Beauty Rising (23 page)

“Ah,” I hemmed and hawed around. “Well, okay I guess.”

“Martin, do you have to work today?”

“No, I took the day off.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I just wanted to be available to help you. I just came to help you.”

She smiled.

“You’ve been a big help already.”

“I want to be a bigger help. I want to,” I then realized how foolish I must have sounded. I needed to back down some. “So, what is it that you need to do?”

“I just have to figure out what my new life will be like.”

I knew what I wanted her new life to be like. I wanted us to be together. But I could never say anything like that. Deep in my heart, I knew this could never be – not someone like her with someone like me – but hope doesn’t stop at plausible possibilities. It plows through unchartered territory. Hope builds a home at the highest peak and then watches to see if it will come to fruition. I couldn’t dare let on what I had in my heart. I sat in a chair and she sat across from me on the couch. We were silent for a few moments.

“I had a fight with my Mom this morning.”

“Really? What happened?”

“You know that flower? The Phuong flower?”

She nodded.

“Well, she burnt it, and it made me really mad.”

“Why did she burn it?”

“That’s what she does. She destroys things. That was my only souvenir from Vietnam, and now it’s gone.”

There was a long pause of silence. We both started talking at the same time.

“You go,” I said.

“No, what were you going to say?”

“My taxi driver, Tan, he said that that flower represented the Vietnamese woman that I didn’t meet because I didn’t have any money.”

I laughed to myself, and she looked over at me with a sweet smile.

“Because of that mean person who stole your wallet?”

“That’s right. He said no Vietnamese girl for me because I was broke.”

“Well,” she said in a flirtatious manner. “There is still one Phuong in your life.”

She smiled at me again. I must have turned beat red at that remark. I had no idea how to interpret it, or what it really meant. A Phuong in my life. What did that mean? If hope had been sitting at the earth’s highest peak, it had just hitched a ride on a rocket to the upper stratosphere. I had to change the subject. If I was misinterpreting her banter, I didn’t want to know about it. At least not now.

“So I know that Phuong means flower . . .”

“Phuong,” she repeated emphasizing the heavy tone.

“Phuong. Sorry. So what does
My
mean?”

“Well,
My
means aesthetic. It comes from the Chinese character Mei.”

“Aesthetic?” I looked at her blankly.

“Yes, like beauty or beautiful,” she clarified.

“Beautiful,” I repeated.

She paused for a second.

“But that is not the only meaning, do you know that
My
also means American?”

“No, really? Your name means American?”

“Yes, it’s true. Beautiful and American are the same word.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, I heard the story that Vietnamese always liked the American flag and thought it looked very beautiful. And actually, the stars look like flowers. A field of flowers. Beautiful Americans.”

She laughed.

“Americans can be pretty ugly too,” I said with a smile.

“No, I like Americans.”

“No, don’t say that. That’s what my taxi driver Tan would say. ‘Americans are fat. Hey, Martin, why don’t you wear short pants? Because you too fat? Right? But don’t worry, I like Americans.’”

We both laughed out loud. It was the most fun I had in a long time, or at least since last evening – Day One. Perhaps it was the most fun I ever had. I wanted to bottle this moment and keep it forever. I couldn’t even breathe. She just sat there so beautiful, so kind, and so easy to talk to.

“And Phuong means flower. So your name means beautiful flower.”

“Or American flower,” she said, with a hint of devil’s play.

“That’s right. Or how about ‘Beautiful American flower’?”

She laughed again.

“Yes, but you know Phuong has another meaning as well.”

“What’s that?”

“Phoenix.”

“Huh?”

“Phoenix.”

“Like the city? Phoenix, Arizona?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s the same as that, but it means the bird. Phoenix the bird.”

I had a blank stare on my face.

“Phoenix is a bird in ancient mythology that at the end of its life burns up, but then out of the ashes rises another Phoenix bird.”

I really didn’t learn much in school. I realized that.

“So your name means ‘Beauty rising out of the ashes’?”

Beauty rising. There were no other words to describe her life or my feelings. I marveled at this beautiful creature sitting beside me. It was too good to be true. Now I knew how my dad felt under the banana trees. A war zone all around and a piece of heaven suddenly comes into your life.

We chatted in a light-hearted manner until around noon when Reverend Fox came to invite us for a light lunch at his house. I ate very carefully and very little. I wanted to lose weight like I never wanted to before. Perhaps if I was thinner she would be attracted to me. I would do anything for her. I would never eat again if she asked me. Reverend Fox gave her some advice about possibly finding a job in the area. She seemed very open to the possibility, and I told her that I could help her that afternoon look around at some possibilities.

On Day Three, I called off work again and took My Phuong around Butler applying for various jobs at restaurants and retail stores. On Day Four, I took My Phuong for a second round of applications, and then we ended up having a picnic lunch at Moraine State Park in the afternoon. On Day Five, I told my manager Mr. Hutchins that I had pneumonia and might be out for a while. I spent the day re-canvassing retail shops on Main Street in Butler. I took her out for dinner at Natilli’s where she ordered spaghetti and a bottle of wine of which she drank the whole thing. On the way home, she was quite drunk, and I helped her up the steps and put a blanket on her as she lay down on the couch. She drifted off to sleep in a drunken slumber, and I watched her for several minutes. I could have sat and pondered her beauty all night, but I knew it was not right. I wrote a note for her and placed it on the end table by the couch. ‘You are sleeping peacefully. It looks like the wine did you in for the night. I hope you have sweet dreams. See you in the morning. Martin.’ I debated for a long time whether to add the word ‘love’ or not. Eventually, I decided that I couldn’t do it.

I slept horribly that night thinking constantly of her sleeping peacefully on her couch. I had the terrible feeling that everything I was doing would only end in more heartbreak, but I had no other options. I would do anything for her, and if I ended up getting hurt, well, at least I still had Day One and Day Two and Day Three and . . .

On Day Six, I didn’t even call in sick. They expected me to be out for a few more days. I wondered if I would ever go back to work. Mom would yell at me every morning and threaten to call K-Mart and tell them that I played hooky. But she never did. So on Day Six, I arrived at My Phuong’s apartment around 9:30. She was cooking in the kitchen when I knocked on the front door.

“Martin, come in,” she said enthusiastically. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“You are making me breakfast?”

“Yes. I have eggs, and I walked down to 7-11 and got a package of sausage. I hope you like it. Oh, and I have some orange juice and toast.”

She was an angel from God. I was sure of it.

She talked non-stop as she made my breakfast. I marveled at every word she said and at ever movement she made.

“Eat!”

“It looks delicious.”

“Eat. And if you don’t eat a lot, I’ll be very offended. Vietnamese people believe that if guests don’t eat much, they don’t like the food. So I hope you like it.”

“It looks wonderful.”

“So prove it,” she said with a smirk on her face.

I did. I ate four eggs, five pieces of toast, twelve sausages, and three glasses of orange juice. I couldn’t help myself. I ate like I never ate before. She sat across from me and kept encouraging me to eat more and more. I finished my plate and she added more onto it. Finally, she ran out of food and fretted that I didn’t have enough. I told her I was never so full in my life and it was the best breakfast ever. She smiled at me again.

“All week, you haven’t been eating very much. I’m worried that you are losing weight,” she said. “Have you been afraid to eat around me?”

I put my head down slightly and nodded.

“Why?”

I just shook my head and smiled, but I refused to say anything.

“Why?” she persisted.

“I . . .”

“Why Martin?”

“I’ve been trying to lose weight.”

“Why are you trying to lose weight?”

I didn’t say anything again.

“Martin, tell me. Why have you been trying to lose weight?”

This was the moment I had been trying to avoid all week. I didn’t want to come clean with my true feelings because I felt that everything would come to an end.

“Martin. Why have you been trying to lose weight? And Martin, why haven’t you gone to work at all this week?”

I looked down at the ground for a few seconds, and then I turned back into her face.

“I haven’t gone to work this week so that I could spend time with you.”

“But you could spend time after work, right?”

“I’m afraid if I go to work, then you will be gone.”

She turned away from me for a minute and then persisted in her questioning.

“And the eating? Why haven’t you been eating this week?”

I hesitated for a long time and then looked back at her again.

“I thought that if I could lose some weight, that maybe you could be attracted to me. That maybe you could look at me as . . .” I stopped and looked down at the floor.

She reached over and touched my cheek and lifted my head so that we were eye-to-eye.

“Martin, you have been the kindest, sweetest person I have ever met. What would I have done without you? You have helped me so much. And Martin, I’m sorry I got drunk last night. Sometimes getting drunk is just my way of forgetting all the problems that I have in my life. But I woke up in the morning, and I realized that you tucked me in. You tucked me in. I have never had anyone tuck me in since I was a child living with my parents.”

She turned away from me for a second and then turned back. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“And you didn’t take advantage of me. You had every chance in the world to do whatever you wanted with me last night, but you are the first man to ever treat me with respect. I don’t know how I could ever thank you.”

I started crying as well.

“My Phuong. I know I’m fat, and I’m ugly. I’m not attractive, not like you.”