The Reeducation of Cherry Truong (17 page)

“I'd want my wife to come live with me in America,” he said. “I wouldn't want to live here.”

“Tuyet cannot leave her family,” Kim-Ly said, pausing carefully. “We'd have to come with her.”

Officer Anderson slowly nodded. “That can be arranged,” he said.

“You can come over for dinner tomorrow evening. We're having crab.”

The next day, while Kim-Ly personally supervised her servants as they prepared the meal and cleaned the house, she speculated about what living in America would be like. She heard that women worked equally among men in all professional fields. Though Kim-Ly felt proud of the accomplishments she'd made since her husband's death (a young widow of five children, investing the money her husband left behind to provide for her family), she knew her limitations in the patriarchal country. Her best business partnerships had been with Americans, who she found to be more open-minded and ambitious.

Tuyet and Tri arrived during the first course of dinner. They skipped through the door, giggling, ignoring their mother and older sister's glares, offering no excuse for their tardiness as they slipped into their seats. While Officer Anderson told a story about his first deployment in Korea, Tri interrupted him to ask for the fish sauce.

Officer Anderson declined to stay afterward for whiskey or coffee. He had a meeting in the morning. He shook everyone's hands good-bye, barely glancing at Tuyet.

“That's a very good man,” Kim-Ly told her children after he left. “He deserves your respect.”

“You're a little old for him, aren't you, Mother?” Tuyet asked, laughing.

She hadn't slapped one of the girls like that since they were small. Tuyet cradled her cheek, slouching back in her chair. Her children's eyes followed her, round and bewildered, as she rose from the table and left the room.

*   *   *

The girl arrived with her bastard in the late morning, as Kim-Ly had instructed, a solid hour after the family had all departed for work or school. She complained that there was traffic on the freeway. She'd obviously dressed the toddler in a new outfit: a plaid blouse and lime-green leggings.

Kim-Ly did not offer tea or sweets. They sat in the family room, where Kim-Ly had made sure to turn the television volume up after hearing the doorbell.

“I don't understand why we couldn't discuss this over the phone,” Kim-Ly said, leaning back in the purple corduroy recliner. “My son-in-law doesn't like strangers in the home when he is not here.” This was not true. Kim-Ly knew for a fact that Sanh was woefully apathetic about the friends his children invited over in the afternoons.

“I'd thought you wanted to see your granddaughter,” the girl said. “See how big she's getting? See how much she's starting to look like you?”

“I've told you before,” Kim-Ly said. “That is not my grandchild. If Viet says it's not his, then I believe him.”

The girl sighed. “Like I said, we can run a test. They do that. We can make this legal.”

“I refuse to waste money on what everyone knows, even you,” Kim-Ly said. “Why don't you go back to your family? They're in Houston, right? They have a responsibility to you.”

“Viet's family is responsible for me,” the girl said, her large silver hoop earrings swinging as she shook her head.

“That's a lie,” Kim-Ly said. “Viet said you've had many boyfriends and any one of them could be the father. You've only targeted our family because Viet has felt pity for you.”

“It's not pity,” the girl said, laughing, revealing the slightly blue molar in the back of her mouth.

“Viet has a new girlfriend,” Kim-Ly said. “A good, respectable girl. He wants nothing to do with you and your bastard child anymore.”

The girl simply smiled. “You're mistaken. Your son may respect you enough not to bring me to family dinners because you've forbidden me to come, but where do you think he goes afterward?”

“It's time for you to leave,” Kim-Ly said, one hand pressing against her chest. “You're raising my blood pressure.”

“Your blood pressure is fine,” the girl said. “I doubt you've ever felt faint in your life. But I have. Did you know that? Last week, I almost fainted. I wondered why, so I made an appointment with the doctor. And she told me, ‘Congratulations, Tam, you're pregnant again.'”

Kim-Ly stared at her, watching as the triumphant smile split across the slut's overpowdered face. No wonder the girl had been so confident walking into the house this morning.

“What do you want?” she finally asked.

“I'm going to need twice as much every month,” the girl said. “At least until the second grandchild is born. And then, of course, you know how expensive newborns are. We may have to talk again.”

*   *   *

Six months after the disastrous dinner, Officer Anderson called again. He'd recently returned to Saigon after being stationed in Manila for several months. He expressed concern about their family. The South Vietnamese troops had surrendered key areas in the Central Highlands, and rumors were circulating that the Communists could push farther south.

Kim-Ly told him how much her family missed him. How Tuyet regretted not being able to spend more time with him that evening. To Kim-Ly's great relief, Officer Anderson admitted he'd also thought of Tuyet while away. She suggested that the two meet for a private dinner, where Tuyet would not feel as nervous as she did when in front of her family.

Her daughter would not squander this second opportunity. Kim-Ly went to Tuyet's office at the press ministry. She didn't care that her daughter was sitting with her boss when she grabbed Tuyet by the arm and dragged her out into the hallway.

“You are having dinner tonight at the Majestic,” Kim-Ly said. “You will need to leave work early to change clothes. You cannot wear that in front of Officer Anderson.”

Tuyet pulled her arm away. “Who?”

“He wants to marry you,” Kim-Ly said. “He wants to take all of us to America.”

“That old American?” Tuyet asked, remembering, her face wrinkling into an ugly, spoiled frown.

“He is better than anyone I will ever find for you in this country. He can save our family. Do you know how many people would die for the opportunity to go to America? If you ruin this for us, there is no forgiveness for you.”

Her candor succeeded. Tuyet's indulgent expression and her haughty imperiousness were wiped away by Kim-Ly's good sense. She looked scared, but finally became aware of the gravity of their situation. “Okay,” Tuyet said, nodding. “I'll do it.”

Kim-Ly kissed her daughter on the cheek, her eyes moist with joy. “Good girl,” she said, pressing her hands into Tuyet's. “I'm going to go shopping for a new dress. Something that will look beautiful on you. Meet me at home after work, and your sisters and I will help you get ready. I love you.”

That afternoon, Kim-Ly found a pale yellow silk dress designed and made in France from an importer she'd known for years. Because of their long business relationship, Kim-Ly convinced the importer to let her purchase the expensive dress on credit. At home, she had Tri try the dress on to pair the best jewelry and shoes with it. Tri spun in front of the floor-length mirror in her mother's bedroom, admiring the lush fabric.

“I bet this looks better on me than it will on her,” Tri wistfully remarked.

“When it's your time,” Kim-Ly said, “I'll get you your own dress. Tonight is for Tuyet.”

At five o'clock, Hien arrived home from work without Tuyet. Hien said Tuyet had called her that afternoon and said she wouldn't need a ride home.

“It sounded like she had a lot of work to still do,” Hien said. “She said she'd be home later. Why?”

Kim-Ly called Tuyet's office. A disinterested man said Tuyet had left the office early and offered to take a message. She hung up the phone without saying good-bye. She turned to look at Tri, who lay on the sofa next to Hien.

“Go put your new dress on,” Kim-Ly said.

*   *   *

Duyen's eye watered as her mother dragged the charcoal eye pencil across her lower lid. Hien took a step back to look at her work.

“Too dark,” Tri said, shaking her head. “She looks like a whore.”

“It won't look as obvious when she's on stage,” Hien said. “Without it, her eyes will sink into her face.”

“Maybe we should try almond brown,” Tuyet said. “Ash black could still be too severe.”

The women debated as Cherry held a cup of soda out to Duyen, who sipped it through a straw. Duyen smiled at her cousin, then turned to her grandmother, who perched in a fuzzy waiting chair, and winked.

With the beauty pageant only a few days away, Kim-Ly's granddaughter still hadn't lost her composure, which couldn't be said about other girls in the competition. Ba Liem had heard from two separate sources that the Phu girl had thrown a temper tantrum after her makeup trial the day before. She threatened to take her business to the American mall in Costa Mesa if the Vietnamese cosmetology school couldn't take the job seriously.

Duyen was a finalist in the junior category of the Miss Little Saigon Pageant, the biggest community event aside from Tet in Little Saigon. Kim-Ly was thrilled, not only for her talented granddaughter, but also for the publicity it would generate for the salon as her official sponsor.

In the last three years, the family beauty salon had grown from two hairstylists (Hien and Tri) and two nail techs (Tuyet and her friend Khanh) to four full-time stylists, three part-time stylists, six nail techs, and a full-body masseuse who worked on weekends. A year ago, they leased out the empty space next door and knocked out the wall to make room for a bigger lounge, pedicure massage chairs, and a complete row of shampoo sinks.

Kim-Ly attributed the beauty salon's success to herself. Yes, the children handled the day-to-day operations, but who delegated? Who networked in the community to encourage families to frequent the salon and spread the good word? Their business had matured into one of the two busiest beauty salons in the Asian Palace Shopping Center, and the other one had been operating for over ten years.

Of course, their success did not come without growing pains. The children resented Tuyet bringing Khanh in as the second nail tech because they wanted to keep all the profits within the family and not have to worry about billing equal hours. Hien and Tri competed with each other for hair clients, and when Viet brought in some part-timers, the girls ganged up on the outsiders.

“Viet won't schedule me any good clients,” Hien accused one afternoon after Kim-Ly asked about the day's turnout. “I get five-minute trims and then have to sit there at my station and watch the part-time girls do the perms. It's humiliating.”

“The clients request specific girls,” Viet explained to his mother. “Is it my fault no one asks for her?”

“The girls flirt with him,” Hien said. “He gives them the good clients so they'll pay attention to him.”

“You answer the phone then,” Viet said. “Find out for yourself. You have plenty of time to do it anyway.”

In Vietnam, the children had been too frightened to bicker in front of Kim-Ly. Now, they argued in front of her all the time, sometimes forgetting she was even there.

Kim-Ly almost always deferred to Viet. As the only man, Viet lacked the petty competitiveness her daughters had leveled at one another since birth. After Thang died, Viet became Kim-Ly's last surviving son, and proved to be her only trustworthy child.

Viet turned thirty-four recently and while other mothers might have considered this an appropriate age to settle down and marry, Kim-Ly wasn't sure. He had not expressed any inclination to marry. While he liked to take girls out for dinner or dancing—Viet had always been such a social, friendly person—he confided to his mother that he often realized the relationships, after a few dates with a girl, could never work out.

Perhaps he felt wary because of his sisters' marriages. Kim-Ly couldn't blame him. Her sons-in-law had proven terribly disappointing, more concerned with preserving their pride than providing for their children. For example, the family business: Kim-Ly had made it clear that the sons-in-law should feel welcome to work at the salon under the supervision of Viet, yet all three declined the offer. She suspected bruised egos (Viet was younger than all three men), but was it any better toiling away at a water treatment plant (Sanh), getting passed over for promotions at the accounting firm (Chinh), or, worst of all, lying under broken cars at an auto shop (Bao)? In the salon, they could be with family who loved them and could watch over them (especially Bao, with his wandering eye). Alone at their jobs, they were only short, compliant Vietnamese refugees. What American would respect that?

Those macho men. That's why women had such an easier time transitioning to America than their husbands. They felt grateful for work and wasted no time dreaming or complaining. Men could be so shortsighted. Perhaps Kim-Ly's own husband would have had the same difficulty coming to America. In retrospect, she was glad Thuan died before all of this. He passed away with his dignity intact. And her eldest son, poor Thang: her smartest child, blessed with the sharpest business sense, the one who utilized his American connections in Vietnam to help their family prosper. He would have risen to the challenges of this new country. Her foolish sons-in-law did not deserve America.

While her daughters continued to hover over Duyen, debating whether she should wear her hair up or down (
Up,
Kim-Ly had suggested,
classier
), and Viet showed the new employee where and how to stock the new hair-product shipments, Kim-Ly walked to the back of the salon to enter Viet's private office, a door that usually remained locked.

Viet kept the day's earnings in a box safe under the desk. He usually waited until the register had five hundred dollars before depositing it into the safe. Kim-Ly typed a combination on the electric keypad and waited for the door to release. She pulled out four piles wrapped in rubber bands, and recounted the bills, because she knew Viet could occasionally miscalculate. Satisfied with her accounting, she slipped the four wads into the bottom of her purse. She snapped it shut.