Chapter 11
Among all of the villas on this hill, they stopped at an overgrown garden that hid a country home style cottage. It had a brick chimney and an acorn-shaped mailbox. There were garden gnomes toiling around an inactive stone-and-marble fountain. There in its tepid water, a small sparrow frolicked amongst floating leaves. The woman said that this was her friend’s place. The woman would borrow the mostly unused house every time she was in between jobs. She explained to Carlos that the place was virtually inaccessible because it was built up to be a retreat for the old money type, where they would sometimes fly in with helicopters, if they couldn’t stand the ferry. Being the youngest resident around, Miss Mulway was likely the only one working. She chuckled when she had to say that she was young. Carlos had wanted to ask what line of work she was in, but apprehension won over the shy boy. He just wanted to look at her all day, and it seemed to him that she also had his girlfriend’s complete attention. They walked through the garden, on cobblestone steps, and into the house.
The humble exterior betrayed how spacious the living room was. Almost everything was wood, dark finish, draped over by white linen. It did look like how those old children’s book would illustrate a witch’s abode. Seeing the reaction on Carlos’ face, the lady smiled and said that the furnishing was intentionally corny because the owner had planned to rent it out, banking on the novelty factor. The boy only passively nodded, wishing he could say more but couldn’t. Mai had already made herself comfortable on the brown leather couch. She was fidgeting, stealing curious glances at the older woman.
Carlos volunteered to make tea for all of them. Partly, he wanted to make himself useful, as this day was about Mai, who he knew needed to talk to their host. The other part, he wanted to remove himself away from the mature lady’s presence. Yet, even with her sitting strides away and him busying with the kitchen cabinet, he could still feel her there behind him, on the skin of his shoulders and the back of his head. Mai was talking and the woman listened. His girlfriend sounded upset, and she was stuttering. He couldn’t make out what it was about. However, from context, it was most likely about her the funeral. When he came back with the tea, Miss Mulway had taken off her sunglasses and was talking. Other than Mai, she was the first vaguely non-white person that he saw these past days. Although, he didn’t even have full confidence in this thing.
“...I’ve had an uncle who was diagnosed with skin cancer. I mean, forgive my layman’s understanding, but out of all your optio- Oh, thank you Carlos,” she smiled, and that made Mai smile too. She turned to the Asian girl and spoke in a lowered voice as if she was sharing a secret, “You’re in good hands!”
“Sit next to me, Split,” Mai was being subtly sweeter than usual, even though she still had that spacey look in her eyes. “You were saying?”
“Oh yeah, so uncle, skin cancer. Long story short, he got through fine, but cancer and uncle Johnston was all anyone ever talked about for a good 2 years. After that, when it was all over, none of us could believe it. We got so used to the idea of living with this shadow over us that we, in a way, refused to go back to our normal selves. Really, don’t take this as me minimizing your what you’re experiencing, and I know it’s very trite to say this, but it ends.”
“I see what you mean. I don’t know if I necessarily see myself as ‘refusing to move on’. Shit, it’s just… It’s just mom died so suddenly, right? All these years, she didn’t once tell me what she was going through. Mom would just come home and eat dinner, and we would play with the cat. So I guess I never had that chance to get used to the idea of death like with your uncle, you know? There’s nothing for me to move on from because there’s zero closure. Zero! All that life is just...just fucking gone!
“Be honest, do you think it’s my fault? My fault that she never had the chance to be young? No, it’s not that silly of an idea. I’ve thought about it a lot, what would hindsight being 20/20 and all, right? Everyone, though, knew that she had me early, too early. Instead of dumping my ass off to my grandparents, she raised me herself and still made it through college. Then she met you, and oh, was it ever sweet for her. But mom couldn’t pick up and move because she had me, so she had to settle with telling the same story, the same memories again and again, longingly. At first I thought it was only this cool friend that she had, right? But I’ve seen my parents fight. She never cried then. But once in every blue moon, she would get smashed alone and recall the story, that story. Always the bar and how cool it was and how she regretted coming home early and not spending the night. Then, she would go into to the fucking bathroom and bawl her fucking eyes out into a towel. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it was up to me to do something about it. Look, I knew I could have paid her back. I could have given her a life, you know. She could have moved to New York with me after her divorce. I could have gotten a work visa, and maybe I would even help her find you even. I would have given her everything back. I would gladly kill myself if it meant she could be 20-something again. But oh no, that woman had to go and die without me. Now I’m stuck with things all screwed up, she was all the family I got. And I have to go on living, knowing that it was all because of me. So-much-for-fuck-ing-closure.”
“Mai! Honey, look at me,” The woman reverberated low and warm, yet also stern. Mai had been escalating to the point of wilding out, slamming her chest with both fists, and pushing her lungs’ capacity to scream. She moved next to Mai and rubbed the young girl’s back. Though steadfast, the mature woman was trembling. Her eyes were red and teary. All Carlos could do was to place his hand on Mai’s in that reassuring way that they do to each other. After a while, the Viet girl stopped hyperventilating. She collapse into her boyfriend for a hug, and Miss Mulway touched her on the shoulders sympathetically. Holding the girl, Carlos felt all the weight in the world.
...
Mai was respiring regularly, now. She looked up to her boyfriend, then to the older woman. The sun was so bright outside that the windows had simply appeared white. Yet, the cozy cottage hid the three of them in cool shade. The moment seemed to still. Mai had exhausted herself for now. Carlos was to be queasy from agitation. He knew her, but not this way. Not this angry. Not this self-loathing. He found himself sincerely missing the road trip here, back when he was still in the dark about Mai’s inner troubles. Now faced with undiluted truth, with such clarity, Carlos couldn’t help but think an apocalyptic threshold had been crossed. He felt genuine fear. A minute that was becoming too long passed. Finally, the girl croaked through her parched throat, pitifully like a student in front of the principal's desk,
“I’m sorry for my outburst. I’ve told you this, and I’ve told Carlos this. I’m a mess. It’s that dam breach,” she exhaled in defeat.
“Mai. It’s quite alright. We’re just trying to work through this our own way. And no one is more affected than you are,” it was masterful to Carlos how the lady had kept her composure, even if she seemed shaken, while he was feeling weak at the ankle. Mai immersed back into her own thoughts, zoned out, and her face contortions relaxed. She softly began,
“Can I call you Bé?”
“I...Sure, honey.”
“Hey Bé?”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, here’s some closure: When I was small, and mom was telling me about you, I would try to imagine what you looked like, but none of it was ever… good enough. Bé, you’re more than enough.”
“Thanks, dear,” the woman choked back. Mai had this peaceful look on her face. She was resting against Carlos’s chest. He played with her hair. Bé was sounding even more raspy now, “I’ve thought about her a lot over the years. Her and you. I often asked myself if you would take after her, if you would even look or sound like her.”
“I don’t have her lips. Hers was thin,” Mai puckered and looked down at them.
“Heh, well, can I tell you something?”
“Yeah?”
“All of this?” Bé made a circle around Mai’s face with her finger. “It’s so bizarre. If I’m being honest, it has been so long, and I find it harder and harder to remember that girl back then. Some nights, I would just lay there and wrack my brain trying to, in a sense, reconstruct her face. Usually, it’s picking this person’s nose, that person’s mouth, like that. But I would never get it right. The face would just be a soulless thing. I know it’s a face, intellectually, but it would never be her. But this? I-it’s like she’s here in front of me again,” she paused for a sip of tea and exhaled in joy. “I guess that’s my own roundabout, non-cliché way of saying ‘you are the splitting image of your mother’.”
“Thanks,” Mai smiled coyly and broke eye contact. “I still can’t believe you guys never took any picture together.”
“No, and that’s a shame. There were these official-ish photos that we were given, but your mom wasn’t in any of them. I didn’t worry too much because I thought for sure we would meet again or at least write to each other. But life has that special way of making years disappear. Before I knew it… well, you get the idea. I could have asked for a few more, but the only lead I had was my stepfather at the time. He doesn’t go to Vietnam anymore. And right now, we’re not exactly on speaking terms. Plus, that was, what, near 20 years ago? I doubt any photo from my visit is left. Maybe it’s for the best, haha. That way nobody knows about my crazy college hair.”
“You know, I found one. Mom had always kept this one picture of you and some of the Vietnamese dudes working with her.”
“Oh my god. Those guys were practically shoving each other.”
“You made them look like smurfs. I remember the first time mom showed me that picture. I was, what, 12 back then? Yeah. So, right then, I thought to myself, ‘God damn, people back then were that curvy?’”
“Stop it! The dress my stepfather made me wear was one size too small, and it was horrible. Yeah, you heard that right. Everything had to be perfect-o for that ass,” Bé winced. “Anyways, it makes me a very happy woman to hear that your mom had a keepsake, and that she thought about me from time to time. Even if she has never replied to any of my mail.”
“Um, Bé. There’s actually more than that. Remember how I said, in my first call, that I only found your postcard? I’ve gotta come clean. I found everything,” Mai was talking in this somber tone, and Bé listened intently with her brows coming in tighter and tighter with each word. “That’s how I figured out so fast that there was more to her story than just ‘meeting an American actress.’ She never told me how much of it she had, so I had no idea if that was really everything. But when I cleaned out her things, there was this big stack of letters, all labelled with either ‘Elizabeth Mulway’ or ‘Liz Herring’. But I knew that they were all the same person because they all used the same silly nickname. She had them in this big jewelry box that grandma gave her. It looked like she treasured them a lot. And here’s the thing, there was also this note, her handwriting. It was dated right after your first letter. Obviously, she never went through with replying to you, but she… well, she did write. She wrote about her life, me, and if you were here, the cool places she would take you. Just you.”
As she listened, Bé began smiling at first, yet that smile slowly morphed into something else. She covered her face with her hand, trying to hold back the gentle sobs, but tears were already running down her fingers. By the time Mai was done, there was a long and tense beat before the woman muttered imperceptibly,
“I can’t believe it. She’s gone. She’s gone.” Mai held the woman close. She continued this soft damp whisper, “I would get in front of the camera and think, ‘I’m just busy right now, but once all of this is over, I’ll finally go visit.’ I had no idea what I could possibly say to her. Shit. She had her own life, she had you. I was young, Mai. I thought I could always go back, and she would always be there. And we would always be the same as that night. And I would make it right for her. I was just so damn young,” Bé cried out. Mai only silently rocked her back and forth like a parent calming their love.
The young girl closed her eyes and had her face in Bé’s black curls. Bé was red, twisted in pain. What had been a confident and stoic mature figure minutes ago crumbled down into a small girl within another small girl. She screamed into the girl’s black denim jacket as if to vomit grief from her body. Mai was peaceful, tearless, and stoic. She looked up, turned, and reached out for her boyfriend. Their fingers intertwined. And as if by a force of conduction, with his girlfriend as the medium, Carlos felt his eyes well up and his nose run. His own dam had broken, and he felt his frustration, sadness, anger, and indignation ebb away and replaced by a vast and unending mental image of an ocean at twilight, where the blue had washed away the sunset. Carlos had never met Hà.
