Dragon House (34 page)

“Miss Iris, do you want me to open a window?” Thien asked, moving toward the wall.

Iris turned toward her, raising a hand. “No, no. Please don’t. I need some silence. I need to think.”

“May I help you?”

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“Soon. We are leaving soon.”

Iris sipped from a glass of orange juice that Thien had brought her earlier. “Are you all right?” she asked. “You look tired.”

“I am worried about Tam.”

“I know. I’m going to call the doctor just as soon as he gets to work. And I’ll have him stop by.”

“Will he help her?”

“I don’t . . . I’m not sure, Thien. I don’t know what can be done. He did more tests, you know. And the results weren’t good.”

Thien shook her head. “I should not be leaving you today, Miss Iris.”

Grasping Thien’s hands, Iris rose from her seat. “Please, Thien. Please don’t worry about us. We’re going to be fine. You’re just going for a day. That’s all. Everyone will be here when you get back, and it will be like you never left.”

“But there is so much work.”

“Please do this for me. For Noah. Go and see something beautiful. Please.”

Thien started to speak and then stopped. She felt the strength of Iris’s grip. She looked into her eyes. “We will be back tonight. And tomorrow I will work so hard. You can just rest.”

“That’ll be fine, Thien. Just fine. I’ll write a list of things for you to do.”

“A big list, Miss Iris. Please.”

The sound of a scooter’s engine springing to life echoed in the stairwell. “That’s him,” Iris said, leaning forward to hug Thien. “He’s waiting for you.”

“Are you sure? I think—”

“Go to him. Go and be happy.”

Thien nodded, rising on her tiptoes to kiss Iris’s cheek. “See you tonight.”

“See you then.”

Nodding, Thien moved to a nearby desk and picked up her Polaroid. She said good-bye and hurried to the stairwell, the beat of her heart moving with the speed of her feet. Now that she’d been released by Iris, she felt an unfamiliar sense of anticipation. Though she liked to visit beautiful places, Thien had done very little traveling. She’d walked throughout the valley where her father’s farm rested. She had been to the Mekong Delta and seen wondrous sights. But she’d never looked upon the sea, and from what she had heard of Halong Bay, it was a sight not to be forgotten.

Thien soon reached Noah. He sat at the rear of the idling scooter, a small pack on his back. “Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

She paused for only a second. Then she took his hand and sat in front of him. He reached forward and carefully withdrew the camera from where it hung about her neck. He put it in his pack, moving ahead until his chest touched her back. She felt something thump against her, and she wondered if his heart was beating as fast as hers.

“We’d better catch our plane,” he said, gripping the edge of the seat.

Thien saw his reflection in the side mirror and realized that he was looking into it, and at her. “Thank you, Noah,” she said, happy that the glass served to connect them. Though the mirror was pointed up too high and she couldn’t spot the road, she didn’t adjust it. She wanted to see his face.

“Let’s go find those dragons,” he said, smiling faintly at the glass, at her.

She twisted the throttle and felt him draw nearer to her. As their speed increased, the distance between them vanished. His hands wrapped around her waist, and he clung to her as they weaved around slower traffic.

 

 

TO NOAH, THE FLIGHT TO HANOI was like any other. The cramped conditions of the airplane cabin made his back and leg ache. He asked for a Tiger beer as soon as they left Ho Chi Minh City. The beer calmed his nerves—both mental and physical.

Thien had never been on a plane, and even the ancient Russian jetliner caused her smile to widen. She sat in the window seat, her eyes rarely straying from the sights below. She marveled at the shimmering sheets of rice fields, dozens of rivers snaking through lush highlands, and miles of coastline where frothing waves tumbled against deserted shores. Everything was so green, as if it had rained each day for a thousand years. Thien thought the undulating land looked like an emerald sea. At times she wanted the plane to go lower, so that she could more closely inspect this sea. But she also enjoyed the perspective that their great height gave her.

“I feel like I am on my father’s shoulders,” she said, turning to Noah.

“You do?”

“He used to carry me around our village, and I would feel so high up, like I was a bird.”

Noah saw her smile, and for the briefest of moments was jealous of her unburdened mind. “What did you see?” he asked.

“When farmers ride their elephants, they use a blunt hook to tug at their ears to tell them where to go. This is what I did with my father. I would gently tug on his ears and he would take me places.” She smiled at the memory and then reached into her pocket and withdrew a tangerine. “I saw so many things. People, streams, frogs in the rice field.”

“Why are you always eating those?”

She shrugged and offered him a slice. “Because I am hungry.”

“Why don’t you eat something that will actually fill you up?”

“Because then I would not be able to eat so many delicious fruits. And you would not get so many slices.”

He bit into her offering. “They are good. Thanks.”

The plane rumbled as it bounced through air currents. Thien glanced out the window, surprised to see that clouds surrounded them. “What is happening?” she asked, her tangerine forgotten.

“It’s just some turbulence. Nothing to worry about.”

“Turbulence?”

“The wind . . . or maybe your dragons . . . are making the plane shake.”

She searched the clouds. “If it is dragons, then we have nothing to worry about.”

“We don’t.”

“Do you want children?” she asked, still thinking about her father, about how many of her brothers and sisters he’d carried on his shoulders.

Noah moved his prosthesis so that less pressure was against his stump. “I thought Vietnamese were supposed to be private. And shy.”

“Whoever said such a thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do not believe they visited Vietnam.”

“Neither do I.”

The clouds parted, revealing a stunning shoreline of white beaches and green islands. Thien reached for her camera and took a picture. The camera ejected the photo, which she began to blow on. “Do you want them?”

“Want what?”

“Children.”

“Oh. I don’t know. Not now. And you?”

“I want many. Maybe five, six, or seven.”

“Seven?”

She smiled at his expression. “I want to laugh with them. To watch them grow. To feel the love between a mother and her children.”

He nodded, studying her face, knowing it would one day be filled with laugh lines. “You’ll be a wonderful mother,” he said, wanting to see her hold her child.

“How do you know that?”

“Because you love children. And I’ve never seen anyone as happy as you.”

She took his hand, her small fingers resting in his. “You can be happy, Noah.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

“You were happy yesterday, when Tam was on your seesaw. I saw you smile and I know you were happy.”

“But that’s . . . that’s just one moment.”

She continued to hold his hand, her thumb making small circles around his knuckle. “Yes, but maybe yesterday you had one moment. And today . . . maybe today you will have two. And tomorrow three. Maybe that could happen. If your life went from good to bad, why cannot it go from bad to good?”

Noah wanted to hold her, to pull her close against him and let her take away his pain. He knew that she could comfort him, could carry him to a place where life could begin again. He closed his eyes briefly, imagining them together in such a place. “I’ll try,” he finally replied.

“I will help you.”

“I know. I know you will.”

A thump sounded from below as the landing gear moved into place. “Is that Hanoi?” she asked, pointing out the window.

“Must be.”

“And we will take a bus to the sea?”

“That’s the plan.”

She squeezed his hand. “I have never been to the sea. Thank you for my wonderful gift.”

He wanted to tell her that she was the gift—a gift to the world, a gift to him. But instead he simply sat and let her hold his hand. He didn’t want her to pull it away. And when they landed he let her guide him into the light of day.

THE STREET SEEMED QUIETER THAN USUAL, and Sahn wondered if the weather was responsible. Showers the previous night had burdened the air with moisture. There was no breeze to sweep the city’s scents inland or to the distant sea. On such days, Sahn’s eyes bothered him the most. The blurred objects before him seemed to emanate heat as if from the embers of a fire. He wanted to step from this fire and into a cool and dark place.

Holding a folded newspaper in one hand, Sahn proceeded to a small park near the city’s center. Massive trees cast long shadows on the sidewalk, and Sahn felt the touch of the shadows the way someone else might feel the fingers of a lover. He walked to a tree and sat down, resting his back against its trunk. Unfolding the newspaper, he pretended to read.

As he flipped through the pages, he listened carefully. Though the raid on the brothel would occur many blocks away, Sahn hoped he’d be able to detect the sirens. They’d tell him what he wanted to hear—that his fellow police officers were storming a brothel offering the services of young girls. Through his network of informants, Sahn had discovered the existence of the brothel and had notified his superiors. It had taken two days to organize the operation, and Sahn had barely slept those two nights, worrying constantly about a betrayal within his station.

Upon pretending to reach the end of the newspaper, Sahn stood up. He walked to a garbage can and threw away the paper. Where are those sirens? he wondered, once again exposed to the merciless sun. Gripping the handle of his baton, he gathered his will and walked away from the brothel. He didn’t want to be seen near it, regardless of what happened with the raid. Better that another officer got the credit, as well as the inevitable offers of bribes. Recognition wasn’t in Sahn’s best interests.

The owner of a noodle stand said hello as Sahn passed. He had tried the woman’s food before and thought it overpriced and bland. But he returned her greeting. Perhaps someday he’d eat again at her stall and ask what occurred in the park after the sun set.

The distant sounds of sirens caused Sahn’s feet to hesitate and falter. He listened carefully to the sirens and thought he heard four police cars. Good, he thought. Now show your strength and let everyone see it.

Sahn had asked permission to interview each girl who was taken from the brothel. He wanted to know where they’d come from, how they were forced into such work, and, most important, if any of them could be saved. If he believed one or two of them could be, he’d talk with Thien and ask that they be taken into her center.

He had thought about the center a great deal over the past few days. As he’d suspected, finding a swing set had been difficult. In the end, he had made an agreement with six shopkeepers whose stores were often broken into. The arrangement was simple—Sahn would extend his beat by a block and would look after these stores. He’d do that for a year. In return, the shopkeepers would pool their money and buy a new swing set.

Thinking of the swing set, Sahn walked toward the center. The squat building soon confronted him. Stepping past the gate, he moved inside. No noises came from upstairs. Curious where everyone was, he walked through the kitchen and into the playground.

He heard the American’s voice before he saw her outline. She might have glanced up at him as he approached. She sat on the ground while four figures occupied a bench in front of her. One of them appeared to be under a blanket.

Iris paused from reading to look at him. “Hello,” she said. “May I help you?”

He shook his head, wondering if she was glad to see him, if she understood how he tried to protect them. “Not now,” he replied.

“I just opened a book. I’m going to read a story.”

“Good.”

“You don’t mind waiting?”

“No.”

“Well . . . thank you.”

Sahn didn’t turn away and seek someplace quiet to sit. Instead he studied the four figures, finally recognizing Qui and Tam. He listened to Iris read a story about a British family who lived in India. At first Sahn didn’t like the family, for he knew that the British had colonized India in the same way that the French had occupied Vietnam. But as the story unfolded, he was captivated by the tale of a mongoose that fought cobras to protect a young boy. The mongoose was named Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. Sahn had never seen a mongoose, but he’d heard of them, and he grew to admire Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, who risked his life in an epic struggle to rid the family’s garden of cobras. The mongoose was cunning and brave and loyal, and his dedication and love for the boy were commendable.