The Beauty of Humanity Movement (91 page)

At that moment, Ph
ng jumps down from the bridge above, waving his arms, shaking the keys to the van. He’s brought the company vehicle so that Bình can take the motorbike to work. Maggie and T
have to move now—Ph
ng has left the van parked on the bridge above.

T
drains and rinses their bowls, shoves them into a plastic bag, then climbs up the bank and hops into the van. T
has his face plastered to the glass as he watches Maggie saying a long goodbye to his father. Bình is unusually expressive, his fingers moving in the air like they are folding origami.

T
taps his fingernails against the glass impatiently.

“You shouldn’t get so involved with foreigners,” says Ph
ng. “I’m a tour guide, Ph
ng; it’s in the job description. Besides, she has a deeper connection to this country than you know.”

Ph
ng snorts.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Miss Maggie steps inside the van just then and Ph
ng immediately hits play on the CD player.

“This is Ph
ng’s music,” T
says in English. “What do you think?”

“It’s not really the kind of music I listen to normally,” she says, “but the beat, it’s kind of infectious.”

The booming bass accompanies them all the way to the Metropole. So does the delicate floral scent of Maggie’s perfume, which floats above the mint of the Happy Toothpaste air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror and causes T
s nostrils to flare.