The Reeducation of Cherry Truong (25 page)

Before Linh could answer, Duyen had successfully pushed her out to the hallway. Cherry and Quynh could still hear Linh yelling, her angry words muffled through the wall.

“She looked really upset,” Quynh said. “Maybe we should go help.”

Cherry shrugged her shoulders. If they went out there, the three of them rushing to tend to Linh's outburst, she'd only grow more hysterical. Sometimes Linh calmed down if she realized she didn't have an audience. “Duyen can deal with her.”

Settling her head against Quynh's shoulder, Cherry watched another hand. She'd always admired Quynh, someone people considered both smart and pretty, a pairing no one in their family had ever managed.

“Did you know,” Quynh whispered, “that Dat spent three hours helping me memorize biochemistry formulas last week?”

Cherry took a breath, trying to imagine Dat doing something so selfless. “Really?”

“He didn't have to.”

“He probably wanted to,” she said. “He'll be with you any way he can.”

Quynh sighed. “He wants to be friends, with all of us. He told me so.”

“And you believed him?”

Her smile was vague. “He thought your brother would respect him if he played.”

Cherry snorted. “Why?”

“Because I suggested it.” Quynh sighed. “Maybe it was a stupid idea.”

Cherry peered over at the table, at the meager pile of chips in front of her cousin. While she surmised that Lum was leading the table, Cherry hadn't considered that Dat could be in last place, though it was clear why. The more he lost, the worse his calls became, his chip pile dwindling.

“Can I buy more chips?” Dat asked. “You know I'm good for it.”

Huy started counting out chips. “How much do you want? A hundred?”

“I'll have five hundred again.”

Huy and Lum exchanged a glance.

“I saw that,” Dat snapped, wiping his sweaty forehead with the heel of his free hand. “I know what I'm doing. Just give me what I asked.”

Once Dat received the chips, Huy dealt the cards. Some of the players swiftly folded. Huy revealed the flop. The rest of the players folded, leaving only Lum and Dat. Their cousin called Lum's bet and raised him a hundred. Lum raised it another hundred. Sickeningly, Dat did it again, committing the ridiculous move of the most desperate player, pushing all of his chips in. Well over a thousand dollars in the pot. The other players smirked at one another, enjoying the suicidal spectacle, waiting for the river card.

Quynh leaned forward in her seat, elbows on her knees, fingers pressed to her lips. Cherry wanted to say something to Lum, to get him to stop this, but she only sat back, her breath in her throat. She could already imagine Auntie Hien and Uncle Chinh's expressions of outrage, Grandmother Vo's withering glares of recrimination, her own mother's shame.

How could you let this happen?
she'd say, not to Lum, not to Dat, not to anyone but Cherry. Only Cherry.

Lum stared at his cards, slowly chewing on his lip. “I fold,” he finally said, setting his cards down.

And with that, the air returned to the room. The other players began to chuckle. Huy pushed the chips to Dat, but Cherry's cousin put his hand out.

“What are you doing?” Dat asked. “You're not even going to wait for the river?”

Lum shook his head.

“Let me see your hand,” Dat said, reaching across the table.

Lum was faster, pulling his cards away, slipping them back with the rest of the cards that Huy slid over to him. “No.”

The other players lost interest, pushing away from the table, milling out of the room for a cigarette break. Quynh and Cherry stood and walked up to the table.

“C'mon,” Huy said quietly, resting a hand on Dat's shoulder. “You played a good game.”

Dat shrugged Huy's hand off. “Don't touch me,” he said. He looked back at Cherry's brother. “Did you just set me up?”

“How did I set you up?” Lum asked. “You won.”

“Did you let me win?” Dat asked. “Are you pitying me?”

“Dat,” Quynh said hesitantly.

Dat turned to her sharply, glowering. “Did you put him up to this?”

“Dat,” Quynh said again, her voice more insistent.

“Listen,” Lum quietly said, his eyes occasionally glancing at the door. “I know you've been helping Quynh study and I appreciate it. I'm just looking out for you, okay, cousin?” His words sounded sincere; even his delivery evoked generosity. But Cherry only had to look at the smile on his face. He was enjoying this.

“No,” Dat said. “Not okay. I was helping your girlfriend because she clearly needed the help.”

“Hey,” Cherry interrupted.

“Shut up,” Dat said, pointing a finger at her, before turning to look at Lum and Quynh. “But I don't need help. Certainly not from you.”

“Maybe you should go,” Huy said. While they'd been arguing, he'd counted out Dat's chips and replaced them with a short pile of bills.

Dat's face had grown red and moist. As he leaned forward to gather his money, the collected perspiration from his forehead sprinkled the table. His hands trembled with frustration as he stuffed the bills deep into his jacket pocket. When he finally looked up at them, his eyes appeared full of hate.

“I could report you, you know,” he said. “It's illegal to gamble, and you're underage.”

“Dat,” Lum said, no longer able to hide his grin, “you asked to come here, remember? You asked for this.”

They all silently watched as Dat took several deep breaths, zipped up his jacket, and walked out of the room. Cherry wanted to say something to Lum, but the rest of the players had returned. Quynh gathered some empty beer bottles and left the room. Cherry followed her.

In the kitchen, Quynh dumped the spent bottles into the sink and then pulled out a clean glass from the cupboard to pour herself some tap water. Cherry leaned against the counter, her eyes glazing over the dust and crumbs on the floor.

“Did you know he was going to do that?” Cherry asked.

“No,” Quynh said, after taking a long drink. “I had no idea.”

“Lum should have just let him lose,” Cherry said, shaking her head in disgust.

“That would have just embarrassed Dat. Your brother wanted to humiliate him.”

“Wait,” Cherry said, confused. “Whose side are you on?”

Quynh stared at the glass in her hands. “There shouldn't be sides.”

“You're defending Dat. How can you do that after what he said to you?”

“He didn't mean it,” Quynh said. “You can't get mad at someone if they don't understand what they're doing.”

“Yes, you can. He's not stupid. He knows how to hurt people. He always has.”

“But he didn't,” Quynh said. “Your brother did. Dat was reaching out to your brother, and Lum threw it in his face.”

“Or maybe Lum recognized Dat was bullshitting.”

Quynh shook her head. “I should have handled this better. I could have stopped this.”

The piercing crash of shattered glass reverberated throughout the house. They both jumped, Quynh grabbing for Cherry's arm. A car alarm erupted, followed by shouting. Cherry recognized one of the voices, the pitch, the near shrill. People hustled down the stairs and out of the house.

When they ran outside, they saw the sparkly shards of glass scattered across Huy's driveway. The car alarm from Huy's Toyota Corolla continued to wail, while the guys from the poker game gawked at the gaping hole where the car's rear windshield used to be. On the sidewalk, Linh continued to hurl beer bottles from the recycling bin at the car and garage door. Duyen pleaded with her to stop.

Huy pushed past Cherry's shoulder. He pulled at Linh's hair once he saw the damage, incensed. “You crazy bitch!” he screamed. “What is wrong with you?”

Linh tossed another bottle. It broke near Huy's feet. “What is wrong with me?” Linh asked. “What is wrong with you?”

The distraction was enough for Duyen and Quynh to grab hold of Linh from either side. While Linh and Huy continued to yell obscenities at each other, Cherry ran behind them, pulling the half-emptied recycling bin away. With both hands, she dragged it back to the side of the house.

Eventually, Lum and Johnny pulled Huy back into the house, while Duyen and Quynh forced Linh to sit on the sidewalk, trying to calm her down.

“He didn't even ask,” Linh wailed. “He doesn't even care what happened to me.”

“Tell us,” Quynh pleaded, as Cherry warily stood a few feet from them. Duyen and Quynh were patting Linh's hair and stroking her arms. “Tell us what happened.”

Does it even matter what she said? How she rationalized this destructive, indulgent temper tantrum? Of course, it was about her parents, how they embarrassed each other, how they mortified her—and after all of it, they went home together, like they always did, like they always would. Linh took full advantage of her makeshift stage on the driveway, strangers from the party her unwilling audience, the streetlamp her inadequate spotlight. She cried, she raged, she screamed. She screamed some more.

“Why can't they just divorce each other and get it over with?” Linh asked. “Why drag me into it? Why make me miserable, too?”

Cherry couldn't help it. She couldn't keep quiet any longer. “Didn't you just drag Huy into it?” she asked.

Linh looked up, realizing for the first time that Cherry was there. “What?” she asked.

“Look at what you did to his car,” Cherry said, “because you were upset with your parents?”

“Cherry,” Duyen said. “This isn't the right time—”

“Are you kidding me?” Linh said, standing, her eyes furious.

“No,” Cherry said, struggling to maintain her balance, placing one hand on the mailbox for support. Someone had to tell her cousin the truth. “You say you don't want your parents exposing all their secrets, yet you do the same thing. You can't keep anything to yourself. You have to embarrass all of us, too.”

“Why don't we go home?” Quynh asked, pulling at Linh's arm. “You can stay at my house tonight—”

“Do you realize how much I could say, but don't?” Linh asked, stumbling closer to Cherry. “To protect the family's little baby? Who doesn't know shit?”

“Linh,” Duyen said, wincing. “Don't.”

“You're the one who should be embarrassed,” Linh screamed, inches from Cherry's face. “You think my parents are shameful? Do you even know what yours have done? To us? To our entire family?”

Duyen now stood by Cherry's side. Her cousin had eased Cherry's grip from the mailbox, making her feel untethered, and vulnerable. Quynh had managed to pull Linh away, but her cousin still edged forward at them, her arms flailing. Linh had been in fights before. Cherry hadn't, but she wasn't scared. In fact, she wanted Linh to slip from Quynh's grasp and reach her.

“You act like you know everything,” Linh sobbed, “and you have no idea.”

“What don't I know?” Cherry asked. “Tell me.”

“Your mother? She was the whore of Vung Tau.”

Cherry blinked at her cousin's mascara-streaked face. “You're a dirty liar,” she said, turning away.

“And you're a fat pig.”

“Stop!” Duyen cried, near tears. “Just shut up, both of you.”

“Go ask your mother who she was engaged to before your dad.” Linh's voice had calmed, no longer hysterical. She sounded pleased with herself. “How many men she was stringing along.”

All these eyes on Cherry, waiting, watching, expecting her to collapse, to fall apart. Instead of responding to her cousin, instead of looking back at any of them, she turned and walked away. Along the sidewalk, one foot in front of another, moderate, medium-size steps, trying to press out her rage, her frustration with every step, until she approached the intersection. It didn't work. She was still trembling.

The light was red. Don't walk. Cherry stood there, blinking at the sign, until she felt a hand on her shoulder. For a moment, she imagined—hoped—it was her brother's. But the hand was too small, too smooth. Lum was probably still inside, oblivious, uninterested, in her humiliation. It was a warm, sympathetic squeeze, but Cherry still stepped forward, letting Duyen's hand slip off her.

“Do you believe her?” Cherry asked.

Her cousin didn't answer. Together, they watched the traffic at the intersection, slow, sparse. A light-brown SUV turned on its left hand blinker, waiting to turn on their street. When it did, the halogen headlights washed brightly into their tired eyes, until they couldn't see anything else.

 

1985

Cuc Bui
Paris, France

… God has blessed our family with so much. I pray every day that we are worthy of His gifts. I was afraid my sons would die in prison camp, and they survived. I feared our families would never escape the Communists, but the Lord was watching over us, and the boat captains agreed to my proposal. We were strangers in this beautiful cold country, but God provided us with our guardian angels, the Bourdains.

They have no reason to offer such kindness, yet they do. Monsieur Bourdain is the man I aspired to be in Vietnam. I gave up this dream long ago. Perhaps Yen will one day reach his status. He is doing very well at the law firm. But poor Phung, so like his mother in heart and head. Fortunately, he is not smart enough ever to understand my disappointment. He is grateful only for his wife and daughter, content with his small life, which relieves me.

I look forward to every visit we have with the Bourdains, because I know they are busy people. They do so much for the community, and their bright young son excels at his studies. I am proud to report that Xuan is also doing very well in his schooling, and Cam is performing capably. The three of them, friends since childhood, almost siblings. I hope they will remain close all their lives, long after their grandparents and parents have passed.