Chapter 14
The sky had shed its black robe and put on an azure cloak instead. A faint blue color illuminated the pine forest. They were lounging on the ground now. Strewn around were grass and the browning evergreen leaves. Hà had snuggled into the other girl’s arms, head on her chest, and warmth against her cheek. She idly picked needles from the red hair. Seeing this, Bé brushed her own mane back and forth to get yet more things stuck in it.
“Now you’ll never finish,” Bé stuck out her tongue.
“Who said I wanted to?”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
“Mm.”
“Hey, I have this crazy idea.”
“Oh boy.”
“It’s not what you think it is.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Hà pulled back and examined the young girl with an inquisitive arch on her face.
“No I don’t, that’s why I’m hoping that you don’t think less of me when propose to you,” Bé reached into her bra; the sight petrified Hà in place. After fiddling around in there, she pulled her hand out and produced a palm-sized zip bag. “A ha!” she exclaimed.
“I’ve had better rings.”
“Pff, I’m sick of rings. This is better,” the American held the bag up so the moon illuminated its content. It looked like dark trimmings.
“Is that...OK, where did you get it?”
“From America, of course. It’s not like I have time to find any here in Vietnam.”
“Right.”
“You don’t sound impressed.”
“It’s just, well, isn’t it very dangerous to get it through security here?”
“I haven’t seen any drug dogs here. And, um… Yeah, I guess it’s kinda dumb, now that I talk about it?”
“You don’t look like someone who uses drugs though,” Hà sat up, reserved.
“No I don’t, that’s because it’s just weed.”
“It’s bad for you, right?”
“Uh, no more than a beer or a cigarette is. I mean, in comparison, It’s harmless, I swear,” Bé was stammering. “Damn it, I knew it was a bad idea. Look honey, I’m sorry. Forget I even brought it up. Let me put it back, and let’s go back to hugging, OK?”
“OK,” the Viet girl was still hesitant, but she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fixed on the little plastic bag.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Oh no, no.”
“Talk to me, then.”
“Alright. A few years ago, I found one of my younger sisters taking drugs with some of the girls in her school. It wasn’t any big, serious drugs like heroin, just tobacco. Not cigarettes, but it’s this… well I don’t know what it is in English, but it’s a strong type of tobacco. They helped her home. She was puking, not even awake. It was ugly. We were a very...how would you say it? Traditional? Conservative? So that’s our kind of family. She was OK, but I was mad at her. I was mad because it would have made my parents even madder. My dad will kick her out of the house if he knows.”
“It’s that serious?”
“Yes it is. I was mad because she didn’t take care of herself. She made a mess. My parents’ anger will be different. It will be because she makes them look bad in front of other people. They don’t have bad children, and they want to keep it that way.”
“Geeze, I feel so shit now. I’m so insensitive.”
“You’re fine. You didn’t know. And I know that you’re a good person. Maybe drugs are more normal in America. I know that not all drugs are the same, but we’ve been taught that way for… well, very long now. Also, this is not about whether I think drugs are alright or not. It’s about how I teach my sister. In the end, what choice do I have? If my sister is found out, I might have take my parents’ side, even if I think that they are too much.”
“Right, but wait a minute, you lost me there. Maybe I’m getting this wrong, but are you saying that you would rather kick your sister out rather than giving her the impression that you’re OK with drugs?” Bé was frowning into a squint.
“Um, yeah. Maybe it’s not as bad as that. I didn’t kick her out or tell our parents last time, but I also told her the same things as our parents would.”
“Like what?”
“Like, ‘Only bad people do drugs,’ or, ‘You’ll die in an alley.’ That stuff.”
“Heavy.”
“It is. I know it’s not always true, but it’s more important to me, as someone she looks up to, to not show that I disobey our parents. If children see cracks in the family, they will think we are weak and can’t raise them properly.”
“You sister isn’t a child, though. You told me she was only five years younger.”
“With her, it’s a big five years,” Hà intoned and sighed.
“Still, I don’t showing that you’re not completely on board with your parents is necessarily a bad thing. If you simply teach your sister the way you want to, then you’re teaching her that it’s OK to think for herself, figuring out what’s right and wrong instead of being told.”
“She knows how to think. She’s smart. She knows why I’m angry and yell and say terrible things. She also knows if she does get kicked out, I will the one to beg my parents to let her back in again. And she definitely can figure out what is right and wrong.”
“Then why do you bother doing those things at all?”
“For the family, for my parents. When she gets her own life, she can think and do whatever she feels is right. My parents? They won’t be here forever, and they won’t understand, and it will hurt them very much. All of my sisters have a lot of time to think, but the older people needs their rest, their peace. Right now, they need their family not broken. Even if it means I have to make my sister feel bad, so be it. It’s not easy, and I do get upset a lot. But I waited. Now, I will raise my daughter differently because it’s my own life. But with my sister, it’s still our parents’ house.”
“Yeah, OK. I see your point. Still a bit iffy, though. You know, I fantasize about having siblings all the time. Like, I would think about just the absolute best way I should go about treating them. In my head, it’s always going to be calm and collected, lots of talking, lots of hugging, lots of getting to understand one another. But, given your experience, I guess it’s not going to be the same in practice, huh?”
“Who knows? Might be because it’s different in Vietnam,” Hà pulled at the grass blades.
“Might be because I don’t actually know how hard it is to basically juggle between parents, two, three sisters, and my own self like you do. How do you fucking do it? I wonder, how much of it is actually just you fighting with yourself. You’re so contradictory, sometimes. For example, I’m guessing that they’re not keen on you staying out this late with another girl, right?” The redhead pointed to Hà, then back to herself.
“Would they prefer a boy?” Hà asked with her familiar arched brow.
“Haha, stop it. Anyways, you’ve asked me about why I did things to you, now it’s my turn. Why are you doing this to me? If you are so particular about your parents’ ‘law and order’, excuse me, then why are you here? At this hour? With an American girl who’s a terrible influence, no less?”
“... It’s my life. I told you before, I waited. I’ve been a good daughter. Studies, siblings, marriage, having children,” Hà mused at the thought, then glanced over at the girl. “I need a break. Something for myself, at least for tonight. Is that, you know...”
“...”
“Corny?”
“No, I don’t think so. It’s true for you though, and I believe it too. Again, it’s still very hard for me to completely wrap my head around this, and maybe I won’t ever understand you like another Vietnamese person would. Me? I can’t, and haven’t had to really put up with that much stress. Shit, when things get hard, I just bail. New York, in a way, is just more running away.”
“Is that why you use drugs?”
“What? No, I smoke weed because it’s fun. Come on, it’s not that depressing,” Bé threw a fist of leaves at the older girl. They laughed. “Here’s to hoping I don’t die in a ditch,” the redhead said, voice raspy as she laid back down in the grass. Hà chuckled tenderly, and then they watched each other in restrained silence.
Hà lowered herself and felt the red girl’s lips on her own. Warm exhalations. Beating, thumping, bursting, faster and faster. Sweet exchanges. Hands behind ears and heads, pulling closer, pushing further. Fingers in hair and hair brushing on skin. Laughing and gasping and sighing. Rolling, embracing, the suspension of all worries and regrets. A daze in a haze.
Then, Hà saw it. Bé had caught on fire. Her smiling face was framed with a field of red that melted into orange, gold, and an incandescent white. All the blues of twilight was washed away, for the sun has come.
