Lotusland

by David Joiner

  "But I don't know if I'm ready."

  "That's fine. Make whatever decision is best for you. We both know you're capable of looking out for yourself. Anyway, you know how to get in touch with me if you decide you want me around."

  She was looking off to the side when he stood up and said goodbye. She still hadn't moved when he turned down the path toward the gate. He watched her a moment longer, then headed for the street, where the vendor gave him directions to get back home.

  Fifteen

  His days at the office revolved around combing through agency e-mail, answering clients' questions, and submitting proposals as precursors for formal contracts. Twice a day he did an office walkthrough, making a point to speak with each employee and ask about whatever problems he or she had. Some work he delegated, but most of what appeared on his desk he dealt with himself. There were valuations and reports to write, and clients — mainly investors inquiring about the local market — constantly coming and going. It was essential that he keep on top of all the properties they were developing for purchase, renovation, and lease. During lulls, Anthony asked him to take a few high-level employees aside and help them improve their English. Normally there were two meetings a day to attend, which was in addition to general office administration. After a few weeks he felt his work squeezing him on all sides.

  The money was even better than Anthony had promised — the commissions alone, if they continued apace, would be enough to settle his debt with Anthony in slightly more than a year. But money wasn't what he was after, and soon he was waking up each morning overwhelmed with malaise. It took several weeks to unlock that feeling and understand that it came from not writing. Behind it was a kind of warning: you'll regret most the things you haven't done with your life, and in the end it will tear you apart. Time wasted, a voice told him, was time forever lost.

  When he returned home at night, time for himself was scant. If it weren't too late, he'd drive to a café near Le's house and, from a seat by the water, try to catch a glimpse of her painting beneath the banyan. Like his writing, however, little resulted from the investment of time. Sitting, of course, got him nowhere.

  Making friends in Hanoi was hard at first, particularly since he spent so much time at the office. Like with other things, it was simpler to rely on Anthony. But he found he had little in common with Anthony's friends, who for all practical purposes were only business contacts anyway.

  Late one morning Anthony called him into his office. Sitting at his desk, he was grinning into a local magazine. In one hand he was turning over a cell phone with his fingers.

  "Well, I did it," he announced as Nathan came in.

  "Did what?"

  "Helped you where you were unable to help yourself."

  Nathan couldn't guess what he was talking about. He hadn't come to Anthony with work problems, nor had he asked for any favors.

  Anthony dropped the magazine and pointed at a page of photos.

  "There she is. One of the hottest properties in Hanoi. Beautiful, successful, well-connected, rich. And thanks to me you've got a date with her."

  Nathan's first thought was to protest, but something stopped him. He stood there dumbly, scratching his head and smiling uncertainly.

  "I understand your surprise," Anthony said. "I couldn't believe it myself when she said she was free tonight after work. A woman like her, not only single but free on a moment's notice . . ."

  Nathan looked at the magazine. The woman's photograph was slightly blurry, but her image was clear enough for him to say she was beautiful.

  "Damn right she is," Anthony said. "Her name's Hoa."

  Hoa's photo was on a page with "Voyeur" printed across the top. Other photos included the state visit of Norwegian royalty; the ten-year anniversary of the New World Hotel; the launch of a Vietnamese gas company; a group of foreign lawyers waiting before the Opera House for a cyclo tour of Hanoi; and an organized walk to raise funds for Agent Orange victims from the war. Hoa was photographed at the opening of a new bar. She was slender and elegant in a thin-strapped evening dress, her hair ran halfway to her waist, and her face was tinged red, evidently from the champagne in her hand.

  Her appearance was faultless, and yet Nathan felt no excitement at being set up with her. Still, he had no reason to decline. At the very least she might offer a pleasant distraction.

  "I know it's short notice, but after work tonight the two of you are going to join me and Huong for dinner. Afterward we'll turn you loose on each other."

  "Does she know about me?"

  "Huong and I told her all about you."

  "What did you tell her?"

  "Good things, of course. Huong laid it on really thick. You'd think it was my wife who was excited to go out with you."

  Nathan's stomach stirred nervously as he handed back the magazine.

  Anthony turned it to the light to study Hoa's photo, shaking his head appreciatively.

  Nathan thought he heard his office phone ring. Anthony didn't seem to have anything serious he wanted to talk about, and Nathan was busy. "I'd better get back to work. I have to prep for a marketing meeting."

  "Hold on a second," Anthony said. "This is probably going to sound silly, but Huong asked me about you last night and I didn't know how to answer her."

  Startled, and suspicious that Anthony was baiting him for a particular end, Nathan waited for him to go on.

  "After we discussed you and Hoa, she asked if when you look into the future you see yourself married and having a family. She made me promise to interrogate you."

  Nathan caressed an imaginary crystal ball and pretended to channel his future. "Divorced a few times, but never married."

  "Too bad. I was going to suggest we swap wives after you're hitched."

  "Even if I were married I'd have to refuse. No offense, but Huong's not my type. I once thought she was, but that was before I knew what I wanted."

  "What?" Anthony said, laughing incredulously. "You two were serious for a while. She says that if she hadn't married me she'd have married you when you came back."

  That Huong would have said such a thing surprised Nathan. He suspected Anthony made this up to get a reaction. "We wouldn't have lasted."

  "You don't think she's attractive? Just a few weeks ago you were saying how beautiful she was."

  "Was I?" Nathan could neither admit nor refute that he'd said this. It wasn't like him to compliment his friends on the attractiveness of their wives. "Huong's pretty, of course. But that doesn't mean she's my type."

  "Why quibble over ‘type' when it's only a matter of swapping?"

  "This isn't a conversation I'm prepared to have."

  Anthony laughed and slapped his thigh. "Anyway, she likes you. Whenever she gets mad for some wrong I've inadvertently committed, she says she should leave me and run to you. It's a great joke to her."

  "She says what?"

  "It's partly to make me jealous, but also because, unlike me, you were born for domestic life."

  "I wasn't born for anything," Nathan said, stiffening at the charge. "It's no accident I've been in a rut for so long."

  "You only think that because you haven't married and had children. If something happened to me, I'm sure she wouldn't waste a second before calling you."

  His effort to make a joke of his predicament at home had started off innocuously, but something now corrupted it. Nathan worried that his name came up when they argued, and that Huong used him to get under Anthony's skin. He wondered what Anthony said about him to convince her she was wrong. He asked himself why he even cared what Huong thought of him.

  Nathan forced a laugh, but it did little to dispel the awkwardness. Even if he managed to dispel it, he was sure Anthony would find a way to bring it back. Anthony seemed to be waiting for his response, but after a moment he gave up.

  "Seriously, what do you think your fut
ure holds?"

  "I have no idea. That's something I need to figure out while I'm up here."

  "While you're up here," Anthony repeated. "You don't sound like you're planning to stick around."

  "I probably will. But I've been thinking of moving back to the States once my time here's up."

  For a few seconds Anthony stared at him. "I'm not your warden, you know."

  "I'm just saying that my future's on my mind."

  "You really think you can go back?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You and I, we've missed the boat. We're stranded here now. If you try going back you'll only find yourself in Vietnam again — maybe three our four years later, but with a lot of time and money wasted."

  "Why are we stranded?"

  "Nate," Anthony said, looking at him sternly, "who the hell would hire us? They'll look at our CVs and laugh in our faces. Even with my real estate experience, it would never translate into a comparable position in the U.S. Even with my credentials I'd have to start at the lowest rung. Besides, getting a good job back home is mostly a matter of who you know. Who do you know who'll help you over there? You don't even have any family now."

  The mention of his family took him aback. "There's always graduate school."

  "Sure. If the prospect of being a hundred thousand dollars in debt afterward doesn't bother you."

  "Not a hundred thousand dollars. Tuition at a state school's not that much."

  "Nathan," Anthony said brusquely. "Think: it's not only tuition that will put you in debt. It's living."

  "I've got time to figure it out."

  "Do you? You're nearly thirty. And you're committed to me for at least a few years."

  Nathan bristled at the arrogance behind Anthony's prognostications. Rather than argue, though, he smiled inwardly and reminded himself that they'd never discussed how long he'd work here. Anthony had merely extended him an opportunity, which mostly had to do with paying him back several thousand dollars. But it wasn't as one-sided as that: Nathan's agreement to come here benefited Anthony, too. In any case, he'd signed no contract. And if Anthony asked him to he'd refuse.

  "Where would you go? Back to Ohio?"

  Nathan saw the confidence of an easily won argument in Anthony's face.

  "I don't know. I haven't thought about it much."

  "No one in Ohio would know what to make of someone who spent seven years in Vietnam. They'd think you were a communist. Besides, you have too much Vietnamese in you now to go back to what you had there."

  "I don't want what I had. I just want to be able to choose what to do with my life. Maybe I'll go to California. I like the sun."

  "You sound like that girl in Saigon who broke your heart."

  Nathan bit his tongue; he knew his smile appeared unnatural. "She never made it to California. Now, if it's all right with you, I've got a meeting . . ."

  "Where is she now?"

  "Still in Vietnam."

  "In Saigon? Looking for someone to marry and take her away?"

  "Maybe you should ask Andrew. He always has his nose in other people's business."

  "Maybe I'll do that."

  "If you don't mind, I need to get going."

  Anthony was silent a long time. When Nathan made to leave he said: "Maybe California's the right place for you, then. Sometimes I think hell's not as bad as advertised, either. I mean, look at me: not long ago I was convinced that Vietnam was right for me."

  "I hope I answered Huong's questions satisfactorily," Nathan said. He walked out of Anthony's office — quickly, before he could be called back.

  Back in his office Nathan remembered that Le had invited him that night to an exhibition of century-old German drawings. Even though her invitation had been casually offered — "Come if you have time," she suggested in a phone message — he was irritated at having forgotten it. He viewed her invitation as an opening for the two of them.

  After work he followed Anthony to his villa. Huong was waiting for them in the living room, smoothing down her short, frilly dress before a mirror. "We should have left by now," she said as a greeting to them both.

  "Good to see you, too," Anthony said.

  Nathan sat on a chair by the window. In the middle of the floor, Anh and Hao lay on their stomachs. Their grandparents sat behind them. All four were riveted to a Tom and Jerry cartoon dubbed in Vietnamese and didn't so much as look at Nathan or Anthony when they entered.

  Anthony returned with two drinks. After handing one to Nathan he sat on the arm of the chair and stared blankly at his children. Nathan sipped the clear liquid in his glass and winced. Anthony had poured him three fingers of straight gin.

  "Huong," Anthony said after gulping his drink. "Take Nathan upstairs and pick out something for him to wear. He seems to think he'll impress Hoa with what he has on."

  "He looks fine," she said, sighing for Anthony's benefit. Then, turning to Nathan with the imprint of impatience Anthony's dallying had left on her, she said in Vietnamese: "Hoa's excited to meet you. If you make a good impression, and I know you will, she won't notice if you show up wearing a dress."

  "But if the point is to make a good impression, wearing a dress doesn't seem like the way to do it."

  "Did Anthony show you her picture?"

  "Yes." He could tell she wanted him to say what he thought of her, but he didn't want to give her something to share with Hoa later, even if it would be to his benefit. In English he said: "Where are we going tonight?"

  Hao rolled onto her side and shushed them. But when she saw the angry look Huong flashed her she smiled innocently and rolled back onto her stomach. Anthony's mother-in-law picked up the remote control and raised the volume.

  "A place called Au Co, off of Xuan Dieu," Anthony answered. "It's romantic at night."

  Nathan had driven by it a few times. While it looked nice from what he'd seen down its steep sloping drive, he was surprised they hadn't chosen some place more exclusive. "Maybe we should've just had dinner here."

  "No," Huong snapped. "I want to get out sometimes, too." As if embarrassed by her outburst, she left the room.

  It was too late to back out now, Nathan thought, but he'd try to come up with an excuse to leave dinner early. Even though he and Le weren't together anymore, he couldn't get past the feeling that it was too early, or just wrong, for him to see someone else. The only woman he felt capable of being close to — the only woman he wanted to be close to — was Le.

  On the TV, Tom howled in pain after Jerry smashed him over the head with a frying pan. The kids and their grandparents burst out laughing.

  "It numbs the mind just being here," Anthony said. "Let's wait outside. Huong'll find us."

  Nathan followed him across the room and through the door.

  Sixteen

  When they arrived Hoa was on the open second floor, gazing at a pond behind the restaurant. The pond's existence surprised Nathan, though he supposed it shouldn't. Water was everywhere in Vietnam: no coincidence that in Vietnamese the word nước denoted ‘water' as well as ‘country.'

  When she stood to greet them, he saw she was taller than her photo had indicated. Her striped, charcoal blazer and trousers emphasized her thinness, and reminded him of the outfit Le wore to her final interview at the consulate. Hoa exchanged a kiss on each cheek with Anthony and Huong and, when his turn came, he nearly gagged at her perfume. He withdrew from her cheek, which was so warm he thought it must be blood rather than rouge that gave her such healthy color, and sat down beside her.

  "You didn't bring her a gift," Anthony said. Then, looking at Hoa: "I instructed him clearly to bring you something nice."

  "I was in the office all day," Nathan protested.

  Everyone laughed at his defensiveness.

  "That's okay," Hoa said. "But next time I won't forgive you."

  "Hear that, N
ate? She let you off the hook. You don't let a woman like that slip through your fingers."

  Hoa's perfume clung to him. Spotting a wet face-towel in a bamboo tray, he picked it up and tried discreetly to wipe his face.

  He'd been so conscious of meeting Hoa, and of being observed by Anthony and Huong, that he'd only given their environs a passing glance. As Anthony ordered for everyone, Nathan looked around. On the far side of the pond, under the bright moonlight, several men squatted with bamboo fishing poles between their knees. They were 50 meters away, but each man's head was angled in a way that suggested they were watching the restaurant. Trees that might have been weeds a thousand years ago swayed behind them. The men looked like cats that had emerged from a forest, their narrow eyes intent on the strange civilization across the water.

  In the pond's dark middle was a floating hut. A small boat bumped against it, and someone hovered in the doorway, watching them like the fishermen were.

  "How do you and Anthony know each other?" Hoa said, disturbing Nathan's observations.

  "It's hard to remember."

  "You sound like an old man," she said, and everyone laughed.

  Nathan saw Anthony rewinding through time, searching for the moment they'd exchanged their first hello. "We lived in the same Saigon guesthouse. He rented a room above mine and annoyed me with his noise. I went upstairs to make him shut up and, to appease me, he invited me out for a beer. A week later I got him a job at my school. Come to think of it, I'm always helping you land a job."

  "Not the writing job."

  "That was more like volunteer work."

  "What did you write?" Hoa asked.

  "Short articles no one read," Anthony answered.

  "She was asking Nathan, not you," Huong scolded him.

  "He's basically right," Nathan said. "Although I surprised myself a year ago by getting a travel article in the San Francisco Chronicle and another in the San Jose Mercury News."

  "Those were the only things that paid decently, I bet. Why didn't you send them more articles?"