by Meris Lee
“Zoe, I thought we were doing okay. Can we talk, please? I don’t want you to go.”
“You are doing okay, and I am doing okay. But the two of us together under one roof? Not okay,” said Zoe.
“Zoe, tell me what I’m doing wrong. I’ve been trying really hard since Eduard left us. I’ve been keeping a regular job. If fact I have two jobs. I’m almost always home when I’m not working at the restaurant or running errands. I’m always here for you now. I mean, we’ve had a couple of arguments since we got here, but nothing had gone majorly wrong. Right?”
Zoe didn’t answer.
“Why can’t you stay here? Why can’t you stay with me?”
“You know, a few months of niceness does not undo a decade of poor mothering. I gave up on you a long time ago. You can try as hard as you want, but I am not about to forgive you any time soon.”
Ana let go of Zoe’s arm, and took a few steps back in disbelief of Zoe’s candidness. Her tears were welling up in her eyes, and she said with a trembling voice, “I thought we were going to start over, clean slates and all.”
“Unfortunately,” said Zoe, “my slates are too scratched up to ever be clean again.”
“But where are you staying? How do you support yourself?”
“Don’t worry about that.” Zoe began to move toward the door.
“Wait, Zoe,” said Ana, “I know I haven’t been a good mother. I am trying to be. Can’t you give me another chance?”
“I’ve given you many chances before and you screwed up all of them. Anyway, it’s true I can’t stand living with you, but right now I’m leaving because I want to be on my own. I’m old enough to want that and I’m old enough to be able to do it. I’m just doing what you used to do, making a living playing guitar in a band, and enjoying life.”
“And you like how I end up, too?”
“You said it yourself. You are doing okay. So I guess I’ll be all right, too.”
“Zoe, I love you. You are destroying me. You are my child. I need you. I want you with me,” said Ana. She couldn’t stop her tears anymore.
“You didn’t want me when you handed me over to Prababushka after Papa died. You just kicked me aside so you could go and party with strangers.”
“No, Zoe, that’s not how it was. I was sad, and heartbroken. I was not partying. I couldn’t handle your papa’s death alone. I had to be with people. I was grieving. You have no idea.”
“No, I have no idea how you grieved by going out with random men and getting yourself knocked up in the process,” said Zoe. “You don’t even know who Ivan’s papa was. Why do you lie to him and make him think my papa was his papa, too? I would’ve told him the truth if I didn’t worry about his feelings. Unlike you, I actually do care about Ivan a great deal.”
Ana felt that if her hand had its own mind it would have slapped Zoe in the face already, but she knew that Zoe was right. Ana was too ashamed to come up with anything to defend herself.
Zoe continued to say, “Anyway, Ivan’s still a kid. Maybe you still have a chance with him. Just channel all this ‘love’ you have for me to him. Where is Ivan anyway? It’s almost eight o’clock.” Zoe looked around, and then she said, “Well, I must get going. Don’t think of it as me running away. Think of it as me growing up and moving out. You’ll feel better that way.” Zoe turned around and left the apartment. Ana didn’t have the courage or the strength to stop her again.
Ana wiped her tears with her hands. She started walking toward the kitchen. She needed to make some tea to calm her nerves. She noticed that the door to Ivan’s room was ajar, and she decided to go in. She hadn’t seen Ivan since she came home. She had been out on her Monday errands all day, and then came home and gave Russian lessons to three students, including McKenzie. She remembered that Ivan told her about attending a summer camp; maybe he was still there.
Zoe was right, thought Ana. She hadn’t been paying much attention to Ivan. For one thing, she could hardly deal with her own demons, and Zoe’s problems took an additional toll. Thankfully, Ivan never was a troublemaker, and always a superior student at school. She was neglectful, but he seemed to be doing fine on his own. Even the bullying had stopped since Ivan started school in Nha Trang, or at least she hadn’t heard any report in that regard.
It was dark, so Ana instinctively turned on the light. Right next to the light switch was Ivan’s desk, and on it there was a double photo frame. In one picture, Leo was showing off his prison tattoo on his right arm, and in the other picture, Eduard had his arm around Ivan, who was holding a skateboard. When Ivan was three years old and started watching television, he learned that little children and often had “papas” in their families. He began to pester his mother to tell him who his papa was, and bedtime was frustrating for Ana because Ivan would refuse to sleep. Eventually Ana showed him that picture of Leo, and told him that was his papa. Ivan was satisfied, and he had believed it ever since. Ana told him that his papa was not around because he got very ill and died.
Ana looked at the picture of Eduard and Ivan, and she sighed. She knew that Ivan had really bonded with Eduard, and looked up to Eduard as a father. She blamed herself for breaking up the father-and-son relationship that Ivan had yearned for all his life.
Ana’s hair stood up when she heard a sound behind her. She turned around, and saw Ivan curled up in fetal position in his bed, sobbing. His body was quivering.
“Ivan,” Ana called out softly.
Ivan sat up and Ana could see that his face was wet with tears. He gave her a biting stare, and cried out harshly. He said, “Is that why you don’t love me? Because I am just a product of your one night stand, which you completely forgot about? Go away. Leave.” Ivan threw himself back down and covered his head with the pillow.
“Ivan.”
“Go, away.”
Ana didn’t protest any further. Her chance with Ivan had just been once again smeared by her own carelessness. She turned off the light and left the room.
Chapter 16
“No problem. Leave it here,” said the owner of a small musical instrument store in Nha Trang.
Zoe had come into this store to get new strings for her guitar. She was also looking for a drummer for her band. They couldn’t exactly play gothic metal without a drummer. She hadn’t had much luck so far. She set a stack of fliers down at the counter next to the cash register and said, “Thanks so much.”
“Don’t hurry to go,” said the owner. “Look around. We have good guitars, if you want something more modern.” He was looking at Zoe’s vintage Vox Mark VI, which she quickly replaced in its case.
Zoe didn’t have anything else to do at the moment, so she happily complied. She began by browsing the guitars, but she soon discovered the more intriguing traditional Vietnamese instruments. She picked up a mallet and tapped on a few bars of the bamboo xylophone, constructed like a ladder with the shortest cylinder on top. Then she came to admire the flute, and pictured in her mind a farmer playing a cheery tune after a hard day’s work in the rice paddies of the countryside. Next she stopped to ponder the possibility of creating a melody on the two-stringed “moon lute” that was shaped like a banjo. She was plucking the strings out of curiosity when she heard a distinct mournful melody coming from the far corner of the store.
She saw a man sitting in front of an instrument that had only one string, stretched horizontally over a wooden box. The string was tied to a vertical rod at one end of the instrument. The song was simple, and yet it evoked a profound emotion. It seemed to be an instrument from an ancient time, and Zoe could almost hear the convoluted epic of the Vietnamese people and their land since history began. There were moments of joy and periods of sadness, united by a pervasive peaceful spirituality that was at the heart of the nation of Vietnam. Even though she had still felt like a visitor after almost four months in Nha Trang, at that moment she felt like she was home. For the first time in many years, she was anchored.
The music suddenly stopped, and the man looke
d up at Zoe.
“It’s the guitar player,” said the man, who was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts with sandals.
It took Zoe a minute, but she recognized him to be the policeman she had run into twice before. She was a little embarrassed, and she turned around. She wanted to leave before she got into any more trouble.
The policeman stood up and said, “Hey, you don’t have to run. I’m not on duty. Besides, you’re not doing anything obviously criminal here.”
Zoe stopped and turned. “Obviously criminal?” She was a little offended.
“I’m sorry,” said the policeman. “I hope that you are not scared of me. I’m not always out just to catch law breakers.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It is true that most of the time when we policemen interact with people, it’s because some laws have been broken. But people forget that we help them when they are in need, too, and we like to know the people we serve. So, my name is Tuan Le. What’s your name?”
Zoe didn’t think that she could be served or helped by any member of the Vietnamese police force. She said, “I don’t know if I should tell you. You might start an investigation on me.”
Tuan chuckled and said, “I swear I won’t.”
“I heard the police is very corrupt here, so I don’t trust you.”
“Did you just say that I am corrupt to my face?” Tuan raised an eyebrow, as if accusing Zoe of defamation.
“Point exactly. I’m getting out of here.” Zoe turned toward the door again.
Tuan walked in front of Zoe and said, “I apologize for making you so uncomfortable. You can trust me. I am not corrupt.”
“I still don’t see the need to tell you my name.”
“I’d like us to be friends,” said Tuan. “We have met three times. This is some kind of fate.”
Zoe could feel her face turn a little warm, and she resisted smiling at Tuan. She said, “I have friends. I am not sure I want to be friends with you.”
“Okay,” said Tuan, “we don’t have to be friends. I will go back to playing the đàn bầu. I was going to show you how it worked, since you play the guitar and seem interested in our one-stringed instrument.” Tuan went back to the corner of the store.
Zoe hesitated for a few seconds, and gave in. She walked to Tuan, and introduced herself. “My name is Zoe. Zoe Romanova. I’m from Russia.”
Tuan extended his hand, and Zoe shook it.
“I figured you’re from Russia. Most white people we see nowadays are from Russia. Good thing you speak English, so we can talk to each other. I live here now, but I’m from Hanoi.”
“So you are a police officer,” said Zoe. “You look a little young.”
“I don’t like to brag,” said Tuan, “but I was on a fast track, and I finished high school and university early, university being the People’s Police Academy in Hanoi. I’m starting at the bottom though. I am what some might call a junior lieutenant, the lowest ranking police officer.”
Zoe was impressed with this fact, but she tried not to show it. Instead, she pointed to the one-stringed instrument and said, “What’s it called again?”
“It’s called đàn bầu. I learned to play this from my mother. Do you want to try?” Tuan gestured for Zoe to sit down, and she agreed.
Tuan showed her how to press the string down with the pinky side of her right hand while plucking the string with a long plectrum held between the thumb and index finger of the same hand. He showed her how to play the pentatonic scale by plucking at different points of the string. Then he showed her how to alter the pitch of each sound by using the left hand to manipulate the vertical rod, which also made the sound resonate when it was shaken back and forth rapidly.
“Wow, this is like the whammy bar on my guitar,” said Zoe. She was fascinated.
“Exactly,” said Tuan.
Zoe got up from the chair, and asked Tuan to play another tune on the đàn bầu.
Tuan sat down to play another soulful song. Zoe closed her eyes. She couldn’t explain the sensation she was feeling in her chest; it was a combination of sorrow and yearning, a sense of nostalgia for the past and a glimpse of hope for the future.
Tuan got up after the song and said, “So, you came here just to look at the instruments?”
“I came to get some strings,” said Zoe. “And I am looking for someone to play drums for my band.”
“You have a band?”
“Yes. We play at the Rocking Waves. You should come and see us sometimes.”
“So you do work at that nightclub,” said Tuan, looking straight into Zoe’s eyes.
Zoe realized her mistake, and did not say anything back.
“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you there again, now that we are friends,” said Tuan with a smile. “I do hope that you are of legal age to work, but I’m not going to investigate a friend.”
Zoe relaxed a little, but she wasn’t going to give away her age just yet.
“Well,” said Tuan, “I happen to know someone who owns a set of drums and plays well.”
“Is this friend a girl? We are an all-girl band.”
“Yes, a girl. She is a neighbor of mine. She might be interested in your band.”
“Could you please give her my contact information?” Zoe handed him a flyer. “And let her know that we play gothic metal. I hope she likes that genre. But at this point, we are desperate for someone, anyone, to hit the drums, period.”
“Gothic metal. What’s that?”
“I’m sure you can find music videos of that genre online. Or, you could just come to the club and listen to us. We would sound much better if we could get your friend to do the drums.”
“I will ask her tonight,” said Tuan. “I’m quite busy so I may not be able to see you play. I’ll warn you though; nightclubs are not safe for young girls like you.”
“My boyfriend works there, too, and he takes care of me,” said Zoe.
Tuan raised an eyebrow again. He seemed surprised at first, and then he had a look of sudden realization on his face.
“Your boyfriend looked dangerous,” said Tuan, shaking his head.
“No, he isn’t. He is the sweetest,” said Zoe. “I stay with him now.”
“You stay with him? What does that mean? You’re living with your boyfriend?” Tuan seemed to be taken aback.
“You have a problem with that?”
Tuan was a little red in the face. “I guess you two are getting married soon.”
Zoe broke out in laughter. “Who said anything about getting married? I’m not even sure I love him.”
“Then why do you live with him?” Tuan furrowed his brow.
“You wouldn’t understand,” said Zoe. She couldn’t admit that she didn’t know why she was living with Yurik, either. She liked Yurik a lot, but she was probably doing it more for survival than for any romantic sentiment.
“I bet you yourself don’t even know why,” said Tuan sharply. Zoe was stunned to hear it.
Tuan continued to say, “The time is changing I guess. Some Vietnamese girls are living with their boyfriends, too, especially in the cities. They hide it from their parents, though, usually. How about you? Do your parents know?”
“Yes, my mother knows, and she’s fine with it.” Zoe told a small lie.
“I assume your mother is here in Nha Trang?”
“She is, and since you are my friend, I hope that you leave her alone.”
“Why, does she get in trouble with the law often?”
Zoe was flabbergasted. “You have a way with words.”
“You are offended. I am sorry. I don’t sugarcoat what I want to say.” Tuan shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, just be careful in that club. There are things going on there that you don’t know anything about.”
“You are patronizing me. I know everything. I work there nearly every night.”
“Just keep a sharp eye on the people there. At least, let me know if you see anything that tr
oubles you. I trust that you are a morally good person. Anyway, need a ride? I got an extra helmet.”
“Are you riding your police motorcycle?” Zoe was somewhat excited as she imagined herself riding on one.
“No. I told you I’m off duty. You’re coming or not?” Tuan walked toward the exit. He waved at the shop owner to say goodbye.
“Wait, I’m coming,” said Zoe. She grabbed her guitar and hurriedly followed Tuan out of the store.
Chapter 17
It was a breezy summer afternoon, and Ana decided to take a stroll on the beach. Sunset was about an hour away, and the water had gone from a bright emerald to a deep sapphire. The waves were picking up as the tide began to rise. Ana could see a full moon on the horizon. She had tied her hair up in a side ponytail, and it brushed her face softly whenever the wind blew. Her long white dress with a turquoise dip dye on the bottom was also billowing as she walked. She was feeling blissful, for some reason.
She recalled the activities she had undertaken earlier in the day. She had first hired a taxi to take her to the Ba Ho Stream for a hike, and then she swam in the three pools surrounded by boulders and waterfalls. Following that, she went for a long and restorative mud bath at the Thap Ba Hot Springs. She returned to town for lunch, and had bánh canh chả cá, a local specialty featuring fried fish cakes and noodles in a fish broth, which was lighter and sweeter, more tantalizing to her palate than the ubiquitous phở made with a beef broth. Afterward, she went home and gave Russian lessons to two students. When she checked her e-mail just before she set out for the beach, she discovered that she was the first place winner of an online photography contest, and that a check of one hundred U.S. dollars would be coming her way.
Ana relished the small joys of her new life in Nha Trang, especially since it was apparent that the relationship between her and her children would not mend any time soon. The hopefulness she felt when she first arrived in Nha Trang was rapidly deteriorating. Zoe had not called or come to visit since she moved out. Ana could always go to Rocking Waves to see Zoe, but she wouldn’t go, imprisoned by her guilt, shame, anger and pride. Ivan seemed to avoid Ana, and wouldn’t even acknowledge her presence when he saw her. He had practically stopped talking to her all together.