by David Joiner
"I'm telling you, I just want to leave everything I have and start over. But in America, not here."
Nathan was at a loss for words. From his disordered feelings, what he felt most strongly was anger. Finally he said: "Don't do it. Think about your family."
"I know it sounds terrible. But consider it from my perspective. Huong doesn't love me. Her parents, who I never wanted to live with us, have taken over my house and don't even have the decency to acknowledge me when I say hello. And my children, my own flesh and blood, hate me. You've seen it — it's unnatural. I'd rather be dead than continue to live like this."
Nathan listened carefully. Part of him fantasized about being in Anthony's shoes — not as the owner of a real estate firm, but with a house of his own, and having started a family. He wondered how things had become so bad between Anthony and Huong. Not long ago they were happy together, and their lives much simpler.
"How many chances in life do we have to make a family?" Anthony said. "The odds were stacked against me from the start. If I'd known, I never would've let myself get to this point. But it's happened, so now what? To accept things is the same as throwing my life away. Do you see this, Nate? Can you understand it from my perspective?"
"It's complicated . . ."
"I'm telling you, I don't want to die here. I don't want to be buried here. I don't want to decompose in Vietnamese soil. I don't want to fertilize their rice fields or fruit trees or flower gardens. Or weeds in a ditch. I've given enough to this place already."
"What do you want from me?" Nathan spoke harshly, barely resisting the urge to chuck his glass into the lake in frustration.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, why the fuck are you telling me this? How am I supposed to react to what you're saying?"
In the ensuing silence the sound of water smacking their kayak grew loud. "For a long time I've been afraid to bring it up. I just didn't know how. But since you asked . . ." Anthony's voice had become strangely pleading.
Another long moment passed, the silence punctuated by occasional curses.
"Actually, I've decided to leave," he said at last. "For California. And I'm not coming back."
Nathan couldn't grasp what he was saying. Today was the first time he'd heard Anthony talk about leaving.
"When I go, I need you to do something for me. But I don't want you to answer me right away. I don't even want you to look at me after I've said it."
"Jesus Christ, Anthony."
"I'm not fucking around!" The kayak rocked and Nathan thrust his hands to the sides to steady himself.
"What is it?"
"I want you to take over for me. The company. All my peripheral business commitments. My whole life here: everything I have and everything I do. I want to give it to you so I can leave."
"What the hell are you —"
"Just shut up and let me finish." He struck the water with his paddle and a sound like gunshot flattened out in Nathan's ear. "I want you to take over the real estate company. In the beginning you'll just fill in for me as I travel to California ostensibly for business. A few weeks should be enough for me to set myself up with an opportunity." He cursed himself again before going on. This time when he spoke his voice was gentle, even contrite. "And I want you to take care of my family. Until things are back to normal for them, become the husband and father I couldn't be."
"Are you crazy? I can't do that."
"Yes, you can. Huong thinks you're a better person than me. My kids are nuts about you. Even Huong's parents talk to you when you're around. And I know the feeling's mutual. I know you're fond of them."
Nathan shook his head. "You can't do this. They're your family." For the next few minutes he enumerated the reasons why Anthony couldn't go through with this. Getting divorced would be more responsible, at least, than just running out on his family. It was a cowardly choice, and Anthony was wrong to think that Nathan could simply step into the void he'd create by leaving. Nathan wasn't ready to be a husband, much less a father. But Anthony, after listening to him with a strange calm, smiled and said he was wrong.
"I trust you, Nathan. You're a good person. You're not like the rest of the people I know here. If I hadn't thought you were staying in Ohio six years ago, I wouldn't have gone after Huong, and you might have married her when you got back. It's not a stretch to think that. And my kids could easily be yours. You'd be a better husband to Huong and a better father to Anh and Hao than me."
"I have no feelings for her anymore. And besides, I'm building a future with Le."
Anthony ignored this. "We all need second chances in life. I'm taking mine at the same time I'm giving you yours. It's perfect for us both."
Nathan was angered by Anthony's patronization, but not nearly as much as by his recklessness. The notion of second chances stuck in his mind. He dwelled on this, on the second chance Anthony had given him, and on the second chance he and Le now had, until a new thought pushed against it. Nathan realized that he'd always been at the heart of Anthony's plan to leave.
"You've been planning this all along, haven't you? This is why you wanted me to work for you. This is why you took me back so quickly after Le and I broke up. It was all a set-up."
"Not at first. The idea came to me over time, after I'd already tried getting you here."
Nathan turned just enough to look at him. The position hurt his neck but there was something he needed to see. "I can't do this and you know it."
"Yes, you can. I told you, you'll take over the agency first. Do it for one or two months. That'll be long enough for me to register a new business and transfer some money. After that, maybe we can even go into business together. I'll be your contact in the States and you'll be mine here. If you don't like it, you can cash out and do your own thing. If I can afford to, I'll even forgive your debt."
"There's no way I'm doing this. No fucking way. And you can't either. You'll ruin their lives."
"Listen to me. We'll work together. It won't be nearly as demanding as real estate."
"This is a huge bomb you're dropping on me."
"I'm doing it. I've already looked into it. My contacts here are solid and with Vietnam's entry into the World Trade Organization the sky's the limit. I'm going to do it." Hypnotized by the sound of his dreams, his face was glazed over from the exertion of a sustained, forced enthusiasm.
Anthony's phone rang. He removed it from his pants but didn't answer it.
"Was that Huong?" Nathan said when it was quiet again.
"Huong never calls me. That was about work." Anthony laughed bitterly. "I should be happy I get these calls every morning. But sometimes that sound is like a prison warden ringing his bell, calling me out of my hole to spend another day chipping away at what life I have left." He stared at his phone like he was holding something dead but couldn't imagine why. He raised his head and looked out over the water.
"But the early calls aren't so bad." Anthony laughed without heart. "It's better than the routine I had in Saigon, isn't it? Sometimes I'm not sure, but if I tell myself enough that it's true I almost start to believe it." He put his phone back in his pocket. "I have to get back now."
"But it's Sunday."
"It doesn't matter."
They dumped the ice from their glasses into the lake and started back for shore.
When they arrived, the crowd of children was gone. Anthony gestured for the old woman to hurry down.
As she descended the dirt slope, holding her pants at the knees, Anthony dug out his wallet.
"I don't have change. And I bet she can't break this." He held up a 50,000 note. "What do you have on you?"
But when Nathan tried to remove his wallet the boat began to rock and this time it was Anthony who lurched for the sides to keep his balance. "Forget it. I'll just give her the fifty."
"What do we owe you?" Nathan asked when the wom
an made it down.
"Six thousand."
Anthony tapped his arm. "Give her this. Ask if she can break it."
The woman leaned forward, balancing herself with one hand against her thigh, and reached first for the two glasses, then for the crisp pink note Nathan held out. She took the money and looked at it like she didn't want it.
"This is too big," she said. "Don't you have something smaller?"
Nathan spoke over his shoulder: "You're right, she doesn't have change." He tried again to pull out his wallet but Anthony stopped him.
"Just give it to her. We made her come all the way down."
With both hands Nathan waved away the money.
The old woman appeared about to say something, but Anthony had already placed the end of his paddle against the lake bottom and pushed them away from shore.
Twenty-Four
Anthony didn't show up at work on Monday and, on Tuesday, he messaged that he'd be late, only for Huong to call after lunch to say he wouldn't come in at all. His absence placed additional stress on the office, as an important meeting with the Ministry of Property and Investment was slated for early the following week. There had been disagreements between the Ministry and the Hanoi People's Committee over the granting of a sublease license. None of the staff was clear about what the agency's role had been throughout the granting process, and Anthony was needed to provide information and smooth things out. The situation wasn't one that Nathan, or anyone else in the office, could handle.
On Wednesday Nathan broke his morning routine of visiting Le and arrived at work early. Xuan was already there, preparing tea beside her workstation.
"Good morning, Nathan. You're early."
"I don't have a choice. Did you call Anthony yesterday like I asked?" Nathan had called several times himself, but no one answered.
"I did, but his wife just said he was sick."
"Have you checked the messages?"
"Not yet. It's too early."
"Too early for what? The light's flashing, see?" He pressed the play button.
Unless the caller phoned at dawn, the message had been left late at night. As the tape rewound, he poured himself tea.
"Nathan . . ." The female voice was familiar. He was left to figure out it was Huong, for she went on without introducing herself. "I don't know where to begin."
Nathan set his cup down and came closer to the machine.
"Anthony had a stroke last night, shortly after dinner."
Nathan felt something twist off inside him, and he leaned against Xuan's desk, his breath caught in his lungs.
"There was a lot of bleeding in his brain, and the doctors are uncertain about when he'll . . ." In the background, Anh and Hao were pleading for candy. She stopped speaking to shush them. "He's at a hospital near our house, but it's Vietnamese and they aren't equipped to deal with him. They'll transfer him to Bach Mai in the morning. After that the doctors will decide when he can have visitors.
"You can call me if you want, but I don't know anything more than what I've told you. The doctor says there's nothing I can do right now, and I should just go about things normally until he tells me otherwise. Tomorrow I have errands to do, but I'll be back in the late afternoon. You can leave a message with our housekeeper if you need anything. Anyway, I thought you should know."
The last comment made Nathan laugh despite himself. But his laugh was abrupt. The gravity of Anthony's condition pushed hard at him. The message ended and the red light faded away.
"Why the hell did she take him to a local hospital?" he asked Xuan. "What's she doing, trying to keep him from getting good medical care?"
Xuan was in tears and didn't answer. The rest of the staff, as they trickled into the office, reacted similarly to the news.
Nathan didn't know what to do. Someone suggested starting a collection for Anthony's family. After everyone chipped in 50,000 dong Xuan presented Nathan a small brick of bills. She'd tied the money with rubber bands and put it in a plastic bag.
Several of the staff began conferring on what to do with the money, and Nathan, at a loss how to contribute to the discussion, retreated into his office.
For the next hour he tried to reach Huong but couldn't get through. He was going to call Anthony's number, but something didn't feel right about it and he decided to try to get hold of her later.
By 9:30 the office was a shambles. With little hope of getting any work done, Nathan sent everyone home.
He stood in the doorway of Anthony's office, rooted with worry and fear. All Anthony's work now lay in his charge, and everything had suddenly become Nathan's to learn and wield like a leader. He stared at the bookshelves lined with files and notebooks; the full desk with papers piled atop his inbox; the computer to which Nathan had never been given a password. He tried to think of someone else among the staff who could take Anthony's place, but promoting someone above himself would be an admission of his own fraudulence. Whoever he chose would still receive only a fraction of his salary, and they could never replace the American face and tongue so important to the company's clients.
No matter how obligated he felt to Anthony, especially now that Anthony was incapacitated, the last thing Nathan wanted was to take over the company.
He walked behind Anthony's desk, his eye catching the photo of Huong and their children. He found it curious that Anthony wasn't in the photo, and wondered if Anthony had deliberately chosen one that didn't include him. But it was a cynical thought, more so given the circumstances.
Their kayak outing a few days ago sparked in his memory, and he remembered Anthony confessing his dream of leaving Vietnam and abandoning everything he had. A sinking feeling spread through him at what else he'd said: Part of me just wants to disappear, in some place big and empty where no one will ever bother me again.
A vinyl scheduler lay open on Anthony's desk. He scanned the meetings and deadlines penciled in. Anthony's writing was tiny and cramped and Nathan had to strain his eyes to read it. The 15th had been circled what seemed a hundred times, and beneath it, in the only red pen on the page — as if Anthony had written it before anything else — was the entry: 9 yrs in VN. There was nothing beneath the entry, or elsewhere that week, that showed he planned to celebrate.
Nathan set the scheduler atop Anthony's inbox and carried them into his office.
He'd given little thought to his trip to Saigon. With Anthony out of commission the trip became almost unsupportable. Had Anthony never suffered a stroke, taking a day or two off would have posed no problem. Unwilling at first though he'd been, Anthony had given Nathan his blessing.
He felt guilty leaving Hanoi when Anthony was laid up in a hospital and the company had no one to lead it. But it was only for one day, and he was going there to work, not holiday. Though concerned that problems would arise in his absence, he was confident he could deal with them when he returned.
He left Xuan a note, explaining that he wouldn't be in the office tomorrow and to call him only in case of an emergency. "Work forced me to fly to Saigon tonight," he scribbled. "I'll be back in twenty-four hours."
Going outside to get his motorbike, a weight lifted off him like some creature that had been riding his shoulders. But the reprieve was fleeting, for the seriousness of Anthony's condition, and a realization of the struggle that lay before him — perhaps even the chance of his dying — consumed Nathan as he drove past the guard and the black waters of West Lake came into view.
He pulled up to the tree in front of Anthony's yard and parked. No one answered the doorbell when he rang. And when he looked for Binh, the gardener, he was nowhere to be found. Had Huong sent her workers home? Or had they left on their own, aware that Huong wouldn't be around to manage them? Surely they didn't go with her to the hospital.
Nathan made his way back to his motorbike and stared up at the house. More than ever, it appeared too large for the small
rise of land on which it stood. Four storeys high, and taller than the surrounding trees, the house would have fit better in Beverly Hills. Nathan stood dumbfounded thinking of the transformation Anthony's life had undergone in Hanoi. With all his success, how had things gone so wrong?
He drove off looking over his shoulder for some sign of life that he'd missed.
Approaching Ngu Xa Street, he hesitated to turn onto Truc Bach Island. A tugging inside him urged him to travel around West Lake. He wanted to visit Le and tell her about Anthony's stroke. Was it that he needed to talk about it, or did he find such comfort in her that nothing else would do?
He found her in her front garden. White orchids in straw pots rested in furrows she'd dug with a spade. Dirt smeared her chin, while both her hands were covered with it.
She lifted her conical hat as he came up next to her and squatted down. The soft, dug-up earth sank beneath his weight.
"Why aren't you at work?" she said, looking at him in surprise.
"I sent everyone home."
She searched his face, waiting for him to explain. When he did, she reached over and squeezed his arm. Dirt came off on his shirtsleeve and she tried to brush it away. "What do you think will happen?"
"I don't know. And I have to go to Saigon tonight, which is obviously harder to do now."
She turned to her unplanted flowers. "But he's your friend. What if something happens?"
"What if what happens? You mean if he dies?"
She scraped the dirt off her spade with her fingers. "Yes."
"There's nothing I can do." What he said sounded strange to him, but he didn't dwell on it. "I'll only be gone one day, and I've asked Xuan to call me if there's an emergency."
Deep in the furrow Le had dug, two worms jerked back and forth. Rather than having two rounded ends to their bodies they only had one — at opposite ends. Realizing that she'd sliced through the worm's body, he looked away uneasily.