The Reeducation of Cherry Truong

by Aimee Phan

  He didn’t answer, struggling to swallow the last shreds of pork stuck in his throat.

  Her mother sat back after a minute of silence, looking disgusted. “Then what good is your God?”

  * * *

  Walking to the school parking lot, Cherry spotted Lum’s car in the fire lane. His blinkers were not turned on. She looked behind to see if anyone from her project group was around. Not that they knew anything about her brother.

  “Sorry,” Lum said, a sheepish smile on his face when Cherry opened the passenger door, a gush of air-conditioning greeting her. “At least I remembered to pick you up.”

  “Thanks,” she said, falling into the bucket seat, slamming the door hard.

  “I called home when I realized,” he said.

  “What were you doing, anyway?” she asked. “I didn’t think you had to work today.”

  “I was with Dat.”

  “Dat?”

  “He knows a good poker club in Tustin.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Cherry asked, pulling out her sunglasses from the front pocket of her backpack.

  “It’s not what you think,” he said. “College students play poker, too. This is a good one. Lots of rich boy investors. That’s why the returns are so big.”

  “Since when does he want to help you out?”

  “I think he’s serious,” Lum said, pulling off his hat and laying it on the dashboard. His hair was growing long, hanging over his eyes.

  Dat had heard that Lum was out of money and wanted to offer him a deal. Dat would bankroll Lum in this new poker club in exchange for playing under his supervision. When Lum asked why he wanted to help, Dat said he didn’t want Lum’s gambling to ruin their family’s name. If Lum listened to his advice, he could use the cash advance to earn his way out of debt.

  “What happens next?” Cherry asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you go through his money and can’t pay him back?”

  “I didn’t tell you this so you could shit on me,” Lum said, his upper lip curling. “I know this is my last chance.”

  “Or you could stop right now, and work it off,” she reminded him. “Mom and Dad said they’d help.”

  “I don’t want their money.”

  “You’ll pay them back, like any other responsible person would. You don’t need to break the law.”

  “You sound like Dad,” Lum said. “Do you know how long that would take? You want me to work like a slave like Mom and Dad have all these years. And for what?”

  Cherry glared at her brother. “You mean the house that they love?”

  “The bank owns the house,” Lum said. “In one hand, I could make enough to earn out my loans and clear three months of their mortgage payments.”

  “When was the last time you won?” she asked.

  His arrogant, self-assured smile faded. His eyes resumed the frostiness she’d grown to despise over the last two years.

  “There used to be a time when I didn’t have to convince you to believe in me,” Lum said.

  She exhaled sharply, straightening her shoulders. “Maybe I’m growing up.”

  “No,” Lum said. “That’s not it.”

  They looked out of their respective windows, silent, the rest of the ride home.

  * * *

  Dat’s offer was not news to Cherry. A week earlier, her cousin and Grandmother Vo had dropped by the house in the middle of the day. Only Cherry was home. At first, the visit appeared impulsive, since Grandmother’s physician had relocated to a clinic in Irvine, and she often liked to stop by the house unexpectedly. The three of them sat in the living room, Grandmother in Sanh’s suede chair, Cherry and her cousin on opposite ends of the sofa, sipping on the jasmine tea Cherry had taken as long as possible to prepare.

  “Do you want me to call my mother?” Cherry asked. “She’s not supposed to be home until five.”

  “We came to visit you, child,” her grandmother said.

  They looked at her expectantly. “For what?” she asked.

  “Your brother,” she said, sighing loudly, wrapping her spearmint-colored scarf around her wrist, once, twice. “What else would I be talking about?”

  Since Cherry and Lum’s parents had proven incapable, Grandmother felt obliged to clean up the family’s reputation.

  Cherry sat silently as they outlined their plan. Dat found a poker club, a circuit populated by wealthy undergrads from the local UCs and small colleges like Chapman. The club held their games after hours at a popular tea shop in Westminster. The club typically lured college kids in, allowed them to win for a while, then slowly but surely, leeched their winnings, and eventually their bank account balances, away.

  A fixed game wasn’t a shocking system. Cherry was sure Lum had seen it done before, maybe even participated in a scam or two himself. But Grandmother and Dat were counting on Lum’s ego to do him in. When he was gambling, he believed he was smarter than any system, any person. He thought he could beat the house, a gambling addict’s fatal flaw.

  Dat met one of the club’s members, Thinh, through a classmate. Dat would pay Thinh on the side to make sure Lum didn’t win. Lum would run up a large enough debt that Dat would then claim to be unable to cover. When Lum couldn’t pony up the money, the house would scare Lum out of ever playing in Orange County again.

  “How are they going to scare him?” Cherry asked.

  “They’re not allowed to touch him,” Grandmother Vo said, explaining that part of Thinh’s payment included protection for Lum.

  “And you just believe them?”

  “They’re getting paid for it,” Grandmother said. “These boys aren’t stupid when it comes to money.” She overturned her teacup, indicating she needed a refill.

  In the kitchen, waiting for the teakettle to boil, Cherry listened to her cousin and grandmother chat about her doctor’s appointment earlier that day.

  Some people may have been surprised that grandmothers were capable of saying such things, concocting such schemes. But Grandmother Vo, if you believed the rumors, ran a black-market operation with some American officers in Saigon (How do you think she could afford that house as a widow? Linh once reminded Cherry). There were plenty of Little Saigon business owners who either worshipped or despised her, depending on how much money they owed her. As she talked, she sipped on her tea, adjusting her scarf. Blackmail, extortion, she spoke about these actions as naturally as she complained about the weather or her heart condition.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Cherry asked, returning with the teapot.

  “I knew you’d be suspicious of Dat offering to help your brother,” Grandmother said. “You’re a smart girl, smarter than your mother. The only way to help him is to scare him straight. He needs us. He needs you.”

  Cherry shot them a doubtful look as she poured their tea. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “This plan to rescue your brother is delicate, with a lot of my money at stake. If you suspect that Lum is catching on, you must tell Dat.”

  “Not you?” Cherry asked.

  “Dat is now responsible,” Grandmother said, sitting back into the sofa cushion. “I only provide the funds. I want nothing more to do with it. I have enough to worry about with my failing health.” She wheezed into her scarf.

  “What if I say no?” Cherry asked, crossing her arms.

  Grandmother looked unimpressed. “You’re not stupid, child. I know you. We have sat by and watched Lum humiliate our family for far too long. But this is no longer about family honor. When gamblers become desperate, they will turn to anyone for cash. That is dangerous.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Are you kidding?” Dat cried. “He probably already has.”

  “Dat,” Grandmother warned. “We are all on the same side here.”

  Her cousin shook his head at Cherry. “I don’t understand you,” Dat said. “Don’t you want him to be better?”

  “Of course she does,” Grandmother said. “She loves her br
other. She knows this is best for him.”

  Cherry bristled. This was not her brother. The night before, after realizing her ATM card was missing, and after searching the house for it, she had confronted him. He hadn’t even looked apologetic. The Lum she knew would have recognized the hurt in her face and would have wanted to fix it, because he once loved her, and once cared about what she thought. He was no longer that person. Cherry was tired of defending him, tired of being disappointed in him, tired of being angry, tired of being tired. Grandmother and Dat were merely speeding things along to their logical, inevitable conclusion. In losing everything, Lum could finally be her brother again.

  “Okay,” Cherry said.

  * * *

  Once Dat introduced Lum to the new poker club, they became inseparable. These two boys who wanted nothing to do with each other as children now called each other on the phone every night. Cherry would come home from school and find Dat, Lum, and Quynh watching a movie or eating takeout in the family room.

  This new friendship became the family’s preferred topic of conversation. Dat’s parents loudly worried about the possible corruption of their precious firstborn, while Cherry’s mother hoped some of Dat’s strong work ethic could rub off on Lum.

  Inexplicably, the plan seemed to be working. From what Dat told her in discreet phone calls, they were settling in at the new poker club—a few wins to keep Lum interested, enough losses to rack up a reliable debt. With new funding, Lum’s confidence had returned: he whistled throughout the house, cheerily chatting on the phone to Quynh or Dat, saying nothing to Cherry; he was still sore over his sister’s lack of faith in him. She longed to fast forward to the next stage of the scheme, when the lucky hands, Grandmother’s money, and her brother’s smug smirks would dry up for good.

  “And you never listen in on their conversations?” Linh asked as she drove them to Duyen’s house one Saturday afternoon. Linh and Duyen had finished their morning shift at the salon and were dropping by Duyen’s place to pick up sweatshirts and snacks before going to the beach.

  “No,” Cherry said.

  “Aren’t you curious?” Linh said. “What could Lum and Dat possibly say to each other every night?”

  “Mommy changed the PIN on Dat’s bank account,” Duyen said, then shrugged when Cherry turned to look at her in the backseat. “She doesn’t want what happened to you to happen to him.”

  “You still think he’s trying to swindle Dat,” Linh said.

  “What else could he want?” Duyen said, slurping on her milkshake.

  “Duyen,” Cherry groaned.

  “Sorry,” Duyen said. “But you know it’s true.”

  “Huy told me he saw them outside the science library the other day,” Linh said. “Maybe Dat is turning your brother around.”

  “Did he say hello?” Cherry asked. Months had passed, but it still unsettled her not to see Lum’s oldest friend around. He was one of the saddest casualties of Lum’s stupid addiction.

  “He still says he’s not talking to Lum until Lum pays him back,” Linh said. She shrugged at Cherry’s frown. “It’s a lot of money. People don’t forget stuff like that.”

  When they turned on Duyen’s street, they found a silver Lexus sitting in front of the house, the engine still running. As they pulled up, the tinted driver’s side window rolled down and a Vietnamese man with spiky hair and mirrored sunglasses poked his head out. He looked at them for a moment, ducked back in, and the window promptly rolled up.

  “Weird,” Linh said, then glanced over at Duyen. “An old boyfriend?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, after looking the car over.

  “I’ll find out,” Cherry said, hopping out of Linh’s car. Her heart pounding, she approached the silver Lexus and tapped the window. Hip-hop music vibrated through her fingers. “Hello?” she asked, praying it wasn’t one of the poker-club members. “Can I help you?”

  It took a minute for the driver to turn down his music and lower his window. The upholstery reeked of cigarette smoke. He grinned at her. Cherry realized he wasn’t a man, but a boy, maybe twenty, twenty-one. He grinned at her. “Is this Dat Le’s house?” he asked.

  She paused for a moment, hoping that her cousins couldn’t hear. “Who are you?”

  He mimicked her pause. “Just a friend.”

  “I’m his cousin. I know you aren’t his friend.”

  The boy laughed, almost wheezing. “Ah, you’re Lum’s little sister, the smart one.”

  “Dat’s not home,” Cherry said.

  “Well, he and Lum told me to meet them here. So I think I’ll just wait.”

  Duyen stepped out of the car, joining Cherry. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head. “Have I seen you before?”

  “Ah,” the guy said, leering at Cherry’s slender cousin. “You must be the beauty queen.”

  “Want me to call the cops?” Linh yelled.

  “Ladies,” the stranger said, ignoring her, slapping his steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “I promise you I’m no intruder. I’m just waiting on a meeting with friends, okay?” His grin returned. “And here they are.”

  The girls backed away from the car as the boy stepped out. He wasn’t that tall, actually a little scrawny, with a pointy jawline and sloped shoulders. He looked more intimidating sitting in his car. He dressed all in black, his jeans noticeably more faded than his shirt and jacket.

  “This is your new friend?” Duyen asked, after Dat, Lum, and Quynh joined them on the driveway. “I’m so impressed.”

  “This is a private meeting,” Dat said, clearing his throat. “Why don’t you girls just go inside?”

  “Do you hear yourself?” Duyen said. “Since when do you take meetings?”

  “Duyen, it’s okay,” Quynh said, but she still had her sunglasses on, and the tight smile on her face did not feel reassuring.

  “Yes, it is okay,” the boy agreed, pulling off his sunglasses. “It’s a beautiful day, and these are some lovely ladies.”

  Cherry pulled at Duyen’s arm, following Linh into the house. Lum hadn’t even looked at her.

  Once inside, they ran up to Duyen’s room where her window had a good view of the driveway. Duyen carefully slid the window open as they sat beneath it on the floor. Several minutes passed.

  “Can you hear anything?” Duyen finally whispered.

  “No,” Cherry said. She pulled two of the venetian blinds open with her fingers to look. Although she recognized that they spoke Vietnamese, Cherry couldn’t hear their words. Dat made large gestures with his arms, while Lum stood eerily still, his arms crossed.

  “You know who that is, don’t you?” Linh said, pulling a teddy bear from Duyen’s bed to use as a pillow.

  “Who?” Duyen said.

  “That’s Bac Luong’s youngest son, I remembered when Lum said his name. Grandmother loaned his dad the money to open up a restaurant, but he couldn’t pay the rent.”

  Cherry glanced at her cousin. “What happened?”

  “They had to close down, and then the family moved to New Orleans.”

  “I guess not all of them,” Duyen said. “I wonder how he can afford a Lexus.”

  “He must be in a gang.”

  “No, he’s not,” Cherry cried.

  Linh and Duyen looked at her suspiciously. “How would you know?” Duyen asked.

  “I just don’t believe it. Lum would never associate with anyone like that.”

  “You mean Lum only plays with nice gamblers?” Linh asked.

  “He isn’t a criminal.” Cherry watched as they exchanged one of their secret glances. “He isn’t.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Duyen said. “Because this doesn’t just affect Lum.”

  “Then why don’t you ask your brother?” Cherry said.

  But Cherry was worried, too, and Linh’s observations lingered with her the rest of the afternoon.

  When Lum smiled at her during dinner that evening and asked about her classes, Cherry asked him about his n
ew friend. Even in front of their parents, his smile didn’t waver.

  “Thinh?” he said. “He works at a hotel where we make deliveries.”

  “Vietnamese?” their mother asked, brightening. “What’s his last name?”

  “I don’t remember,” Lum said.

  “Well, he must be making a lot of money at the hotel,” Cherry said, reaching over the table for seconds of the lemongrass chicken. “That’s a really expensive car he’s driving.”

  Lum’s face still didn’t crack. “Thinh is in guest services. He works the reservation desk.”

  “That’s great,” their father said. “Maybe he can help you get a job there.”

  Lum squirmed in his seat. “I’m not sure it works that way.”

  “How do you know if you don’t try?” their father asked. “If I hadn’t kept looking for better opportunities, I’d still be a custodian.”

  “A custodian isn’t a bad job,” Lum muttered.

  Their father laughed. “Unless you have a family to feed. Unless you want to have a house. You can do better than delivering flowers.”

  “I know I can do better,” Lum said, his voice thickening, his good mood dissipated.

  “By working hard,” their mother interrupted, putting a hand on Lum’s clenched fingers. “By being a good boy. No card playing, right?”

  “Right,” Lum said, glancing briefly at the perfectly filed fingernails tap tapping on his fist. “No card playing.”

  Later that night, Cherry called Dat. He answered on the first ring. Dat promised that Lum was already close to reaching his debt limit with the poker club. Thinh had dropped by to warn Lum that next week’s Tet tournament was his last chance.

  “Then they’ll throw him out,” Dat said, “Blacklist him from playing in any other club in Orange County. It’ll be over.”

  “And they’re going to make sure he loses?” Cherry asked. “They can do that?”

  “Of course,” Dat said with a scoff. “They’re practically professionals. We’ve already put up the money for the game.”

  The assurance in his voice unnerved her. “Do you know who this Thinh guy really is?”

  When Dat didn’t reply, Cherry relayed what Linh had told her. Cherry could hear Dat’s shallow breathing.