The Unwanted (13 page)
Love thy country. Love thy neighbors.
Be a good student. Be a responsible worker.
Get along with thy friends. Keep in line with the law.
Take good care of thine own hygiene.
Humble. Honest. And courageous.
“Excellent.” She clapped her hands together. Droplets of sweat fell from my forehead to the desk below, vanishing quickly into the wood's rough surface. “What's your name?” she asked me.
From somewhere in the room, before I had a chance to answer her, a voice mumbled, “Half-breed.” The rest of the children laughed.
“Silence,” she said to the classroom. Turning her good eye in the direction of that sudden outburst, she remarked, “That is a horrible thing to say to one of your classmates. You children should be ashamed of yourselves.”
Studying the wet spots my perspiration had made on the desk, I decided at that moment that my teacher was one of the loveliest persons I had seen in this new town.
Despite the ridicule, I received a red neckerchief that day—the first boy in my school to be granted such an honor. My teacher said that it signified my commendable behavior as one of Uncle Ho's good children. I was to wear it every day on my shoulder, until its color faded. Then, and only then, would I become the perfect citizen the country had long waited for.
That night, when it was time for dinner, my grandparents realized Loan's absence and began to search for her in panic. She did not return home until after the curfew. In her arms, she carried a large cardboard box, which she set outside before entering the house.
Loan walked up to my grandfather, who sat in his favorite rocking chair reading a book about Zen Buddhism. She knelt before him. My grandfather stopped reading to look at her. His eyeglasses slid down to the tip of his nose.
“Uncle,” Loan said, touching the soft fabric of my grandfather's pants with her hands. “May I have a moment of your time, sir?”
He nodded. “Tell me what is on your mind, little girl.”
“I came with a purpose in mind—to bid you farewell, sir,” she said quietly.
Everybody in the room looked at Loan with surprise, but no one said anything. We all waited for my grandfather to respond. Closing his book and setting it down on the floor, he spoke in a voice that seemed sad, but contained no trace of astonishment. “Where are you going?”
“Uncle, a couple of days ago, Mr. Tran gave me a pamphlet about an organization called The Young Volunteers,” she explained. “It got me thinking about my future. So, this morning I went to the Community Center and spent the whole day there, meeting with some of the comrades and getting to know more about the assemblage. I found out that the group's main purpose is to enlist young people all over the country to aid the armed forces. The group is basically a supportive branch of the military. Although there are no more battles to fight, the country needs a lot of help to clean up the damage that was done during the war. I figured since I am a cleaning maid, this sounds like a job for me, so I signed up. It only takes three short years out of my life, but in the end, my resume will have a good recommendation by the government.”
From the door, Lam interrupted. “Oh, God, she is talking crazy.” He took a step toward her. “Yes, you! You are crazy, Loan.” Then he turned to my grandfather. “She will do no such thing. Stop her, Mr. Nguyen. Stop her from making a fool of herself.”
Loan resumed her conversation with my grandfather as if she did not hear Lam. “I did join the corps, Uncle, without your permission, but there wasn't time to ask for it. I am leaving tomorrow morning. The group sent everybody home tonight to pack and bid farewell to loved ones. I don't have any relatives left since my father died. I only have you. Uncle, even though you would never admit this to me, I know you blame yourself for what happened to my father. Both of you may have been hit by the same bullet, but he was the one who got killed and you were spared. So what if that was how it happened? You have done nothing but good deeds on my behalf since the first day I came to this family. I beg of you, no more guilt. I want you to know that I understand. You don't owe him or me anything because it was fate that killed my father. I also want to thank you from the bottom of my soul. Uncle, I am saying good-bye to you now, because I have to leave at three in the morning. Thank you for loving me all these years. Once my term of service is up, I will be back to see you again.”
My grandfather took Loan's hands in his and blinked several times. “I understand, little girl,” he said. “Promise to take care of yourself, and stay out of trouble?”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
They hugged each other; however, the embrace was short and spiritless. Turning to my grandmother, Loan smiled. Her fingers touched the wrinkled skin of my grandmother's face with tenderness.
“Take care, Auntie. I love you,” she said.
“Do you know where you are going? Can we write to you?” my grandmother asked.
“I don't know much about the future, Auntie,” Loan said. “I was informed only that we are heading to Hue, on foot. We will stop along the way to help people build new houses, pushing the jungles back to gain more land, and clean up the debris from the war. This will be a challenging experience for me, and I am afraid that I won't have a steady address for quite some time, Auntie. I will write regularly, though.”
“Sounds like you have everything planned already.” My grandmother chuckled. “But I have no doubt about your abilities. You are a good girl, Loan. Come back to us soon.”
She turned to my mother, who stood in the middle of the room. Loan's eyes avoided my mother's stare to look at the floor. My mother broke the uncomfortable silence between them. “To set the record straight, I never asked you to leave the house, Loan. I just want you to know that.”
“Yes, madam, I know. I never wanted to leave either, especially now that your baby is coming. But I have my reasons for leaving. Please take care of yourself.”
“Don't leave because of Lam.” The light reflected in my mother's dark eyes as she glared at her boyfriend.
Loan turned to Lam and said in a low tone, “Good-bye, Lam. Take care of my mistress, and treat her well, because she is having your child. If you wrong her, I will make certain that you'll pay for it when I come back, and that is my solemn promise. Don't interpret it as an empty threat. You and I should never have been together in the first place. I may have had no choice in the past, but as for the present and the future, I choose to leave so that you can stay.”
He did not reply. Instead, a corner of his lip twisted into a disgruntled smile.
Loan turned to look for my brother and me. She knelt down, beckoning us to walk into her outstretched arms.
“Look at you,” she whispered to me, touching the bruises on my face. “What did you do? Get into a fight? I just leave you alone for one day, and you are already getting yourself into trouble? Listen to me, I won't be around anymore to take care of you. You have to take care of yourself and your brother. Help your mom with the baby when it comes, yes? And most importantly, don't forget me.”
“I won't, Loan. I'll miss you,” I told her.
“I know, sweet angel.” She smiled. “I got you a present for your birthday. Something sensible for you to practice your skill before the baby arrives. Want to see?”
I nodded. She ran outside and returned in a moment holding a cardboard box in her hands. Then she lowered it to my eyes' level. There was no cover on top of it. Jimmy and I both looked inside and saw a puppy, huddled in a corner and looking up at us with large, black eyes. Its body was covered with short, brownish fur. It had droopy ears and a nose that was so wet on its short snout it shone like a brand-new button. Upon seeing us, the dog cried softly. I was so excited that I kissed Loan all over her face.
“Go ahead, touch her,” Loan whispered. “She is yours, Kien.”
I reached inside the box and touched the puppy. Its fur felt like velvet. Then I picked it up and held it close to my chest, feeling its heart beat wildly. The dog looked up to lick my nose; and that simple act created a bridge of trust between us. I looked down at the puppy's face, resting against the thin fabric of my pajamas, and a feeling of calm swept through me.
“She is two months old, Kien,” Loan said. Her voice seemed far away, since all of my attention was devoted to the small creature I held in my hands. “I have good news and bad news for you,” she continued. “The good news is that she is weaned from her mother, so you can feed her food, starting tomorrow. The bad news is that she has a slight birth defect. As you can see, her front paw is deformed. She can only walk on three legs. I picked her out for you because she needs a lot of attention, and that is going to be good practice for helping out with the baby, Kien. Think of a nice name for her, will you?”
Turning to my brother, she said, “I didn't forget about you, Jimmy. The puppy is partially yours, and you can help Kien take care of her. You are still too young to have one on your own. So for the time being, you have to learn how to share.”
Jimmy nodded, his eyes fixed on the puppy.
Loan then asked my mother, “Madam, is it fine with you that the children keep the dog? I am sorry for not asking you first, but I do want to leave them something to remember me by before I go.”
My mother nodded hesitantly. A thought flashed through my mind, and I told Loan, “I have a name for her, Loan. I want to call her Lulu.”
“Lulu is a beautiful name,” Loan said. “Where did it come from?”
“She looks like Lulu.”
“The British singer?”
“Yes, I like her songs very much.”
“Okay, Lulu it is. Maybe someday this dog will learn to howl
To Sir with Love
for a living,” Loan said, and everybody laughed except my mother.
That night, Lulu slept inside her box next to me, her body curved into a half circle, her nose hidden in between her paws. The next morning when I woke up, Loan was gone.
E
very day at five in the morning, before any activity could begin, the adults in my neighborhood were required to come out of their homes and salute the flag, while a loudspeaker played the national anthem. Afterward, the Communists held meetings at different houses in the vicinity. The agenda at these gatherings usually involved the teachings of Karl Marx, or the reading of Communist poetry, or the examination of each individual's behavior toward Communism. Sometimes, instead of the usual “new-education” meetings, the town's citizens formed groups, walking from door to door to pick up trash until every street in town was clean. Today, it had been decided, would be the investigation day. And since she was the newest person in town, my mother was the target of a group discussion.
In front of a crowd full of sleepy faces, my mother was directed to speak about herself, not as a form of self-introduction, but in a confession of her past sins against the Communist party and the new government. Standing alone onstage with a microphone in her hand, my mother rushed through the major events of her life, trying to convey enough sincerity to keep herself out of trouble. She acknowledged her guilt and ignorance during the Republican era, and praised the enlightened attitudes she had since learned. Her Communist vocabulary had improved a great deal through her encounters with Mr. Tran, and she incorporated his words into her speech, maintaining her eye contact with everyone except Lam. He sat among a group of men, acting as inconspicuous as possible.
When my mother had finished, the community leader stepped up to the podium. Unlike Mr. Tran, who had earned his position through spying, the new leader was a high-ranking officer in the Vietcong's military. He was in his early fifties, with thin silver hair and a catchy smile. He had spent the past ten years of his life in the Truong Son Mountains, trekking the Ho Chi Minh trail. Rumors had it that he was now waiting to be reunited with his wife and children.
Taking the microphone in his hand, he said, “Thank you, Miss Khuon. What a story! Does anyone care to give any feedback? It is time for some constructive criticism, so without further ado, let's start. May I remind you that each time anyone among you makes a statement, he or she will earn a point toward community work.”
A man stood up. My mother recognized him as one of her regular customers at her bank during her pre-Revolutionary days. A chill shot through her, since his appearance conjured up in her mind the hundreds of angry customers who had confronted her only a short time ago. As for the man, earning up to thirty points would exempt him from a day of volunteer work in the jungle; however, he also understood my mother's capacity to hurt him, through her knowledge of his past business affairs.
He cleared his throat and said, “It was a sincere story, told from the heart. But are you leaving out any details? I want to know more about your personal life. Do you have any children? And how many? Have you been married?”
The Communist leader looked at my mother, waiting for her reply.
“Well, to tell the truth,” my mother began, mechanically touching her stomach through her blouse, “I have never been married. I have two sons, and a new child on the way.”
“Tell us about your sons,” a voice said. It belonged to a woman who lived in a farm a few blocks away from my house. She was the wife of the town butcher.
“What do you want to know about my sons?” my mother said. “They are still very young.”
The butcher's wife stood, looking up and down at my mother. Then she blurted out, “I've been watching you since you moved into this neighborhood. I don't need you to tell me how old your children are. What I want to know is the nature of their ethnicity. Are they half-breeds or not? Because if they are, it is an issue to us.”
“Yes, they are.” My mother swallowed.
“Then how did you get these children—through a catalogue?”
“I got them the same way you got your children, through intercourse, of course.” My mother's answer stirred up a round of laughter in the crowd.
The community leader warned my mother, “Behave yourself, lady. This isn't a nightclub.”