's fine. Wait right here.”
The sun rose higher, roasting anything that lay under its reach. The coachmen withdrew inside their vehicles to escape the glare. When the young man reappeared, in his hands, a rusty motorcycle rolled along the road like a faithful pet.
“Here she is,” he said proudly, patting the seat. “We are all set to go. By the way, there is a tiny problem with this vehicle. You need to help me push-start the engine, because she can't start by herself. Once she gets going, you can jump up behind me.”
I sank to the ground. With each new obstacle that I encountered, the level of difficulty grew. This one, I was sure, exceeded my capacity. The young man hopped on his bike, turned around, and beckoned for me to start pushing. An electric current pushed me to my feet.