Let Their Spirits Dance

  We ask a cab driver who looks like he’s from some foreign country to recommend a nightclub. He’s wearing a turban wrapped around his head. We barely make out his English and finally end up having to trust him to drive us to a decent place. We pack two taxis to the Club Noche Libre. We’re together in the nation’s capital, Chris, Gates, Priscilla, Manuel, Paul, Donna, and I, spruced up, dressed to the hilt, out to celebrate the end of the journey of our lives.

  Everybody in Club Noche Libre looks foreign. There’s a hundred dialects of English going on at the same time. Most of the people seem to be from Central America. The place is jammed, smoky, small and lighted by dim violet lights. The music is hot salsa. I can’t believe how small it is! Nobody seems to mind, they just stack up closer together. I imagine people’s drinks get mixed up with others. From the looks of things, I don’t think people care much what they’re drinking. We’re ushered in after paying ten dollars a head, and sit in dark corners, close to the door. Manuel and Priscilla are holding hands. They look so proper, almost conservative. I’m convinced Priscilla and I have changed roles. I’m the daring splash, and she’s Miss Prim and Proper. How did this happen? I’m wearing a red silk dress I picked up at Dillard’s, the ritzy fashion store in Phoenix. It clings to me, outlining my body.

  • I DON’T SEE HIM at first, Gates does. They’re giving each other back slaps and El Cielito high fives before I know who it is. I almost tip the table on Chris’s lap when I jump up to run to him. It’s Ricky Navarro! Not even the excitement of getting to D.C. matches the way I feel when I see my boyhood prince, the kid next door, who should have been born rich, glowing like an amethyst in the violet lights of Club Noche Libre.

  “Teresa, you’re real, you’re real!” He’s saying this, holding me in his arms, spinning me until the violet lights look like a halo over the place.

  “Is this real?” I keep asking him, over and over, “Is this real?” I almost sit down on the floor so we can exchange teacups and secrets. If I could frame this scene, we would be in an empty nightclub. All I can see is Ricky. Everybody else is only looking at us through windows.

  “Put her down,” Chris says. “What do you want to do, make her dizzy?” Ricky puts me down and reaches over to shake Chris’s hand, still holding me by the waist. He looks at me again. I stare back at him, at his elegant face and green eyes. He’s let his beard grow, perfectly trimmed around his face. He’s wearing a black coat, black tie, and everything else white.

  “I’ve been sending messages to your web site, but I didn’t want you to know it was me. I wanted to surprise you! I called the hotel, and your son, Cisco, told me you were on your way to the club.”

  “What are you doing in D.C.?”

  “I work for the Veterans Administration. After I got my head straight, I decided to do something for all the vets who never got it together. I worked in California for years as a counselor for Vietnam vets, then they transferred me here.”

  “With your family?”

  “My ex-wife’s back in San Jose with our daughter.”

  “What ever happened to that hippie girl, Faith?”

  “Who knows. We lost track of each other years ago.”

  “And your husband, Ray?” he asks me.

  “We just got divorced.” He smiles big.

  Then he whispers, “Old Ray couldn’t keep you after all. He didn’t deserve you, Teresa, nobody does but me.”

  Manuel, Priscilla, Paul, and Donna are shaking Ricky’s hand, talking to him, hugging him. Ricky never moves from my side, not that night, and not ever again.

  • I SHOULD REMEMBER magic is short-lived. It doesn’t replace reality for very long. The prince finds the princess locked up in a tower and then has to fight the fire-spitting dragon to win her. Am I forgetting my fairy tales, dancing with Ricky? I want to control myself but can’t. Every time I get close to Ricky, I want to hug him with both arms and elephant-walk on his shoes. I want our bodies to meet, splendid, warm curves fitting into each other. There’s a scent that flows from both of us, as if we’ve just created a new perfume.

  Even as I’m dancing, it’s easy to spot Sarah, Yellowhair’s mother, when she comes into Club Noche Libre. She’s ancient, and everybody else is modern. She’s wearing her Zuñi clothes and has her hair back in a bun. Sarah is walking toward me with a man who looks like the owner of the club.

  “Excuse me,” he says. “This lady is looking for you.” Sarah’s eyes are big. She’s looking intently at me.

  “What is it, Sarah?”

  “Your mother, Teresa. Willy took her to the hospital. She’s very ill.” She says the words so quietly, I don’t react at first. Then my knees bend like Mom’s did at the airport when she said good-bye to Jesse. Ricky scoops me up by the elbows.

  “It’s OK, Teresa, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

  “Which hospital?”

  “George Washington University, the paramedics took her there,” Sarah says.

  Manuel and Priscilla are already running out the door with Donna, Gates, and Sarah. They jump into a taxi before Chris and I get into Ricky’s car.

  We get to George Washington University and find out Mom’s in the critical care unit. The words wreak havoc inside my brain. Critical care. I’m glad Chris and Ricky are with me. I need them both to make it into the elevator and up to the fourth floor. When I get off, I see Irene huddled in the corner of one of the couches, a grounded sparrow, her wings broken. The kids are with her, sitting around on other couches and chairs. The twins sit on either side of Irene, and the boys are together, their faces gloomy. Angelo is leaning on Cisco, half asleep. Willy and Susie are standing together. Willy walks up to me.

  “I’m sorry, Teresa. I took her as soon as I could. She was having trouble breathing, and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  I give him a hug. “Thank you, Willy. You were there for her.”

  I look over at Irene. She’s crying. “Tu Mama, Teresa. She will have to fight to keep la manda now.”

  “Never mind about la manda. God’s not gonna send her to hell for not keeping it.” Thinking about God makes me angry. Is all this a joke? Are El Santo Niño and La Virgen accomplices? Miraculous figures who sent Mom on her way to the Wall only to trip her up just before the fateful day?

  “Where is God now?” I ask Irene.

  “Everywhere,” she says.

  “You’re impossible,” I tell her. I walk down the hall and see Sarah leaning up against the wall next to Mom’s room. Priscilla, Paul, Manuel, and Donna are inside Mom’s room, standing around her bed. Mom is hooked up to a heart monitor and an oxygen tank. She looks ashen, her hair disheveled around her.

  Prsicilla walks up to me and whispers angrily in my ear, “I told you, didn’t I? I told you Mom wouldn’t make it. Damn you, Teresa! You never listen to me.” Priscilla’s words go through me like the thrust of a knife—sharp, cutting.

  The nurse comes in and tells us there’s too many people in the room. “What happened?” I ask her. She draws me out into the hall.

  “Your mother’s had a heart attack,” she says, “and we think there may be a blood clot going through her left artery.”

  “That side’s given her trouble for years,” I tell her. “I can give you her doctor’s name in Phoenix.”

  “We got that from your daughters and have already spoken to him. The doctor can’t operate at this point. She’d never make it out of surgery. We’re doing the best we can for her.” Then she looks at me and holds my hand. “I’m sorry. She’ll get the best care here. If there’s anybody else you have to call…would you like a priest or chaplain to come see her?”

  The tips of my fingers are icicles. “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  “Ah…a priest. We’re Catholic—she’s very traditional—from the old society of Las Guadalupanas, that’s what they call themselves.”

  “I see. We do have a priest, but he’s gone for the evening. I can call him to come back tonight.”

  “Yes, do
that.” I’m shivering. My lips are trembling. The nurse tells everybody we have to take turns in Mom’s room. Donna says she’ll stay with me in the room. Priscilla doesn’t look at me as she walks out.

  I take Mom’s hand in mine. She opens her eyes and looks at me like she’s searching for me in a crowd. She struggles to focus.

  “It’s me, Mom. Don’t try to say anything. Everything will be OK. The doctors here are very good, remember we’re in la capital, where they have the very best.”

  She whispers, “God is the very best. Whatever He wants, He’ll do.” I want to tell her to stop talking about Him but decide not to.

  “Stop crying,” I tell Donna. “Mom doesn’t need to hear all that.” Donna blows her nose on a Kleenex.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” she says.

  “Well it is,” I tell her, trying to sound strong.

  Paul is standing at the door of Mom’s room. He motions me to come out.

  “We just got a call from the Vietnamese man from Little Saigon. He’s here in D.C. He’s on his way to the hospital.”

  “He’s coming here? Who is he?”

  “He doesn’t say. Just that he’ll be right over.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Nothing, just wait. We’ll listen to whatever he has to say.”

  I return to Mom’s room and sit with her in silence. She has gone to sleep. I hold her hand, and it lies limp and still in mine. I smile as I see her fingernails, polished red by the twins. I’m wondering what the visit from the Vietnamese man means for all of us. Did he know Thom? How will all this affect Mom?

  I look at Donna and whisper, “The man from Little Saigon is on his way to the hospital.”

  Donna’s blue eyes get big. “Who is he?” I shrug my shoulders. Mom’s eyelids flutter, and Donna starts to cry all over again. I put my finger up to my lips to make her stop, but it’s no use. I shake my head, and watch Donna cry softly into her Kleenex. Not more than an hour goes by before Paul walks into Mom’s room.

  “They’re here,” he whispers to me.

  “They?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Chris meets me as soon as I walk out of Mom’s room. “She’s here!” he says. “She’s really here!”

  “What are you talking about? Who’s here?”

  “Thom!” The name causes a chain reaction to go through my body. It’s as if I’ve said her name every day of my life. It takes a few seconds for me to speak again.

  “You mean Thom, Jesse’s girlfriend from Vietnam?”

  “His wife! She just told me they got married over there! And their son!”

  “Their son?”

  “They had a son together.”

  “Oh, my God!” Chris leads me out to the lobby area, and standing before me is a Vietnamese family. The woman is beautiful, petite, with short black hair brushed in waves around her face. She’s wearing a pair of loose-fitting dark pants and a flowered blouse. Next to her is a man that looks so much like Jesse, my knees bend all the way this time. I stumble forward, and Chris blocks my fall.

  “Take it easy, Teresa. It’s them, it really is!” Chris leads me by the hand, as if I’m sleepwalking.

  “Thom, this is Teresa, Jesse’s sister.” I see crinkles in Thom’s neck and a gold necklace with a small jade elephant hanging at her throat. Her face is silky smooth, her voice calm, refined.

  “I’m so glad to meet you,” she says. Her eyes fill with tears. She nods her head slightly. I reach over and hug her, a soft hug that makes me know I’m not dreaming. We look at each other and see Jesse between us. He’s in the pupils of our eyes, two women who loved him. With one look, we know more about each other than if we had lived as neighbors all our lives.

  “Yes…I’m so glad to meet you, too,” I tell her. “You have no idea how happy I am to meet you!”

  “Jesse’s son,” she says, drawing her arm through her son’s. “This is Lam.”

  “Lam.” I say his name, and it sounds so strange on my lips. “Lam…” I look at him and see the smile I recognized from my cradle. The dark features, the eyebrows straight, not curving, the perfect teeth. He’s several inches taller than me.

  “Jesse was my father. This is my son,” he says, holding the hand of a child about four years old. “This is Joshua Ramirez! Say hi to your aunt, Joshua.”

  “Joshua Ramirez! Oh, my God, you’ve carried on the family name! Jesse must be clapping his hands in heaven!” I look deeply into Lam’s and Joshua’s eyes, and for the first time Don Florencío’s prophecy makes sense…a new form—your brother will come back in a new form. Our ancestors have always walked the earth.

  Joshua looks solemnly at me, “Hi,” he says, and I go down on one knee and kiss both cheeks. Already, Lisa and Lilly are standing around him.

  “Mom, how cute! He’s adorable!”

  “We flew in from Little Saigon in Orange County, California,” Lam says.

  “Yes, my nephew, Michael, told me you were sending us messages from there.”

  “My wife is visiting in the real Saigon, in Vietnam, but now it’s called Ho Chi Minh City. Look, there he is,” Lam says, pointing to Michael. “That’s the boy I’ve been talking to on the Internet!”

  Michael walks over and Lam shakes his hand over and over again. “Good job! You helped me find my father’s family! Good job! Very smart boy!” Michael is smiling big, puffing up his chest. “I work for a computer company, we can talk…very smart boy!”

  “See, I told you, Tía, Nana’s web page is a winner!”

  “Yes, it is a winner! You were right, Michael. But Lam,” I ask, “how is it that you never knew where Jesse lived?”

  “Well, that’s a sad story in my family,” he says. “You see, when my mother left Vietnam her father forbade her to look for him. My grandfather was an officer for the South Vietnamese Army and was already in big trouble with the communists. To make matters worse my mother was pregnant with me, the baby of an American soldier. Her whole village was burned to the ground, everything destroyed. She wasn’t able to save even one letter with my father’s address on it. Her family barely escaped Vietnam with their lives. They had to climb on river boats to make their escape.”

  “But what about the marriage? I thought they were married.”

  “My father never accepted my marriage,” Thom says. She shakes her head sadly, “Never. Over the years, I accepted my fate, and yet, I prayed for the day I would find Jesse’s family. And now look, here we are all together—a miracle!”

  Everyone standing around us looks like still-life pictures to me. No one is moving a muscle, as I turn around and announce, “This is Jesse’s family from Little Saigon in Orange County, California!”

  Everyone comes up to shake hands. Thom and Lam walk up to Irene, and hold her hands.

  “Si!” Irene says. “I can see that this is Jesse’s son! And Jesse’s wife is so beautiful!”

  Thom and Lam turn to Paul, looking at him closely.

  “He looks like your father!” Thom says to her son.

  “Jesse was better-looking,” Paul says with a wink.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell Thom.

  I walk into Mom’s room with Ricky and Priscilla. Priscilla stands on one side of the bed, Ricky and I stand on the other. I take one of Mom’s hands in mine.

  “Mom, there’s something I have to tell you, something very important.” She opens her eyes and sighs, then looks at Ricky standing next to me and recognizes him. Tears start.

  “It’s me…Doña…It’s Ricky.”

  “I know it’s you, Ricky,” Mom says. “Your mother,” Mom whispers, “how’s Juanita, mijo?”

  “She’s fine, Doña. She’s in San Jose.” Mom smiles and closes her eyes.

  “My old neighbor—your mother, such a hard worker. I never knew I would see you here, mijo. You and Teresa used to play together. I thought someday you would marry her, but then you went away.”

  “I’m here now, Doña.”

  “Mom—
there’s someone else you have to meet tonight!” I tell her. “She came a long way to see you. It’s someone who knew Jesse in Vietnam. Mom, are you listening?” She nods her head. “Mom, she came with someone else, too.” Mom senses the electricity in my voice and opens her eyes.

  “Who? What are you talking about?” She looks closely at me. “Why are you all dressed up, mija? Am I dead yet? Is this my funeral?”

  “No, Mom, you’re not dead! Listen to me…keep your eyes open. You’ll see something…but don’t get scared, OK? Remember you said Jesse was calling you here? I believe you now!”

  I walk to the hall and motion for Paul to bring in Thom, Lam, and Joshua. The nurse sees what’s happening and doesn’t say a word to us. I hold Thom’s hand and lead her to Mom’s side.

  “Mom—open your eyes. Here she is.” Mom opens her eyes and sees Thom. She stares at her, surprised. Her eyes take in Thom’s face.

  “Mom—this is Jesse’s wife—he married her in Vietnam!”

  “Jesse’s wife?”

  “Yes, isn’t she beautiful?” Mom nods. Tears are streaming down her face. Thom puts her arms around Mom’s shoulders and kisses her forehead.

  “Mother-in-law,” she says. “I loved your son. He was a very good man. He treated me with love. He was a good husband for me.” She brings Lam to her side. “Look!” she says. Mom stares at Lam and sits up in bed, propping herself up on one elbow.

  “Jesse!” she cries. “You made me a grandmother!” She leans back on the pillows and reaches for Lam. Lam tenderly hugs Mom, then lets her kiss each finger of his hands as she kissed Jesse’s when he left for Vietnam. She traces a cross over Lam’s forehead.

  “Ay está mi Dios, there is my God, a witness to this miracle. I came without knowing what I would be given today! This is what Jesse was telling me that night—that he had a wife, a son, a grandson!”

  Lam brings Joshua over. My mother is laughing and crying at the same time, holding onto Joshua. “Mira no mas, I’m a great-grandmother too! Así es, mijo! Well done, Jesse!”