The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money.
The currency in Vietnam is called the dong. Pronounced dom. Trouble is there’s about fifteen or sixteen thousand dong to one American dollar. So you carry tons of paper money around with you all the time. Now the old man was peeling off reams of the stuff and giving it to Mr. Vinh.
I tried to keep track but gave up after a while. “Will we see him again?”
“Not likely. He’s taking out a group of vets tomorrow. They’re going to Hue.” From the tone of his voice I could tell I was right. They were still pissed off at each other from before.
“Why didn’t Mrs.Vinh come back with us?”
“She stayed at the camp. Probably that next bunch of guys will stay there overnight. Like we did.”
I couldn’t tell if Mr. Vinh knew that we were talking about him. When he had been paid, he nodded and started for the apartment. The tube house. I ran up alongside him. He stopped and looked at me.
I didn’t know if I should try to shake his hand or bow or what. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”
He didn’t smile, but I didn’t think he looked mad either. “You try not fall in water.”
Ha, ha, ha. He turned and dodged a couple more motorbikes on the way to his apartment. I didn’t stop watching until he disappeared inside. I liked the guy, and I didn’t really care what the old man thought.
When I turned around, the old man was getting into the Land Rover. I walked around and climbed in the passenger side. I cranked my head around and looked at the gazillion or so motorbikes. I had no idea how we’d actually get back out on the street.
“This should be fun,” I said.
The old man decided this wasn’t the time for Canadian road courtesy. He was probably right. He leaned on the horn and started backing up. Somehow he wedged us back out onto the street without killing anyone. I was pretty sure there was more horn honking and yelling than there had been before, but what the hell, we were out there.
I could have rolled down my window and had a face-to-face conversation with all kinds of people as they inched by us and we inched back in front of them. I didn’t.
“So what’s next?”
“I got some shit to do.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to say ‘shit.’”
“Based on what was said on 453, I think we can put a moratorium on the shit moratorium.”
I nodded. “Probably. What time is it?”
“Coming up on four o’clock. Rush hour in Saigon.”
“Sweet.”
It took a real long time to get back to the Rex. I now knew how ants felt. Or bees in a hive. Or all those millions of buffalo that roamed North America 150 years ago. Anyway, you get what I mean.
By the time we were parked and out of the Land Rover, I had made a career decision. I’d open a motorbike dealership in downtown Saigon. Should be able to retire at about twenty-three. We grabbed our gear and headed for the room.
When we got there, I had the longest bath of my life. Every time the water cooled off a little, I ran more hot into the tub. I don’t know how long I was in there, but I still wasn’t convinced I was clean. Or ever would be again.
The old man had gone back to not talking much during the drive back to the Rex. That had been okay with me. I’d been mentally putting together my motorbike business plan.
When I got out of the bathtub, there was a note on a table in the room: Nathan. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Here’s money. Get something to eat.
And there was money sitting next to the note. Even though I had some of my own, I didn’t mind taking some from the old man — especially after the last couple of days. I figured he owed me, so I got dressed, pocketed the dong, and wrote my own note. I left it on top of his.
I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Thanks for the money. I’m going to use it to buy heroin. P.S. It’s Nate, not Nathan.
I headed downstairs. Two hours to myself in Saigon. The thing I wanted most was a grilled cheese sandwich. I doubted I’d find one of those anywhere in Saigon, but I was hungry enough that even noodles sounded okay.
But first I stopped at the lobby computer to check my e-mail. Jackpot. Jen (the Australian version) had answered the email I’d sent her before our trip to the A Shau Valley. What was really weird was that it seemed like the old man and I had been gone for a couple of weeks, not a couple of days.
There’d be time to think about that later. Right now, there was Jen.
Hi Nate
I’m really glad you remembered my email address. And yes I’d love to do a movie or a burger or both with you when you get back. My cell is 04-7010-9211. And we’re staying at the Grand Hotel, Room 519. Call me. I’ll tell my dad you’re a pizza delivery guy. For some reason he doesn’t like you. Or your dad. Can’t imagine why.
LOL
Jen
There’s some stuff I don’t get. How is it that a guy who couldn’t buy a date in Canada can get hooked up a few thousand miles from home with a totally hot chick who is also a few thousand miles from home?
I called her cell, and got her message, so I called the room. That took some doing, but the woman at the desk helped me, and I eventually got through. Jen’s dad answered. I did the worst impersonation of a Vietnamese guy that’s ever been done.
“I spreak to Jen-rady, prease. Pizza she order is leady.”
“What?”
I said all the same stuff again.
“You must have the wrong number.”
“No. No long numbah. I speak to Jen-rady … pizza leady.”
I could hear them talking in the background. Then Jen came on the line.
“Yes?”
“Yeah, I don’t think he bought the whole pizza delivery thing. Mostly because I sound like crap as a Vietnamese person.”
Her voice got a little louder. “I’m sorry I didn’t order a pizza. I just asked for some … uh … information about your pizza.”
I figured her dad must be standing close by.
“Information about pizza? What the hell does that mean? You aren’t any better at this than I am. Tell you what, I’ll be in the lobby of your hotel in fifteen minutes. I’m hoping you’ll be down there. I’ll be the guy without a pizza.”
“Yes, thank you, that’ll be fine.” She hung up.
I was hoping her dad was either very trusting or incredibly stupid. Either way, I planned to be in the lobby of the Grand Hotel in fifteen minutes. Which reminded me that I had no idea where the place was.
2
The same woman at the desk made my night. The Grand was a ten-minute walk from the Rex. There is a god.
I strolled out onto the streets of Saigon. It was evening, I figured about seven o’clock, still warm but nothing like the jungle. Okay, so rush hour was over, and there was still the same number of motorbikes on the road. I abandoned my career as a motorbike sales guy. I was already sick of the things.
There was an unreal feel to everything that was happening to me. Thirty hours before, I’d been puking on a mud-covered hill with a killer dog about to tear my face off.
And now here I was walking down the street like Robert Downey Jr. in all those Iron Man movies, like nothing had happened. But something had happened to me. Something I’d never forget. Something that made me different from what I’d been before. More stuff to think about later.
The Grand is another nice hotel. I wandered through the front doors and looked around. No sign of Jen. What if she didn’t come down? What if her dad wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t let her come down?
I sat down in a big soft chair that faced the elevators and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out, wearing a white sleeveless top and tight jeans. I reminded myself that Jen was a very good-looking chick. And hot.
I stood up and smiled, trying to think of something funny or brilliant to say. Funny and brilliant would be even better. Unfortunately, I had nothin’.
She crossed th
e lobby, laughing — a good sign — and when she got to me, put her arms around my neck and hugged me. Brushed her lips across my cheek. These were even better signs. She stepped back, still laughing, kept her hands on my shoulders.
“You’re crazy, you know that, right?”
“A few people have mentioned that.” I looked behind her at the elevator. “Should I be watching for your dad to be following you … maybe carrying a rifle?”
“I think he knows I was coming down here to meet a guy. He just doesn’t know what guy. That’s probably for the best.”
“Are you saying my amazing Vietnamese pizza guy impersonation didn’t work? It’s never failed me before.”
“Let’s just say selling pizza in Ho Chi Minh City — not a good career move for you. So what are we doing?”
“Uh … ” Until that moment I hadn’t thought about that. I mean it was a date, sort of. I was supposed to have a plan.
“Do you happen to know where a guy can get a grilled cheese sandwich?” When in doubt, buy time with some really lame humour.
“No, but I do know where we can get an amazing burger.”
“Serious?”
“And it’s not even far from here. Come on.” She grabbed my hand, and we started for the door. But when we got outside, I pulled her to a stop. “I just have to make a quick stop at my hotel. It’s not very far. I have to tell the old man that we’re going out. I kind of didn’t.”
Jen shrugged. “Sure. Where to?”
“This way.” Now it was my time to guide her. Which meant crossing the street through the usual motorbike mayhem and navigating our way through the crowd that seemed to be growing by the minute. Didn’t anybody in this town stay home?
We tried to talk. So what’ve you been doing? That kind of stuff but mostly one of us hollered something, and the other one yelled “What?” Really loud. Not a great way to have a conversation. We gave up until we got inside the lobby of the Rex.
Then it got tricky. Do I invite her to come up to the room while I update the note to the old man? How does that look? But is that worse than abandoning her down here in the lobby?
I was still working that over in my mind when I heard, “Nathan.”
I turned around and the old man was standing there. Problem solved.
“Hi, I was just going up to the room to leave you a note. I … uh we … we’re going out for a burger.”
The old man looked at me with a little smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
“Good, I hope you have fun.” The smile got bigger … like he meant it.
“Oh … uh, this is Jen. She’s from —”
“Australia. I know.” The old man held out his hand to shake hers, which meant she had to let go of my hand. I’d forgotten we were still holding hands. Awkward moment.
They shook. “We’ve met. Your dad too. We had a nice heart to heart.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jen looked like she didn’t know whether she was supposed to smile or not.
“I’d really like you to tell him I’m sorry. We met at a bad moment, and I was a bit hard on him.”
“If I tell him that, he’ll want to know when he can interview you for his book.”
“No interview. Just mention I apologized. Nathan, can I speak to you a minute?”
He started to walk off. I looked at Jen, shrugged and followed the old man as he walked over to where there were some couches. He didn’t sit down. I couldn’t tell if he was mad or what.
He kind of moved his head like he wanted me to come closer. Secret talk. I moved closer.
He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet.
“I already have money. I took the stuff you left me on the table.”
He nodded. “Listen, I’ll make this quick. I don’t want to keep you from your girl for long. I … don’t know how much you know. You got any of these?”
I had to look down because he was keeping his hand tight to his body. He opened his hand to let me see. He was holding a condom. All the years he never sent me a Christmas present, and now here he was sneaking his kid a condom.
“Hey, we’re going for a burger.”
“Yeah, I know that. You got any of these?”
“No, but I —”
“Shut up. I’m not telling you you’re supposed to try to make it with that girl. I’m just telling you that if something happens, it would be a hell of a lot better if you had one of these.”
I looked down again. This was uncomfortable. Like we were wrapping up a drug deal. I looked around. It felt like people were watching us even though I didn’t actually see anyone looking our way. Jen was turned away from us, staring out the front window.
“Okay.” I reached out, palmed the condom and slid it into my jeans pocket. “Uh … thanks.”
“You sure you got enough money?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, honest. Thanks.”
He nodded and started walking away. Then he stopped and turned back to me. “Have fun. And if it turns out you didn’t need that, it doesn’t mean the night was a failure.”
What does that mean? “I know how to go on a date.”
“I wouldn’t have onions on the burger.” He grinned at me.
“You are really weird.”
“Yeah.” He nodded then waved past me at Jen. As I turned away from him, Jen was waving back.
When I got to her, she took my hand again. “Your dad is actually nice.”
“I guess.”
“What did he want?”
“He … just wanted to make sure I had enough money. Wanted us to have a good time.”
“He’s really nice,” she said again.
“Yeah.”
3
The Black Cat (Meo Den in Vietnamese) was as good as Jen said it would be. The burger was one of the best I’d ever had, and the place looked like it could have been in Calgary or Minneapolis.
Most of the people in the place weren’t Vietnamese, which meant that there was a lot of English being spoken. It’s surprising how much you miss your own language when everyone around you is speaking something else.
Jen and I had found a table against a wall and a guy had brought us two menus. I looked at it but mostly I was trying to think of stuff to talk about. For some reason there seemed to be a short circuit between the part of my brain that thinks of stuff to say and the part of my face that says it.
This kid I know at school told me he was crazy about this chick, but she wasn’t a big talker, which meant that when the guy phoned her it was pretty much up to him to keep the conversation moving along. He told me he’d write out stuff before he phoned her, little notes about things he could say or ask her about.
Thing is that might work on the phone, but I’m pretty sure the first time a guy pulls out the ol’ notepad when he’s sitting across from a girl and it’s like So … Sally, it’s Sally, right? Yeah I was wondering … uh … uh … (flipping open notebook) … oh, uh yeah … so, how old are you? Game, set, match. She’s outta there, and you’ve got nothing but your notepad for company.
“I guess most people order the hamburgers when they come here.”
“Yeah, but not everybody. They’ve got really good Mexican too. At least, that’s what my dad said. He had it.”
I looked around again. “Mexican and burgers. I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Me neither. It’s like I had the whole place wrong. I thought we were coming to this totally like third-world country with peasants and people with baskets on their heads.”
I nodded. “Same. Guess I should have googled.”
She laughed. “Anyway, they have a burger here, it’s 1.4 kilograms. It’s supposed to be like the biggest burger in the world. The place is famous for that burger.”
I looked at her. “Are you kidding me? There’s a place in Canada that serves this big burger, I think it’s a third of a pound. The one you’re talking about would be like nine of those.”
Jen laughed again. She had a great laugh. One that m
ade you want to laugh with her. “I don’t know if anybody’s ever finished one. When I was here before, this guy ordered one, big guy too, but he didn’t get through half of it.”
The whole conversation thing was getting easier. “Think I’ll go with a normal-sized burger.”
“Me too. You can order them. I’ll go get us a beer.” She got up and left before I could say anything.
I looked around. Some people were drinking, but none of them were kids. I watched Jen stroll up to the bar, positive she’d be turned away and come back to our table with an embarrassed smile on her face.
I was right about the smile, except she wasn’t embarrassed, and in her hands were two cans of Coors Light. She set them down and sat back down in her seat, looking at me. I think maybe I was staring.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I answered, “it’s just that getting arrested on our first date, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“You worried about the beer?”
“Well … I guess … yeah.”
“You know what the drinking age is in Vietnam?”
I shook my head.
“There isn’t one.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Actually, I’ve heard two stories about that. One is that there is no drinking age, and the second is that there is one, but nobody has ever asked anybody for ID in the history of the country.”
“Cool.”
“And you know something else? They have very few problems with drunk kids getting into trouble.”
“How do you know this stuff?” I asked her.
“Research. When I found out we were coming here, I decided to find out a few things about the place.”
“Research. If you know all that stuff, how come you still thought it was a third-world country and all primitive?”
“I guess I didn’t research that part.”
I looked around. “No baskets on heads.” I grinned at her so she’d know I was kidding.
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