“Lei, just eat your rice,” Mi warned.
Lei dropped her spoon and haltingly said, “Brother, well, eh, . I made one mistake. .”
Minh and Mi both stopped eating and looked at Lei.
“I’ll tell you if you promise to forgive me.”
Minh nodded. Lei went on, her eyes downcast.
“On the way from school I bumped into Shoan. She said she was going to Dong Dao to check. . she was in tears because she thought you might be among the dead fighters laid out there.”
“So you told her I came back home.”
“Yes, I told her you came home last night. She was really planning to go to Dong Dao, you know. I had no choice. So, she might come by here.”
“You weren’t thinking,” Mi said reproachfully. “You were told not to tell anyone until Minh gets everything settled. What if word gets out? Then not even Quyen can do much and Minh would be bound to be sent to the prison camp.”
Sometimes when deserters from the NLF came home they were denounced by neighborhood informants and sent straight to prison camps. In such cases they were treated differently from defectors. There was a six-month investigation period. If you came up with enough money you could be released and find a way to enlist in the ARVN, otherwise you might disappear without a trace. The same was true of civilians caught in the combat zones, and there was no way out at all for those confirmed to be NLF volunteers. But Minh was not too concerned about it. It was just too painful and too intimidating for him to have to put on an act to persuade Shoan of the change in his situation. He finished his meal in a rush and gulped down the cold green tea. Then he asked Lei, “You know where the house in Son Tinh is, don’t you? Where Big Brother lives with that woman?”
“Why. . you said he was already here.”
“I have to see that Dai Han woman.”
“No, Mi and I don’t like to be harassed by Big Brother.”
“He said it was all right with him. Where in Son Tinh is it? Here, draw a map.”
“Shoan said she’d be coming by.”
“I have no time to see her. That sour face. . really, I don’t care to see it.”
Lei peered over at Mi. “Sister. .”
“Go ahead, show him how to get there,” Mi spat out, lifting her chin as if uninterested. As she gathered up the dishes she added, “Minh is getting to be just like Quyen.”
Lei picked up a pencil and began sketching a map. “Well, at this tennis court turn right and then it’s the fourth house as you go up the hill. The steps are steep. It’s cement, painted white. Got it?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Minh took the map and got to his feet.
“Why do you want to see her?” Lei asked.
“To get a job, all right? She should be able to persuade Big Brother, that’s why.”
“To get a job?”
“Yes, a job. I’ve got to make money. I mean to get out of this country. I’m planning to go abroad and become a surgeon.”
The two sisters exchanged looks.
“Brother. . do you really mean it?”
“I’m borrowing your bike for a little while.”
Minh hurried off. Lei looked at Mi with a vacant face. “Brother Minh is like a different person.”
“Yes, and he’s not on our side anymore.”
“Well, I think I can understand. I’ve seen many boys go through a change just like this.”
“He’s much meaner than before he went off to the jungle. Minh in the end will turn out even viler than Quyen, that’s what saddens me the most. The kind of man a Vietnamese woman can love has either lost his life or is off somewhere far away.”
Lei shook her head. “Little Brother isn’t like that. There must be some reason.”
“You’ve seen him for yourself. I heard him arguing with Quyen, I heard every word he said. He was begging Quyen, saying he didn’t want to die. In spite of myself I couldn’t help crying. . and I never felt so lonely.”
“Sister. . it’s all right to think your husband is the finest man alive. I still like Minh the most of any man in the world. I’m going to comfort him.”
Nevertheless, Lei, too, could not help but feel an emptiness in the heart that had overflowed with pride in the midst of hushed whisperings back on the night of Minh’s departure. From then on, when the nights were punctuated by gunfire and flames, Lei would feel humiliated just as Minh himself could only feel self-reproach. Her own brother had turned out to be a deserter from the Liberation Front.
As he rode slowly up toward Doc Lap Boulevard, Pham Minh caught sight of Shoan coming from the far side of the street. She wore a white ahozai with her long hair pulled neatly back and was walking with her head down as if peering at her own sandals as they popped out in turn from under her long skirt. Minh almost called out to her, but then quickly turned the handlebar, slipped into an alley, and pedaled off at top speed. Then he slowed down and looked back, but Shoan already had crossed the intersection. He pushed the pedals at a leisurely pace and headed down toward the shore. Barely three days had passed, but he found the silence and the city routine insufferable and felt a terrible temptation to run from all responsibility.
Back in psychological warfare training he remembered reading a poem that a defector to the NLF had passed around. Back then it had seemed silly enough to toss in the trash, but now it kept coming back into his mind:
Mother, since leaving your side I’ve been marching with my comrades. I trudged over the mountains and crossed through Laos to come to the heart of Vietnam. My courage didn’t fail as I marched through the rain. Now, I am here in a strange place, yet my own country just the same. I’m looking around me and thinking: What is it that I must liberate? The marketplace is crowded and noisy, the rice shoots in the field are billowing before the breeze, there is the sound of a temple gong in the distance, children are playing in the schoolyard and the singing of a choir can be heard. Butterflies are busy flying over the flowers in the bok choy field, and I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to liberate.
It’s true: anybody who’s worn out or who gives up self-discipline for a while is bound to become conservative. City guerrillas especially, he had been taught, must battle against the temptations of city life. Fight against time, fight against self, and most of all, fight against the loneliness of being separated from the organization. Minh passed trees lining the road and turned right past the tennis courts. The wind off the ocean blew his shirt and his hair. He took out the map and looked it over, then stopped by the bottom of the stairs below the fourth house.
The scent of the flowers was overwhelming — the strong fragrance of iris almost made him dizzy. He slowly climbed up the steps. Beside the white wooden gate there was a doorbell. He looked through the wooden lattice into the front yard of the house. This place was not Vietnam. From the dewy freshness of the palm leaves it seemed the garden had just been watered. He rang the doorbell. No answer. He tried again several times but there was still no response. As he turned to head back down the steps, from inside he could hear the sound of a glass door sliding open. Minh turned back once more and stood waiting at the gate. The hall door opened and a woman in a yellow beach robe craned her neck out and asked in English, “Who is it?”
“Is this the residence of Major Pham Quyen?”
“Yes, but he’s now at the provincial government office. You should contact him there.”
“I’ve come to see you.”
“Me? Who are you?”
“I’m Pham Minh, the major’s younger brother.”
“Ah, I think I’ve heard about you.”
The woman came outside in slippers, treading on the stepping stones, and opened the side door. She smelled of shampoo. So she was taking a bath, Minh thought as he looked straight into her eyes. More beautiful than he had expected. Her skin was lighter than that of a Vietnamese woman and her full breasts billowed inside the beach robe. The sight was blinding. Quyen had already accomplished his first goal — he had created a neutral country right here, surrounded by the war-torn city of Da Nang.