The Reeducation of Cherry Truong (24 page)

“Such an idiot,” Linh said, after they returned inside, interrupting the boys' round of cards and reporting on Dat's latest awkward intrusion.

“He's not that bad,” Quynh said.

“You can only believe that if you're not related to him,” Linh seethed. While Quynh and Cherry sat on the couch, she stretched herself out on the floor, her hair fanned across the carpet, making sure Huy could see the exposed belly between her gray tank top and jeans. Her cheeks were pink, and Cherry wasn't sure if it was from the multiple shots of Crown she reeked of, or genuine anger.

“Well, he's not worth our breath,” Lum said, still concentrating on his cards.

“You remember that time when we were little and he narced on you at Grandmother's birthday party?” Linh asked.

“Linh,” Cherry groaned.

“What? We were all there.”

“Then we've all heard it before,” Lum said.

“Not about what Uncle Chinh did after,” Linh teased.

“What happened?” Huy said.

“See?” Linh said, smirking. Cherry looked away, trying not to cringe. She shouldn't have bothered. Once her cousin seized the attention of a room, nothing could shut her mouth.

“So Dat lies about Lum hitting him,” Linh continued, “and Lum gets spanked, right? But what you didn't know was later that night, when Dat and his family got home, Uncle Chinh started screaming at him for being such a wimp. Like he should have defended himself against Lum, though we all know that could never happen. Next time we see him? He's got a black eye. Won't say where he got it, but we all know. His father was trying to teach him how to fight.”

She began to laugh. No one joined her. Cherry watched her cousin's face flush a deeper shade of red as she hooted at the popcorn ceiling, nearly hysterical with tears. She wondered again how people could find Linh attractive. Yes, she was skinny. Yes, she had shiny, long hair. But the second she began speaking, the illusion of anything delicate, anything beautiful, shattered. At that moment, Cherry couldn't imagine anyone, or anything else, uglier than her.

*   *   *

The house had been dusted and swept, with day-old floral arrangements prominently displayed in each room. Clusters of blue and yellow balloons bobbed along the stair banisters. As the birthday boy, Lum wore the light-blue button-down shirt their mother had picked out the previous weekend, and he allowed her to usher him from room to room for a not-so-spontaneous circuit of chitchat.

While their father was responsible for replenishing the buffet table, Cherry answered the front door and refreshed guests' drinks. Most of the guests arrived on time and the dishes her mother and aunties had prepared were warm and savory. Every time she passed Grandmother Vo, she'd ask if Cherry knew Dat's whereabouts.

“Maybe he's not coming,” Cherry finally said, picking up her barely touched papaya salad. “Maybe he had to study.”

Grandmother impatiently shook her head, like she'd given the wrong answer. “Your cousin would never disregard a family function.”

When Cherry approached Lum and their mother, they were talking with the Ngos, a couple who had recently opened a dentistry practice in the old mini-mall complex where their mom used to work. When Cherry approached them, Mr. Ngo was explaining what an easy work schedule he had with his own practice.

“If I am tired and I need the morning off, I know she can help me out,” Mr. Ngo said, affectionately squeezing his wife's shoulder. “Working with family has many benefits.”

“Dentistry school is not too long, is it?” their mother asked.

“It's four years, just like medical school,” Cherry said.

Her mother shot Cherry an exasperated look. “But not as difficult, right?” she asked, oblivious to her offense. “Cherry is book smart, but Lum? More like me, more practical smart. Learns quick on his feet through experience.”

“You still need to pass the exams,” Mrs. Ngo said.

“Lum always had such nice teeth. I never had to remind him to brush and floss every day, not like his sister. Show them your teeth, sweetie.”

Lum offered up a demonstration, and Mrs. Ngo complimented his bite, which their mother gloated never needed to be corrected with braces.

The front door opened and Dat stepped in. Instead of greeting them, he walked directly to the dining room where his parents were getting second helpings at the buffet. After Dat whispered in their ears, Auntie Hien screamed, while Uncle Chinh's face widened into a rare smile. Conversations around the house quieted, as all curious gazes fixated on Dat.

“What's wrong?” Grandmother demanded from across the room.

Auntie Hien could barely stand still, clapping her hands like a little girl. “Tell them, darling.”

Dat looked around the room, his chin nearly raised to the ceiling. The chandelier above him glittered like a crown on his head. “I won a research fellowship at the National Institutes of Health for the summer.”

“In Washington, D.C.,” Uncle Chinh broke in. “They only select one student from UCI each year. And not even every year!”

“So prestigious,” Auntie Hien said, nodding in agreement. “Any student who has this fellowship will have his pick of medical schools.”

“That's not always true,” Dat said, smiling sheepishly. “But it's often the case.”

The guests crowded around him to offer their congratulations. Even Grandmother Vo called him over to her seat to give him a hug.

“Sorry,” Dat said when Lum shook his hand. “I didn't mean to take any attention away from your party.”

“I don't care,” Lum said. “It's great news.”

Cherry walked into the kitchen, where she helped her dad load the dishwasher and put out the plates for cake and ice cream. They could hear her mother setting up the karaoke machine in the living room. Typically, Uncle Bao set up the karaoke machine, but since he and Auntie Tri were still fighting, he hadn't been invited.

“Did your brother call Grandmère?” her father asked as they dried the dessert forks with some dishrags. She'd called earlier that afternoon, when Lum was out picking up ice bags.

“Not yet,” Cherry said.

“Tell him not to forget,” he said. “She wanted him to talk to Grandpère, too. He was having a good day today. Who knows how he will be tomorrow?” He sadly shook his head and continued to rub the forks dry.

Cherry wished their father could tell Lum himself, but they'd gotten into an argument that morning when Lum was opening his presents over breakfast. Their father had bought Lum a graphing calculator.

“The man at the store said it's good for chemistry, calculus, biology,” their father proudly said, as Lum turned the box over in his hands. “Top of the line.”

“I'm not even taking premed classes,” Lum said, handing it back to him. “Couldn't you have asked me before wasting your money?”

“You say no to foreign-language classes,” their father said, “and no to literature classes. And now you refuse to take science? Why are we even paying for you to go to school?”

Their mother sent Lum off to the grocery store to pick up extra ice. She then made Cherry's father promise not to talk to Lum for the rest of the night.

“You want me to be happy today?” their mother told him. “You leave my son alone.”

So he did. Their father and Lum barely looked at each other all evening and were always on the opposite ends of the room. Even when Lum blew out his candles on the birthday cake, their father stood in the doorway of the dining room, looking more like one of the polite acquaintances than a proud father.

After the cake was served, many of the guests left, but their mother's relatives and coworkers from the salon stayed behind to watch a Vietnamese movie. The kids loitered in the backyard, trying to organize carpools to Huy's house for a poker game arranged in Lum's honor. Cherry felt worn out, but her cousins threatened to make fun of her if she stayed in on another Saturday night. Duyen looked over and caught her brother lurking behind the screen door.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Is there room for another player?” Dat asked, half of his face hidden behind the doorframe.

“Are you kidding?” Linh asked, but Lum and Huy exchanged glances and smiled.

“It's a five-hundred-dollar buy-in,” Huy said. “Cash only.”

“I can go to an ATM,” Dat said.

“Sure then,” Lum said. “Of course.” He even offered Dat a ride in his car, leaving Cherry to ride with Linh and Duyen.

“What is your brother up to?” Linh asked as they walked through the house to the front door.

“Who knows?” Duyen said. “Hey, I didn't realize they had to cough up so much dough. Cherry, did you know that?”

Cherry shook her head. She hadn't realized Lum had that much cash to spare.

They said good night to their mothers, who were rehashing the evening's events and munching on egg rolls before the movie. Cherry's mother reminded her to come home early since she had an academic decathlon competition the next day.

As they walked down the driveway, a parked car across the street turned its lights on. Duyen put her hand up to peer at the familiar vehicle.

“Linh, it's your dad.”

Perhaps it was because of his old singing career in Saigon, but Uncle Bao had always prided himself on his appearance: gel-sculpted hair, fitted shirts, and polished shoes. Even though he worked as an auto mechanic, his nails were always clean and trimmed, his face free of grease. Tonight, he wore a pair of loose-fitting sweats and a faded T-shirt. And he smelled. French fries, cigarettes, and body odor. Cherry looked past him at his car, and recognized Linh's ratty old Care Bears sleeping bag in the backseat. A pillow and several bags of fried shrimp chips were stuffed in the back window.

“I'll see you guys later,” Linh said, only looking at her father, his eyes large and pleading.

“But you're giving us a ride,” Duyen said.

“Go with Johnny,” Linh snapped.

“Uncle Bao is so pathetic,” Duyen whispered as they buckled into the backseat of Johnny's car. “I can't believe he had the guts to show up.”

“He did wait for the party to end,” Cherry said.

“Can you believe he's sleeping in his car?” Duyen asked, bopping to the thumping bass from the car speakers. “Linh must feel so humiliated.”

Huy's poker party was larger than Cherry expected. She knew he'd been organizing these games for some time, but she'd assumed it was just four or five friends around the kitchen table. Instead, cars lined up around the block—Cherry counted more than were at Lum's birthday party. Plenty of guys she'd never seen before, some of them as old as their parents, sauntered around Huy's front yard. They brought along foldout card tables, metal briefcases full of poker chips, and six-packs of beer.

Lum, Quynh, and Dat arrived a few minutes later. Lum had untucked his dress shirt, already looking more at home at Huy's than he had at their parents' house. Dat was trying his best to look casual, but was clearly freaked about the cash he carried, obsessively patting his jacket pocket with his right hand. As the players exchanged their cash for chips, Cherry leaned against her brother's shoulder.

“What money are you using?” Cherry asked, chewing on her jagged thumbnail.

“Birthday money,” he replied.

“All of it?”

Lum laughed as he held a stack of chips between his thumb and middle finger. “Don't worry, Cherry. I'm careful.”

The poker party split into a collection of smaller games throughout the house. Dat and Lum ended up at the same table in Huy's bedroom. The girls set up their foldout chairs a respectable distance from the table. Once the deal was called and blinds thrown, everyone knew to be quiet.

Cherry's only previous poker-viewing experiences were Uncle Viet's games, before he decided to quit (or before Grandmother Vo forced him to). Those games were much more interesting to watch. At Huy's house, no one shouted or groaned at the flop. No praying or cursing. These players only muttered their calls and folds. Even when someone won a hand, he simply swept his arm to collect the chips.

Quynh returned from the kitchen and handed Duyen another beer and Cherry a glass of tap water. Between hands, Quynh would replenish the players' drinks and empty out the cereal bowls they were using for ashtrays. She did this so naturally, Cherry wondered how long she'd been tending to these games, how long Lum had been playing in them.

To pass the time, Cherry observed the players, studying their faces to determine how successful their bluffs were. The skill level was disappointing. For all their seriousness, no one even attempted to read each other's tics, leading to lousy bets and lost opportunities. Huy, the host, couldn't hide his smirk if he had any pair. Another boy slumped his shoulders at every bad hand. But the worst—for possibly the first time in his life—was Dat, indecisive when it was his turn, and petulant when he lost. Given his competitors, Cherry's brother, who held the only decent poker face at the table, had no problem taking control of the game, though his winnings were small. Cherry got the feeling he was holding back.

While Huy dealt the next hand, Linh appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were pink, her mascara smeared.

“Is this where the party is?” she asked, smiling, leaning against the doorframe.

“Shhhh,” one of the players said automatically, glaring at her.

“Huy?” Linh said, taking another step inside. “Did that jerk just shush me?”

Some of the players groaned, putting down their cards, leaning back into their chairs. Huy took a sip from his glass, sharing an exasperated glance with Lum.

“Excuse me?” Linh said, waving her hands above her head. “Hello? I'm still here.”

“Linh,” Huy finally said, still barely looking at her. “We're in the middle of a round. Can it wait?”

Duyen stood and blocked Linh from walking farther into the room. “Why don't we go outside?” Duyen suggested. “It's boring here anyway.”