Beyond the Blue

by Leslie Gould

  Three hours later the doctor saw Binh. “He needs stronger medicine,” she said. “More expensive medicine.”

  “What about tubes?” Lan shifted Binh to her other hip. “Can you put tubes in his ears?”

  The doctor laughed. “Who have you been talking to?”

  Lan nodded at Older Sister.

  “Are you from America?” The doctor picked up a penlight.

  Cam My nodded.

  “You should take him to America, then, and have tubes put in his ears,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. She examined Binh’s mouth and throat. “His throat is infected too. And his teeth are worse. He’s going to get abscesses soon.” She counted nine pills from a jar and slid them into a small bottle. “Give him three a day—morning, noon, and night—under his tongue until they dissolve. That will be a hundred thousand dong, plus the twenty thousand dong you already owe.”

  Lan patted Binh’s back and shifted her eyes to the concrete floor. Cam My quickly pulled the money out of her purse. “One hundred twenty thousand dong, just under nine dollars U.S.,” she said. “You would have to pay ten times that in the U.S. for a doctor’s visit and medicine.” Lan raised her head and nodded, smiling slightly at her sister as she swallowed the uneasiness that had pooled in the back of her throat.

  Cam My called Quan and told him to meet them at the shack midafternoon. Then she hailed a taxi, and they headed toward the orphanage for Mai. Binh curled up in Lan’s lap and fell asleep. Older Sister reached out and stroked his hair, pushing it from his sweaty forehead, and then she took Lan’s hand and held it for just a moment. “Would you reconsider sending him to America? He would get the medical and dental care he needs. He could have permanent hearing loss if these infections continue, and his teeth really are awful. He would also get an education. Almost all Americans who adopt send their kids to college or at least offer that to their children. And if not, he could work and pay for it on his own.”

  The taxi driver turned onto the main street. A truck honked. A scooter swerved in front of them. “When I took him to the orphanage with the baby, he cried and cried. He was miserable.” Lan braced herself, her foot pushed against the floor.

  “Most of them are miserable at the orphanage. But they do fine when they’re adopted.”

  “Older Brother thinks it’s wrong to give up a child.”

  “He’s never cared for a child, has he? He doesn’t know what it’s like to scrounge for food and medicine, to know your child will never be educated, to lose hope.” Cam My pulled her cigarettes from her bag.

  “I’m hoping he will help me with Hang and Binh.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. He’ll go back to Hanoi soon. If he was going to help you, he would have by now. You’ve been here all along. He, unlike me, knew where to find you. He doesn’t mean to be cruel. He just doesn’t comprehend your life.” Older Sister paused. “How ironic that now that I’ve found you, I may not be able to come back to Vietnam.”

  They rode in silence. Older Sister lit a cigarette and rolled her window down a crack. Lan longed for her to stay. How much easier life would be if Older Sister were with them, especially if she had her American money.

  When they arrived at the orphanage, Lan touched Cam My’s arm. “Can you go up and get her while I stay with Binh? I have a permission note from Brother, signed Tran Van Quan. Don’t tell them he’s our brother, though. I don’t want them to know.”

  Older Sister flicked her cigarette out the window, climbed out of the taxi, and headed up the stairs of the orphanage. Lan stroked Binh’s hair. She didn’t want him to wake up and see where they were.

  Cam My held Mai as they drove away. The baby smiled up at her. “She’s beautiful.” Older Sister turned toward Lan. “Do you ever think of how things would have been if there hadn’t been the war? If we hadn’t all left the rubber plantation?”

  Lan nodded. All the time.

  “Older Brother would be the foreman,” Cam My said. “Father would be an old man.”

  “Second Brother would be married and have children.” Lan stroked Binh’s cheek.

  “Chi would have children by now. I’d be a grandmother.” Cam My touched the tip of Mai’s tiny nose with her finger.

  “And I would have a husband, and all my children would be with me.” Lan took a deep breath.

  Older Sister shook her head at Lan. “Let’s not think about it. It hurts too badly.” She looked back down at Mai and smiled. The baby began to cry. Cam My put her over her shoulder and patted her back. “They said she’s had a little bit of diarrhea. And that she needs to get plenty to drink.”

  Lan nodded.

  “I’m sorry it’s hard to see her.”

  Lan nodded again. “Mother and Older Brother don’t understand. It eats me up. When I don’t see her, I try not to think about her, or I think about how good her life is going to be. But when I see her, then I think about everything I’m going to miss.”

  “I know,” Older Sister said. She rested her head against Lan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.

  Lan turned her head toward the window. She didn’t want to cry. Binh stirred on her lap. She put her hands under his armpits and lifted him up so his head rested on her breast and his legs on either side of her hips.

  “What are the Americans like who adopt Vietnam babies?” Lan leaned down to touch her cheek to the top of Binh’s head.

  “They’re good people. Every once in a while a couple thinks mostly of themselves, but even then they want what’s best for the child. Many of them can’t have kids of their own, but some of them can. They both love and hate Vietnam. They like the food, the people, the landscape, and the shopping. They hate the paperwork and the heat. I think some of them choose Vietnam to make them feel better about the war. Many pick Vietnam because the children adapt so well, others because at the time they decided to adopt it was an easy country to adopt from. It’s getting harder and harder now, though.”

  She told Lan about a moratorium that was planned to put an end to Vietnamese adoptions until a countrywide system could be established. She was certain Older Brother was involved in the politics behind the moratorium. “Its actually a good thing,” she said. “Just too bad for the kids waiting in the orphanages while the government officials hash things out.”

  The taxi driver headed down the dirt road to the shack. “If you change your mind about Binh, you should do it soon.” Older Sister shifted Mai off her shoulder. The baby slept. “Otherwise, you’d have to wait for several months, maybe even years, and there would be no guarantee that he would go to the same family as Mai.”

  Older Brother opened the taxi door for Lan. “I only have a short time,” he said. “I need to get back to the Justice Department for a meeting.”

  They all gathered in the yard. Mother squatted and gazed with longing into the face of Older Brother and then Older Sister. Lan waited for Mother to look at her, but she didn’t. She glanced at Hang, then at Binh sleeping on a mat in front of the door, then at Mai in Cam My’s arms.

  “My family,” Mother said, clasping her hands. “All together for this afternoon.”

  “Let’s get a picture,” Cam My said. She handed the baby to Lan and then pulled a camera out of her bag. “Everyone go sit by Binh.”

  “Lan, hand Mai back to Cam My. You take the photo,” Mother said.

  “We’ll take turns,” Cam My said. “Or better yet, Hang, go ask one of your neighbors.”

  “Go get Truc,” Lan said. She was probably home since it was the hottest part of the day.

  Lan woke Binh and pulled him into her arms. Cam My held the baby. Older Brother stood in the middle with Mother beside him. Hang came back into the yard with Truc and stood beside her mother. Lan’s stomach began to churn as Truc clicked the camera.

  After speaking with Mother for a few minutes, Older Brother announced that his car would arrive any minute and that he should say his good-byes.

  “And we should head back to the orphanage,” Cam My said, handing Mai to
Mother. “But first I have to use the latrine.”

  The pit toilet with the tarp strung around it embarrassed Lan. She handed Binh to Hang, ran water from the spigot in the yard into the bottle, then poured in the formula and shook the bottle. Lan gave Binh his medicine and said she would be back after dark. The sun was already setting. “Hang, watch your brother. You be responsible for him.”

  Older Sister told her brother good-bye. “I won’t see you anytime soon, but I do hope I’ll see you again.” She laughed as she patted his shoulder. Lan marveled at Cam My’s boldness. Would Older Brother be offended?

  He frowned. “Official business and family ties make for complicated interactions.” He caught Cam My’s gaze. “Yes?” he asked in English.

  “Yes,” she said and then spoke in Vietnamese again. “I am happy to have seen you, although I follow what you are saying. I wish it had been only because we’re family.” She tucked her short hair behind her ear.

  Mai began to fuss, and Lan took the baby from Mother.

  “Take care of Mother and Lan, please. And her children. Binh needs more medical care. Hang needs a future.” Older Sister bowed her head to Brother.

  “I’ll do what I can,” he said. He called out to Lan, “I’ll be in touch.”

  The two sisters walked slowly toward the dirt road. Cam My lit a cigarette. Lan carried the woven bag with the bottle slung over her shoulder and jostled the baby.

  “The Americans who are coming for Mai arrive this evening. That’s what the orphanage worker told me.” Cam My inhaled the cigarette.

  “They’re taking her this evening?” Lan wanted to curl up with her baby and hold her through one more night.

  Older Sister pulled the cigarette away from her face, flicking the ashes toward the ditch. “No, they won’t let them take her this soon. They’ll have to visit a few times, go by the Justice Department. Do all of that. If they get to Vung Tau early enough, the orphanage director thought they might stop by to see her.”

  Lan held Mai close. The baby began to cry.

  “I hope we arrive while the Americans are there,” Cam My said. “Maggie Benson is with them. She’s the American I used to work with in the North.” They reached the main street, and Cam My signaled a taxi. “We were friends. At least I thought we were, but now she won’t answer my e-mails.”

  Lan held Mai as the driver sped through the streets of Vung Tau toward the orphanage, stroking her cheek against her daughters fine hair. Grow up to be a good person. Study hard. Don’t forget me.

  Chapter 33

  Mai is not here,” the director said to Maggie in halting English. “Her family took her for the day.” The director switched to Vietnamese, and Bao translated. He explained that the aunt had come with a note from an inspector at the Justice Department. The grandmother wanted to see Mai one more time. The inspector approved the request; there was nothing the director could do.

  “The director says that the aunt asked about you specifically,” Bao translated to Maggie. “She wondered what time you were expected. She said she would bring the baby back then.”

  “What did the woman look like?”

  After more Vietnamese words back and forth, Bao said to Maggie, “She’s Vietnamese-American. Short hair, nice clothes, midforties.”

  Maggie hesitated for a moment. “What time did the director say she expected us?”

  The translator and the director spoke back and forth again. The translator’s voice rose and then fell in Vietnamese. Then he spoke to Maggie in English. “She told the aunt you would be here around 5:00 p.m.”

  Maggie shook her head. “I told her 4:00 p.m.”

  Bao shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what I told her. She said, ‘No. You said 5:00 p.m.’ ”

  Maggie bowed toward the director. Jeff and Gen walked to the veranda railing. In the yard below, children played. Three boys kicked a rock between them. A little girl chased a blue butterfly.

  Jeff put his arm on the small of Gen’s back. His curls had tightened in the humidity, and his eyes shone bright. She leaned against him.

  A group of children drew in the dirt with sticks.

  “Sorry,” Maggie said, moving toward the railing. “I would have called ahead if I’d had any idea what was going on.”

  “What can we do?” Jeff asked.

  “I’ll call this evening. We’ll come back tomorrow.”

  “Can’t we wait?” Gen grasped the metal railing.

  Maggie shook her head. “We would make the director nervous. We don’t want to do that.”

  “Can we give them the supplies for the orphanage now?” Gen swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. “Those boys would be so happy to see the soccer balls.”

  “Let’s wait,” Maggie said. “I think the director is annoyed with these interruptions.”

  “What did the director say about Mai’s aunt?” Gen let go of the railing and wiped her sweaty hand on her skirt.

  “Mai’s aunt may have worked as an adoption facilitator in the North. If so, I’m acquainted with her.”

  “How bizarre,” Gen said.

  “My sentiments exactly.” Maggie put her arm around Gen’s shoulders, pressing Gen’s cotton blouse against her sweaty skin. “Don’t worry. These things work out. You’ll see.”

  Jeff nodded. They walked down the stairs. One of the girls in the yard dropped her stick and hurried toward them, her short hair bobbing as she ran.

  “Chao em,” Gen said.

  “Hello,” the girl said in perfect English.

  Gen smiled in surprise. “What is your name?”

  “Hue.”

  “How old are you?”

  Hue quickly held up one hand, flashing her fingers twice. Ten? She couldn’t be ten.

  “Five?” Gen asked. The girl was as short as the smallest kids at school, and skinny. Her arms were hardly bigger than the stick she had been playing with.

  “No!” Hue held up both hands. “I’m ten.” She reached for Gen’s hand. “You come for a baby?”

  Gen nodded.

  “You take me, too?” Hue grinned at Gen with hopeful eyes.

  “Hue isn’t adoptable,” Maggie said. “Both of her parents are alive. They can’t afford to raise her, so she stays here.”

  “So you take me?” Hue was oblivious to Maggie’s words.

  “I can’t,” Gen said slowly. “You have parents, both a mother and father,” Gen said. I wish I could take you, too. She scanned the dirt yard. I wish I could take all of you. She swallowed around the lump in her throat and thought of her mother. So this was how she felt. This was why she wanted to save the children of Vietnam.

  Maggie directed Jeff and Gen back to the van.

  The vehicle lurched as it bumped back out of the yard, past a faded rainbow of thin garments that hung on a clothesline. Gen’s head began to ache. She closed her eyes, willing the headache to go away

  “It’ll be okay,” Maggie said. “These things work out. You’ll see.”

  Hadn’t Maggie just said that while they were on the veranda? Was Maggie nervous? Did she think it might not work out?

  “Good-bye, little one,” Lan whispered into her daughter’s ear as she patted her back. They turned onto the red clay road and passed shrimp ponds, a group of shacks, rice fields, and peasants hurrying home for something to eat before bed, before sleep, before it was time to start all over again. A van, headed the opposite way, passed them.

  “I bet that’s Maggie,” Cam My said. “Stop the taxi!” Cam My opened her door and stepped out into the middle of the road waving her arms. When the van didn’t pull over, she ran after it, stirring up the dust around her sandals and skirt. She returned short of breath. “They didn’t see me,” she said in quick gasps as she climbed back into the car.

  The van lurched again. Gen glanced over her shoulder at the orphanage. A red taxi had stopped in the middle of the dirt road. One door stood open. “Who’s in that car?”

  Maggie turned and squinted. “Probably someone
who sees us as an easy target. Wants to get some money out of us.”

  “What if it’s Mai’s birth mother?” Gen strained to see through the dust-covered back window.

  “It’s not. She wouldn’t be able to afford a taxi.”

  “How would she get Mai back to the orphanage?”

  “By scooter, maybe a bike or a cyclo.” Maggie glanced at Bao and then straight ahead.

  The taxi faded from sight, and the van turned the corner back onto the main road. As Gen dug in her backpack for a water bottle, her hand brushed against the figurine of the little girl.

  An hour later Gen sat in a tub of cold water. The hotel wasn’t as luxurious as the one in Saigon, but it was more than adequate. It was clean and roomy with a small balcony over an empty parking lot. The air conditioning worked but not the hot water. The inside of her head felt like a stormy ocean that surged against the backs of her eyes, and nausea crept up her throat.

  “Are you almost ready?” Jeff opened the door a crack. Maggie wanted to take them to a barbecue place for dinner.

  “I don’t think I’m going to make it. I think I’m going to be sick.” Gen couldn’t stop the headache. It was the stress, the jet lag, the heat, and the chaos of traveling from Ho Chi Minh City. Be honest. It was Mai. What if Mai’s birth mom didn’t return her to the orphanage? What if she did change her mind? What if there was a problem with the aunt?

  God, Gen prayed, would you bring us this far and not allow us to adopt Mai?

  “Is it turning into a migraine?” Jeff stood in the middle of the white-tile bathroom.

  “I think so.” She’d had a few migraines over the years, not frequent, but often enough to make her fear one now. She rose.

  He held out a towel. “You’re cold.” He wrapped it around her.

  “There wasn’t any hot water.”

  Jeff reached above the toilet and flipped a switch. “This is the water heater,” he said. “I’ll tell Maggie we’re going to stay here.”

  “What will you do for dinner?”

  “I’ll go down to the hotel restaurant. I’ll get you some soup.”