Out of the Dragon's Mouth (5 page)

Seven

Mai walked in Hiep's shadow down the hot sand beach, wading in the water's edge to cool her feet. As they rounded a bend, Hiep stopped. In front of them was the ocean, cutting a wide swath through the island and blocking their way. Mai froze. Hiep hadn't told her about this.

“What do we do now?” she called over the water's roar. A row of black slippery rocks formed a path across the water, but she knew she could never navigate it.

“Come on, it's easy. Just follow me. Hold my hand and we'll cross the rocks together. It's not that deep.”

“I can't. I'll slip.”

“Mai, you crossed an entire ocean. You can cross this. Here, hold on.”

Mai knew she couldn't turn back now, not after the way she'd spoken to Small Auntie. She had no choice. Once again she was without a home, on her way to a new one, and once again she felt unwanted and pushed out. Tears gathered in her eyes and her whole being filled with a sadness she could not suppress. She just wanted to feel special to someone. Even Hiep had left her for his new friends.

He stepped out on one of the rocks and Mai grabbed his hand. She placed her foot on top of the first rock. Her toes gripped tightly into her dép. Hiep called to her to step to the next rock, but her legs wouldn't move. A wave came in and washed over her feet. She screamed.

“Come on, Mai, don't stand there.”

Clinging tightly to Hiep's hand, Mai made it to the next rock.

“That's it. Come on, keep going,” he coaxed.

Slowly she made her way across the swirling water, but just as she stepped to the last rock, Hiep's hand slipped out of hers and she started to fall, teetering on the edge until she found her balance and jumped to shore, where she sank down into the sand. Hiep stood, his head cocked to one side, his hands on his slim hips, chuckling.

“You did it. It's easy once you get used to it.”

Mai didn't laugh. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she thought of Small Auntie and the humiliation of being asked to leave. Or was she crying because she was on an island somewhere in the middle of the sea, far away from her home and family, all alone, except for an uncle who was now laughing at her? She cried for the life in Vietnam that had been taken from her, for her childhood, for the unknown life awaiting her. And she cried because she'd stubbed her toe and it was bleeding. She'd had so many tears inside her. It felt good to let them out.

Hiep stopped laughing when he heard Mai's sobs.

“Mai, don't cry. You'll like it where we're going. Come on, get up.”

Mai straightened her arm, bracing herself to stand. She wiped her sandy hands on her pants and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Hiep was the only one she would ever let see her cry. She would not cry again.

“I'll be all right. I just stubbed my toe.”

Hiep led the way down to a palm tree-lined strip of beach surrounded on one side by towering mountains and on the other by clear blue water and coral reefs. A row of brown tarps suspended by tent poles ran like a ribbon through the white sand. A group of young women squatted around a cooking fire, talking, their voices muffled by the sound of the waves. As Hiep and Mai approached, one of the women rose and smiled at Hiep.

“You've come,” she said, her eyes cast down, her black hair cascading over her face, a small black mole resting on one of her round, freckled cheeks. Her voice was soft and lilting, and reminded Mai of her sister Tuyet.

Hiep flushed with embarrassment, but, remembering his manners, he said, “Lan, this is my niece, Mai.”

“We're so glad you're here. Follow me and I'll show you your hammocks.” Lan folded her hands together and bowed. “This is our space. Six of us live here together and help each other.”

Mai looked around and saw rice bag hammocks hanging between the tent poles.

“Those hammocks belong to my sister and me. Her name is Ngoc. And the other two belong to Kim and her brother, Tuan. You'll meet them all later. And these are for you. The Phams left yesterday for America.”

Lan pointed to two hammocks in the corner. Mai was relieved to see that someone had sewn several rice bags together and draped them in front of the hammocks for privacy.

America. Mai felt her skin tingle. When would they get to go? Would there be a lot of food in America? Would she have friends? Whatever it was like, she knew that it had to be better than living under the Communists. Children spying on their parents, reporting their disloyalty. She could never have done that. In America, she would have a whole room of books to read and she could go to school every day. Maybe sleeping in the Phams' hammocks would bring them good luck. Perhaps they would be the next to leave.

Mai thanked Lan and reached up and placed her small bundle in the top hammock. “I'll take the top one since I'm smaller,” she told Hiep.

He laughed. “Don't fall on me.”

“Have you eaten?” Lan asked.

“Small Auntie fed us before we left,” Hiep replied. “But I didn't want to eat with her.”

Mai frowned at him. Even though Small Auntie had treated them badly, she didn't want to say anything against her. After all, she was family.

“Mai, you stay with Lan and she'll show you what to do. I have to get back to my job at the well. See you at dinner.” Hiep smiled at Lan.

Mai stood silently and watched him walk up the beach. She worried about him at the wells, although he had assured her that he was very careful and took no chances. He was all she had here, and she did not want to lose him.

Water had become a big problem on the island. The ship from the mainland had to bring fresh water daily, but with more refugees landing every week, drinking water had been rationed to a half bucket a day for each person, collected in a precious bucket used also for washing dishes and clothes.

“How old are you, Mai?” Lan brushed a fly from her forehead.

“Fourteen.”

“Just the age of my little sister. She left Vietnam with my mother and father after I left. I haven't seen her for a year.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Oh, yes. I used to take care of her when my mother was working in the rice fields. She had the biggest smile, but I have my older sister, Ngoc, with me. You'll meet her later. You'll like her.”

“I left all of my family too. Uncle Hiep and I came alone.” Mai felt her chin quiver. “I can't even remember what they look like any more.”

At night, lying on the deck of Small Auntie's boat, she'd tried to close her eyes and picture her mother and her father as they'd been the morning she left, but their features blurred like melted wax and the more she concentrated, the more distorted they became. Only Loc's face came through to her—sitting at the table that last night, his eyes bright with fever, as Mai learned that she would go in his place. Lucky Loc, at home with the whole family, while Mai was all alone. Did they think of her? Did they miss her as much as she missed them?

“Well, we'll be family now.” Lan interrupted her thoughts. “Here, it's time to go line up for food. Come on.”

Mai followed Lan out of the tent and back down the beach. Family. That's what Small Auntie had said at first, but she hadn't meant it. She would wait and get to know Lan before she trusted her.

Oh, no
, M
ai thought. She was going to have to cross the water again.
Lan reached for her hand as they walked along, and Mai remembered walking with Tuyet, hand-in-hand down to their river. She was happy to have someone to walk with again like this. When they got to the rocks, Lan grasped her hand as they crossed and Mai felt a little braver.

She saw Minh when they got to the food lines. He was tracing letters in the sand with his toe. He did not look her way even when she called to him. She lined up with Lan and watched Minh collect his food and walk away, ignoring her. She would give him time. By tomorrow, maybe his anger would be gone.

Suddenly a woman came running down the beach, shouting. Small Auntie. She ran to Minh, crying. Then Minh was crying too. Mai wanted to rush over to them, but she stopped herself.

“Who's that?” Lan asked.

“That's Small Auntie and her son, who we were living with before.”

Other people began gathering around them. Two soldiers guarding the food lines approached. At night the soldiers prowled around the encampment, beating people and stealing from them. Now they ordered the crowd back in line, while Small Auntie and Minh continued their crying.

“What happened?” Mai asked a teenage boy who'd re-
turned to the line.

“Her husband was in an accident.”

“What kind of an accident?”

“He was digging a well. It caved in.”

“Is he all right?”

“I don't think so. They're trying to dig him out. They haven't found him yet.”

Mai turned to Lan. “I have to go.” Poor Minh. She had to talk to him.

“You go. I'll stay and get our food.”

“Thanks.” Mai handed her the food tickets and then approached Minh and Small Auntie, but they had started trotting down the beach. She had to run to catch up with them. “Minh, Small Auntie. Wait.”

Small Auntie turned her head briefly but didn't slow down. Mai followed them to the path that led to Nam Dao, the end of the island where she now lived. She watched them cross the rocks, and then she followed. This time the water was down and the crossing was easier.

Down the beach, she saw a clearing at the edge of the jungle. Small Auntie pushed through the group of men surrounding the well and started to wail. Mai saw Hiep, down on his hands and knees in the sand with two other men, digging with a desperate determination.

“What happened?” Mai asked.

Next to her a gaunt young man, sweat beading on his bare chest, replied, “The sides caved in. We were down to thirty meters. Almost had water. Too bad.” He shrugged and nodded toward the well. “He's not the first to die.”

“Are you sure he's dead?” To have come so far across the ocean and to die like this was not fair, thought Mai.

“Well, if he isn't, he will be when they get him out. It's a long way down there.” The man wiped his brow with the back of his hand and stared grim-faced at the well site.

Mai watched as Hiep and the men continued digging. She edged over toward Minh and put her arm around him. “They'll get him out, I know they will.”

Minh looked at her with tear-pooled eyes and moved closer.

Hiep and the other men dug for several hours, their faces dripping, the sun blazing on their backs. They gulped water, but even then their hands kept moving as Small Auntie paced up and down on her short stubby legs, a glazed look in her eyes, encircled by family. Mai tried to approach her, but she wailed, continued her pacing, and would not be consoled. Mai picked up Nhu and held her in her arms. Nhu closed her arms around her neck and put her head on her shoulder, letting out a small whimper, a bewildered look on her little face.

When the sun stood high in the sky, Mai looked over at the well and saw Hiep and the other men standing up, brushing sand off their hands, slumping in despair. Small Auntie threw herself on the ground, wailing louder. Mai circled her arms around Minh's trembling shoulders, and then Nhu, distraught by the sight of her mother and brother crying, began to wail. Huong and Diep joined in the chorus, and the beach rang with their sounds of sorrow.

Mai was relieved that Hiep had not been the one buried in the well. She had not known Uncle Sang very well. He came and went, working late and returning to the boat in time to eat and go to sleep; he was a somber man who'd rarely spoken to her. She felt no pity for Small Auntie, whose wails were probably for herself and the hard life she would have without a husband. But Uncle Sang was a father, and now Minh and his sisters had no father. Mai knew how that felt.

She remembered the day the Communists had come and taken her father away.

Saigon had fallen, the Americans had left, and the soldiers had come to their village before her family had been able to go into hiding. Father, Grandfather, and her uncles had been sent to a re-education camp. She and her mother, along with the children, had been driven deep into the jungle and left to die. And they would have died if it hadn't been for a poor farmer who'd let them live in his barn and taught them how to fish and catch rain water for drinking.

She would never forget the morning almost six weeks later when she saw her father coming through the barn door. “
Cha
,” she'd shouted, calling for him, running to him. He had rescued them, and that's when they'd gone into hiding at
Ô
ng Ngoai's textile mill. How happy she was that Grandfather and her uncles had been freed too, and that they would be coming to hide with them. A well-placed bribe to the authorities from Grandfather had been their salvation.

Small Auntie turned from the well. “It's your fault,” she yelled, shaking her fist at Hiep. “He went down there and took your place. You are the one who should have died. What will I do without a husband? What will they do without a father?”

She sprang at Mai and grabbed Nhu from her arms. “And you, you ungrateful girl. I should never have taken you in. You brought bad luck to our family.”

Mai's lips wouldn't move. Her brain blurred. Small Auntie's sister-in-law came between them and wrapped her arms around Small Auntie, pulling her away from Mai. Small Auntie struggled for a moment, but then, exhausted, allowed them to lead her away. Turning from the crowd, Mai ran down the beach in the opposite direction.

“Mai, wait. Wait for me.” Hiep followed her, but Mai didn't stop running until she came to her tent. Hiep caught up with her as she sprawled in the sand, gasping. He knelt beside her.

“Why did she say that? She knows it's not true.” Mai's eyes searched Hiep's face for an answer.