by C. L. Hoang
“Mom, I’m not a bad boy, am I?” he demanded, on the verge of tears.
Before I could react, he went on, his voice shaking with hurt and anger. “My teacher said I was. She did. She said Americans are mean people and that’s why they were all kicked out. Then all the kids pointed at me and laughed.”
As I pulled him into my arms, he began to sob. “It must be true. I must be really bad . . . nobody wants to be friends with me. Even Daddy doesn’t want me . . . he never came back for us, Mommy . . .”
Oh Roger, the pain I felt right then was worse than any knife cuts, but I knew I must stay strong for our son. So I held him tight and covered his head with kisses and let him cry his little heart out on my shoulder. When I thought the worst had passed, I wiped his tears dry then squatted in front of him and looked him in the eye.
“Hey, baby,” I said, “you’re the most wonderful boy any parents could ever wish for. I am so thankful to have you. And I assure you Daddy would be, too, if he could be here with us and see you with his own eyes. He would be so proud of you. I just know it. But he can’t come back to us now, honey. They won’t let him.”
Sơn started to cry again, so I held his face in my hands and shushed him softly. “I promise you some day when you’re all grown up, big and strong, I’ll explain everything to you so you know exactly what happened, and you can decide for yourself then. But no matter what, darling, I guarantee you Daddy would want to make sure that I love you plenty enough for the both of us. And I do.”
I couldn’t sleep a wink that night, hurting and crying for our son into the morning, wondering if there wasn’t a better way I could have handled the crisis. Until this day, I have no idea how much he believed what I said to him, but he never brought up the subject again.
My sight blurred with tears, I can hardly make out these last few lines. Lee Anne was right. The pain I’m feeling for her and our boy is almost physical, pulsing and stabbing along my back. It’s such heartbreaking irony, as I think back on those years, that while Debbie and I were trying to conceive a child of our own, this beautiful young boy yearned so painfully for me from halfway around the world. What a shame, and what a terrible injustice to him. All that time lost, all that love and hope squandered. There’s no possible way I can ever make it up to him, and that’s a tragic burden my heart will always have to bear.
This last incident convinced me once and for all there was no viable future for Sơn in this homeland that rejected him. And so, like countless other folks without hope all over Việt-Nam, I began to explore the only option available to us. Thousands of people had escaped to freedom on makeshift boats rescued by international freighters off the coastline. But then, on the other hand, thousands more not so fortunate had perished on the high seas or at the hands of pirates, never to be heard from again. It was a desperate and dangerous gamble, an all-or-nothing last resort, even setting aside the heavy penalty meted out to those caught attempting it. As much as I wanted a better life for Sơn, I was paralyzed with fear of the extreme consequences.
Luckily in the end I didn’t have to make that agonizing choice thanks to the intervention, once again, from my devoted friends and benefactors, Elise and Mme Yvonne. In 1980, a long letter from Elise advised me that she and Mme Yvonne had hired a lawyer in Washington, DC, where she now lived, to look into the Orderly Departure Program and to file a petition on Sơn’s and my behalf. This humanitarian program had just been authorized by the US government to allow Vietnamese citizens meeting certain criteria to immigrate to America as political refugees. Under this charter, it appeared we would both qualify. I, as the widow of an ARVN officer who used to work alongside American advisers, also as a former employee of Bank of America, and Sơn, as a child of half-American descent, even judging by looks alone.
It took two long years and a mountain of red tape to convince the communist government to let us leave. Finally, in 1982, after Sơn’s thirteenth birthday, he and I boarded what you might call our own “freedom flight” to America. As we looked out the windows at the rice paddies and jungles below, we cried and said good-bye to the beautiful but tragic homeland we’d loved our whole lives, knowing we might never see it again. Meanwhile, the future, even with the promise of long-sought freedom, remained as mysterious as the bright white clouds we were flying straight into.
It turned out we were sponsored by a church group in Orange County, California, who had volunteered to assist us rebuild our life in this land of sunshine. Their welcome committee came to greet us at the airport, and with them were Dean, Elise, Mme Yvonne, and Mr. Bill, who had all flown out from back east for the occasion. You can imagine what an emotional reunion it was. It had been less than fifteen years since we had all come together, but it felt like a whole lifetime of upheaval. Until it actually happened, none of us had dared to hope we’d meet again.
Words were inadequate to express the joy and relief we all felt in that unforgettable moment. We three girls clung to each other, crying, until I heard Dean ask Sơn a question, and I introduced our boy to everybody. From the appreciative looks in their eyes, I could tell they all noticed his striking resemblance to you. Auntie Elise pulled him to her and reminded him how she and Uncle Dean used to cradle him as a baby in their arms. Mme Yvonne remarked what a handsome young man he was growing up to be. For the first time in months, I saw him crack a shy smile, and I knew then things would work out just fine for us in this new adopted homeland.
I’m not going to bore you with details of our new life in America. It’s a nice, simple existence, blissfully uneventful, like day and night compared to the living nightmare we had escaped from. After all, in this land of freedom and opportunity, all one needs to do to get a shot at a good life is work hard and respect the law, and that’s pretty much what we’ve strived to do since our first day. Given the urgency of our situation, it wasn’t practical for me to go back to college to study for my teaching credentials. So I chose a new career path and became a Licensed Vocational Nurse. It was hard work, but it provided me with a satisfying job that earned a decent living for Sơn and myself.
To my amazement and relief, it didn’t take our boy long to adapt to his new environment. He took to it like a fish to water and just seemed to blossom in this free and open atmosphere. After spending the first year assimilating the language and culture, he caught up with school and was admitted into the appropriate grade. From then on, there was no stopping him. It was as if he understood, even at his tender age, that he’d been given a second start in life and it was up to him to make the most of it.
I still remember those early evenings when he sat at the kitchen table doing homework while I prepared dinner over the stove after a long workday. On several occasions, he looked up from the books and said to me in earnest, “You know, Mom, I’m going to get a good job when I get out of school so you don’t have to work so hard anymore.” His heartfelt words choked me to tears every time, and needless to say, they took away all my burdens.
Oh Roger, you’d be so proud of him. He’s everything a parent could wish for in a son, and I’m not saying that just out of love. Although not the most outgoing kid, no doubt because of his childhood experience, nor the most fun, since he leaned more to the serious side, he was popular with his peers who appreciated his sweet temper and thoughtfulness. Likewise, Dean and Elise, as well as Mme Yvonne and Mr. Bill, have always had a soft spot in their hearts for our son, initially because of their connection to you and me, and then as they got to know him over the years, for the nice young man he had grown into.
You’ll be pleased to know that Sơn had inherited more than just your good looks, but also your scientific bent. He has always shown a natural knack for the sciences and has consistently excelled in those classes. I’m sure he didn’t get that from me, but eventually it earned him a full scholarship to the University of California, here in Irvine.
Four years later, in 1991, he graduated at the top of his engineering
department. My dearest Roger, it was without doubt the happiest and proudest day of my life when I got to see our baby in cap and gown, triumphant over all the odds against him. Nobody knew, but in my grateful heart I was sharing every glorious moment of it with you.
“Now it’s my turn to take good care of you, Mama,” he said as he put his arms around me while I tried to wipe away the tears. “You’ve been working hard all your life. It’s only fair you get some rest now and do fun stuff for a change. Go travel and visit your friends back east, why don’t you, Mom? It seems they’ve always come out here to see us.”
I thanked him for the offer but hung on to my job. I was too young yet to retire, I reminded him, and besides I still found fulfillment in my work. As a mother, I could also foresee the day coming when he’d need to take care of his own family, and I wouldn’t want to burden him with extra responsibility.
As it so happened, that day wasn’t too far off.
Remember I wrote about Sơn’s best friend in Sài-Gòn, the orphan girl who had come to stay with her uncle’s family a few doors down from us? And how devastated our boy was when they all disappeared one night? At the time, it was rumored they had attempted to escape by boat to freedom, but nobody could confirm it. We never learned what had happened to them.
But fate works in mysterious and confounding ways. It turned out the whole family had somehow made it safely to America and had settled in nearby Long Beach. It would be a few years yet before Sơn and his long-lost friend crossed paths again, purely by chance and this time as young adults attending college at UCI. When they finally reconnected, Sơn told me, it was like they had never lost touch. In time, their renewed friendship would only grow stronger.
I couldn’t have been happier for our son. She was the perfect girl for him. Smart, pretty, and so sweet, but most important, they shared a unique bond with each other, having come from similar disadvantaged backgrounds. On a level that even a parent could seldom get to, they had always understood each other’s deepest yearnings from a young age. Whenever he was with her, there was a peace about him, a quiet happiness, as if he was finally home. What more could I want for my boy?
And so, after she graduated from college one year behind him, they got married with everyone’s blessings. All our friends flew out for the happy occasion. Dean and Elise’s beautiful and talented daughter, Clara, played the piano at the wedding.
Since the apartment Sơn and I had occupied wasn’t large enough for all of us, I suggested the young couple get their own place. They planned to rent a house and have me come live with them, but I gently declined their thoughtful offer. This wasn’t Việt-Nam, where it was customary for two or more generations to stay together under the same roof, and I thought it would be nice for the newlyweds to enjoy their privacy.
It wasn’t like they were moving across the country or anything. In fact, they lived just blocks from me and frequently stopped over after work for dinner or to invite me to their place on the weekend. I had always liked Sơn’s wife from the first time we’d met, but I soon took to loving her like my own daughter. I’m happy to say our affection is genuine and mutual. She’s soft-spoken and considerate, intelligent without pretension. Inside and out, she’s as beautiful as the flower whose name she bears. Can you tell, Roger? I’m crazy about our daughter-in-law.
Her name is Lan, which means “Orchid” in Vietnamese.
Lan. The name reverberates through my head like a shockwave. She was right here, only hours ago, sitting just steps away from me.
My daughter-in-law.
Sơn’s wife—and the future mother of my grandchildren.
I can still hear Dean’s voice introducing her to me. “There’s somebody here I’d like you to meet . . . This is Lan.” And then her hand so soft in mine. I didn’t even have a good look at her, so flustered was I to see Dean and Elise again after thirty years. The whole time the three of us were busy catching up, she just sat, quiet and self-effaced, next to Elise on the couch. But in the end she did come and sit by me. It was she who gave me an account of what had happened with “Auntie Liên,” along with the package.
But why pass herself for Lee Anne’s niece instead of her—our—daughter-in-law? Why didn’t she tell me everything right then, after making the effort to drive down with Elise and deliver the package to me in person? Why didn’t anybody else, for that matter? Do they all know the complete story? And what about Sơn? He didn’t come with his wife.
My head spinning, I stare at the sheaf of papers in my hand. Perhaps there’s still more to be revealed in the conclusion to this marathon letter, which must have taken a great deal out of Lee Anne. The current page had abruptly ended where I stopped, and to my surprise, I discover she had started a second letter instead.
Little Sài-Gòn, March 15th 1998,
My dear Roger,
By the time you receive these letters, you’ll probably have heard about my heart condition. It isn’t good, and it’s deteriorating faster than the doctors have expected. That’s why I didn’t get around to finishing my other letter. But there are a couple more things I need to mention to you while I still have a chance. So please bear with me again.
My greatest regret, Roger, is that I didn’t let you know about our son. I did what I thought was best for you, given the circumstances. But even now as my time draws near, there’s still that lingering doubt whether I did the right thing for all of us. It’s what prompted me to write you at length, so you may learn the whole truth some day. And when you do, I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.
I have also told everything to Sơn and Lan, and explained it was my decision and mine alone that kept you out of Sơn’s life. The last thing I would want to leave him with is the mistaken assumption that you had abandoned him, that he wasn’t wanted. I also made it clear that after I’m gone, it will be entirely up to them if they wish to get in touch with you. It will be their turn to make the call. The only request I have is that they exercise discretion and good judgment if and when they do approach you, to minimize any upheaval in your life. To that end, they may enlist Dean’s assistance for any helpful information he can gather through his network of friends. I told them I have a letter for you that would explain everything in detail, which they are to deliver into your hands if they ever decide to meet with you. Along with it are some old, treasured keepsakes I’d like you to have.
It’s my sad suspicion it might be a long time before Sơn comes looking for you, Roger. It wouldn’t be any long-standing resentment against you that will keep him away, for he’s really not one to hold a grudge, but rather his deep-rooted fear of rejection from those early childhood years. Maybe some day when he has a child of his own, he will understand how great a father’s love can be, then realize what he’s missing in his life and start searching for it.
My sweetheart—may I call you that, just this once—this may well be the last time I write you. Though my heart is full of tears of this impending farewell, I’m grateful for the chance we had in this lifetime, no matter how fleeting it was. There’s so much more inside me than I can express in words, but I do want to say to you, my dear, sweet Roger, “Thank you for everything.” It is my fervent wish that in time fate will turn kinder to “our family” (how I love those simple words!) and allow you and Sơn to one day connect, without causing you difficulties. When that wonderful day arrives, just know in your heart I’ll be there with both of you, sharing in your happiness.
God bless, and my love always,
Liên (Lee Anne)
My head in my hands, I can hardly breathe or move a muscle.
Images flash by on an endless reel before my mind’s eye, of a time and place long since gone, buried deep under the Mulberry Sea. The table on the green lawn under the arbor of bougainvillea, the juice stand on a busy street corner downtown Sài-Gòn, the lotus pond in the Botanical Garden, the spring flower market on Nguyễn-Huệ Boulevard. Sup
erimposed over all these scenes are luminous memories of Lee Anne with her radiant smile and her long, silky hair the color of tropical night, in a beautiful áo dài that lifts and swirls with each graceful step.
This—this is my Việt-Nam, the one I loved and always will.
I finally stir. The room feels cold and deadly quiet, weighed down by heavy loneliness.
Lee Anne is gone.
It was as if she had come to say good-bye before setting out on a long journey, and we had spent the whole day and night catching up and she had just now walked out the door. I can still feel her presence almost, hear her soothing voice and smell her breath like lotus flowers, and my empty arms ache for her. She has brought me an unexpected and most incredible parting gift, one that binds us together, in life as in death. Even as my heart is pained by her physical absence, it overflows with love and gratitude for her.
I glance at the clock on the fireplace mantel. Another night has slipped away, and soon it’ll be sunrise again. As overwhelmed as I am by this latest whirl of events, I don’t feel the slightest need to go to bed. There’s a long list of things that demand immediate attention, and my feverish mind is racing a mile a minute, planning and prioritizing.
After all, I have three missing decades to make up for—and precious little time to waste.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It’s all I can do to force myself to stick to my regular routine—coffee, newspaper, shower—then to while away a couple more hours before calling Lan, so as not to disturb her too early.
As her phone starts ringing, I suddenly realize it may be Sơn who answers, and my heart leaps into a sprint. And so it’s a relief, tempered with a measure of disappointment, when I recognize Lan’s voice on the other end.