understand?”
He turned to the policemen and said to them in an authoritative manner, “Listen up, comrades. I let this woman go because she has shown genuine regret about her wayward, pre-Revolution life by giving up her only possession, her house, to the government. She is a positive example of how forgiving and perceptive our justice system is and always will be. We have successfully turned her from a bloodthirsty capitalist into a productive citizen, and an unselfish human being. We expect her to continue to evolve into a better and more prudent resident in this country. Congratulations to you, Khuon.”
She ran away from them as fast as she could and didn't pause until she reached her house.
THE NEXT DAY was my birthday, but it seemed just as ordinary as the day before, or the day after, since nothing would be done to make it any different. We had been back in Nhatrang for almost seventy-two hours. My family was too busy packing everything we owned to pay any attention to me. Only ten days had passed since the fall of Saigon, but I felt as though I had accelerated into adulthood with no brakes. We knew we had to vacate the house by May 12.
Just when the furniture was finished being packed and the suitcases were secured and everyone was ready to leave, the front door bell rang.
“The police are here. Kien, open the door to let them in,” my grandfather ordered matter-of-factly.
I rushed to the entrance and pulled off the plastic parchment covering the big hole where the door used to be. Standing in front of me was not a team of policemen, but rather an unkempt, tired-looking man. His hair had been shaved off, and his scalp shone under the sun. He had a beard, which covered the lower half of his face. The man looked at me and smiled.
“Hey, Kien, remember me?” he asked. I recognized his voice the moment he spoke. “It's me, Lam, silly boy. Where is your mother?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
C an I come in?” Lam asked, standing at the doorway. I stepped back. He walked in, turning around with curiosity to examine the disheveled garden behind him and the debris that littered the living room. A look of disbelief showed on his face.
“Dear God, what happened to this place?” he asked, but then the answer came to him. “They really wrecked the house, didn't they? Where is your —”
He stopped in the middle of the sentence, as he caught a glimpse of my mother from across the room. A hint of shame washed his dirty face with crimson. He stammered, “Hi, there. How are you?”
My mother stared at Lam through her narrowing lashes. Silently, she folded her arms in front of her chest and leaned back against the wall, unmoved by his discomfort.
He scratched his head with embarrassment. “Thought you would never see me again, didn't you? Well, what can I say? I didn't get away. As a matter of fact, you probably will be very happy to learn about my mishaps, one right after another since that day I left all of you behind.” He chuckled. “Damn, what a horrible nightmare. Twice at the airport I almost got killed. But thank heaven I didn't. Sometimes I wonder how a bastard like me could get so lucky. Anyway, I came here today for a reason. I was just wondering to myself if you would find it in your heart to take me back. Maybe in some way, I was hoping that you would be needing me.”
My mother's silence was deafening.
Lam's voice trailed off dejectedly. “Or maybe not.”
“Get out,” my mother said. Her voice was calm, but the hatred was clear in her face.
“Look!” Lam pleaded. “I know you are mad, and I don't blame you. But please try not to brush me away without listening to me first. In the last month, I have been to Hell and back many times over. I don't think I can take much more, not from you or anyone else. But believe me, madam, when I tell you this: I've learned my lesson the hard way. And whatever wrongdoings I did to you, I've been paid back, plus interest. I was robbed. I was beaten. And those
He turned to the policemen and said to them in an authoritative manner, “Listen up, comrades. I let this woman go because she has shown genuine regret about her wayward, pre-Revolution life by giving up her only possession, her house, to the government. She is a positive example of how forgiving and perceptive our justice system is and always will be. We have successfully turned her from a bloodthirsty capitalist into a productive citizen, and an unselfish human being. We expect her to continue to evolve into a better and more prudent resident in this country. Congratulations to you, Khuon.”
She ran away from them as fast as she could and didn't pause until she reached her house.
THE NEXT DAY was my birthday, but it seemed just as ordinary as the day before, or the day after, since nothing would be done to make it any different. We had been back in Nhatrang for almost seventy-two hours. My family was too busy packing everything we owned to pay any attention to me. Only ten days had passed since the fall of Saigon, but I felt as though I had accelerated into adulthood with no brakes. We knew we had to vacate the house by May 12.
Just when the furniture was finished being packed and the suitcases were secured and everyone was ready to leave, the front door bell rang.
“The police are here. Kien, open the door to let them in,” my grandfather ordered matter-of-factly.
I rushed to the entrance and pulled off the plastic parchment covering the big hole where the door used to be. Standing in front of me was not a team of policemen, but rather an unkempt, tired-looking man. His hair had been shaved off, and his scalp shone under the sun. He had a beard, which covered the lower half of his face. The man looked at me and smiled.
“Hey, Kien, remember me?” he asked. I recognized his voice the moment he spoke. “It's me, Lam, silly boy. Where is your mother?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
C an I come in?” Lam asked, standing at the doorway. I stepped back. He walked in, turning around with curiosity to examine the disheveled garden behind him and the debris that littered the living room. A look of disbelief showed on his face.
“Dear God, what happened to this place?” he asked, but then the answer came to him. “They really wrecked the house, didn't they? Where is your —”
He stopped in the middle of the sentence, as he caught a glimpse of my mother from across the room. A hint of shame washed his dirty face with crimson. He stammered, “Hi, there. How are you?”
My mother stared at Lam through her narrowing lashes. Silently, she folded her arms in front of her chest and leaned back against the wall, unmoved by his discomfort.
He scratched his head with embarrassment. “Thought you would never see me again, didn't you? Well, what can I say? I didn't get away. As a matter of fact, you probably will be very happy to learn about my mishaps, one right after another since that day I left all of you behind.” He chuckled. “Damn, what a horrible nightmare. Twice at the airport I almost got killed. But thank heaven I didn't. Sometimes I wonder how a bastard like me could get so lucky. Anyway, I came here today for a reason. I was just wondering to myself if you would find it in your heart to take me back. Maybe in some way, I was hoping that you would be needing me.”
My mother's silence was deafening.
Lam's voice trailed off dejectedly. “Or maybe not.”
“Get out,” my mother said. Her voice was calm, but the hatred was clear in her face.
“Look!” Lam pleaded. “I know you are mad, and I don't blame you. But please try not to brush me away without listening to me first. In the last month, I have been to Hell and back many times over. I don't think I can take much more, not from you or anyone else. But believe me, madam, when I tell you this: I've learned my lesson the hard way. And whatever wrongdoings I did to you, I've been paid back, plus interest. I was robbed. I was beaten. And those
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