The Beauty of Humanity Movement (103 page)

“What are you doing with this?” T
asks, flipping through the pages. There is nothing but songs in praise of agricultural productivity, the Party, the workers, Stalin, H
Chí Minh, the revolution.

“Research,” Ph
ng says. “What’s it to you?”

“Are you pissed off with me for some reason?”

“How could I be?” says Ph
ng, throwing half a glass of beer down his throat. He burps and slams his glass down. “I barely see you anymore.”

“Hey. You’re the one who spent a week in bed.”

Ph
ng’s nostrils flare. He holds up his empty glass and flags the waiter. “You’re the one who’s lusting for the Vi
t Ki’êu,” he says out of the corner of his mouth.

“What are you talking about?”

Ph
ng rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to his book.

Okay, yes, maybe T
has pictured Maggie naked once (okay, more than once), but what man doesn’t imagine a woman naked? Surely Ph
ng was doing exactly that when he looked Miss Maggie’s entire body up and down in the hotel lobby the day T
introduced them. Why does Ph
ng have to cheapen it?

“She’s my friend, Ph
ng,” T
says, anger hardening his jaw.

He knows it sounds strange:
friend
. It’s not a word often used between men and women, but T
doesn’t know how else to describe this new relationship. He doesn’t care what Ph
ng thinks. He will prove himself worthy of Maggie’s friendship. And if she happens to fall completely in love with him in the process and say,
You are the hero of my life
? Well, it wouldn’t be his fault then, would it? He could turn to Ph
ng and say,
I’m afraid you are mistaken. It is not me lusting for Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie is lusting for me
.