The Reeducation of Cherry Truong (37 page)

“And you never listen in on their conversations?” Linh asked as she drove them to Duyen's house one Saturday afternoon. Linh and Duyen had finished their morning shift at the salon and were dropping by Duyen's place to pick up sweatshirts and snacks before going to the beach.

“No,” Cherry said.

“Aren't you curious?” Linh said. “What could Lum and Dat possibly say to each other every night?”

“Mommy changed the PIN on Dat's bank account,” Duyen said, then shrugged when Cherry turned to look at her in the backseat. “She doesn't want what happened to you to happen to him.”

“You still think he's trying to swindle Dat,” Linh said.

“What else could he want?” Duyen said, slurping on her milkshake.

“Duyen,” Cherry groaned.

“Sorry,” Duyen said. “But you know it's true.”

“Huy told me he saw them outside the science library the other day,” Linh said. “Maybe Dat is turning your brother around.”

“Did he say hello?” Cherry asked. Months had passed, but it still unsettled her not to see Lum's oldest friend around. He was one of the saddest casualties of Lum's stupid addiction.

“He still says he's not talking to Lum until Lum pays him back,” Linh said. She shrugged at Cherry's frown. “It's a lot of money. People don't forget stuff like that.”

When they turned on Duyen's street, they found a silver Lexus sitting in front of the house, the engine still running. As they pulled up, the tinted driver's side window rolled down and a Vietnamese man with spiky hair and mirrored sunglasses poked his head out. He looked at them for a moment, ducked back in, and the window promptly rolled up.

“Weird,” Linh said, then glanced over at Duyen. “An old boyfriend?”

“I don't think so,” she said, after looking the car over.

“I'll find out,” Cherry said, hopping out of Linh's car. Her heart pounding, she approached the silver Lexus and tapped the window. Hip-hop music vibrated through her fingers. “Hello?” she asked, praying it wasn't one of the poker-club members. “Can I help you?”

It took a minute for the driver to turn down his music and lower his window. The upholstery reeked of cigarette smoke. He grinned at her. Cherry realized he wasn't a man, but a boy, maybe twenty, twenty-one. He grinned at her. “Is this Dat Le's house?” he asked.

She paused for a moment, hoping that her cousins couldn't hear. “Who are you?”

He mimicked her pause. “Just a friend.”

“I'm his cousin. I know you aren't his friend.”

The boy laughed, almost wheezing. “Ah, you're Lum's little sister, the smart one.”

“Dat's not home,” Cherry said.

“Well, he and Lum told me to meet them here. So I think I'll just wait.”

Duyen stepped out of the car, joining Cherry. “Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head. “Have I seen you before?”

“Ah,” the guy said, leering at Cherry's slender cousin. “You must be the beauty queen.”

“Want me to call the cops?” Linh yelled.

“Ladies,” the stranger said, ignoring her, slapping his steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “I promise you I'm no intruder. I'm just waiting on a meeting with friends, okay?” His grin returned. “And here they are.”

The girls backed away from the car as the boy stepped out. He wasn't that tall, actually a little scrawny, with a pointy jawline and sloped shoulders. He looked more intimidating sitting in his car. He dressed all in black, his jeans noticeably more faded than his shirt and jacket.

“This is your new friend?” Duyen asked, after Dat, Lum, and Quynh joined them on the driveway. “I'm so impressed.”

“This is a private meeting,” Dat said, clearing his throat. “Why don't you girls just go inside?”

“Do you hear yourself?” Duyen said. “Since when do you take meetings?”

“Duyen, it's okay,” Quynh said, but she still had her sunglasses on, and the tight smile on her face did not feel reassuring.

“Yes, it is okay,” the boy agreed, pulling off his sunglasses. “It's a beautiful day, and these are some lovely ladies.”

Cherry pulled at Duyen's arm, following Linh into the house. Lum hadn't even looked at her.

Once inside, they ran up to Duyen's room where her window had a good view of the driveway. Duyen carefully slid the window open as they sat beneath it on the floor. Several minutes passed.

“Can you hear anything?” Duyen finally whispered.

“No,” Cherry said. She pulled two of the venetian blinds open with her fingers to look. Although she recognized that they spoke Vietnamese, Cherry couldn't hear their words. Dat made large gestures with his arms, while Lum stood eerily still, his arms crossed.

“You know who that is, don't you?” Linh said, pulling a teddy bear from Duyen's bed to use as a pillow.

“Who?” Duyen said.

“That's Bac Luong's youngest son, I remembered when Lum said his name. Grandmother loaned his dad the money to open up a restaurant, but he couldn't pay the rent.”

Cherry glanced at her cousin. “What happened?”

“They had to close down, and then the family moved to New Orleans.”

“I guess not all of them,” Duyen said. “I wonder how he can afford a Lexus.”

“He must be in a gang.”

“No, he's not,” Cherry cried.

Linh and Duyen looked at her suspiciously. “How would you know?” Duyen asked.

“I just don't believe it. Lum would never associate with anyone like that.”

“You mean Lum only plays with nice gamblers?” Linh asked.

“He isn't a criminal.” Cherry watched as they exchanged one of their secret glances. “He
isn't
.”

“I hope you're right,” Duyen said. “Because this doesn't just affect Lum.”

“Then why don't you ask
your
brother?” Cherry said.

But Cherry was worried, too, and Linh's observations lingered with her the rest of the afternoon.

When Lum smiled at her during dinner that evening and asked about her classes, Cherry asked him about his new friend. Even in front of their parents, his smile didn't waver.

“Thinh?” he said. “He works at a hotel where we make deliveries.”

“Vietnamese?” their mother asked, brightening. “What's his last name?”

“I don't remember,” Lum said.

“Well, he must be making a lot of money at the hotel,” Cherry said, reaching over the table for seconds of the lemongrass chicken. “That's a really expensive car he's driving.”

Lum's face still didn't crack. “Thinh is in guest services. He works the reservation desk.”

“That's great,” their father said. “Maybe he can help you get a job there.”

Lum squirmed in his seat. “I'm not sure it works that way.”

“How do you know if you don't try?” their father asked. “If I hadn't kept looking for better opportunities, I'd still be a custodian.”

“A custodian isn't a bad job,” Lum muttered.

Their father laughed. “Unless you have a family to feed. Unless you want to have a house. You can do better than delivering flowers.”

“I know I can do better,” Lum said, his voice thickening, his good mood dissipated.

“By working hard,” their mother interrupted, putting a hand on Lum's clenched fingers. “By being a good boy. No card playing, right?”

“Right,” Lum said, glancing briefly at the perfectly filed fingernails tap tapping on his fist. “No card playing.”

Later that night, Cherry called Dat. He answered on the first ring. Dat promised that Lum was already close to reaching his debt limit with the poker club. Thinh had dropped by to warn Lum that next week's Tet tournament was his last chance.

“Then they'll throw him out,” Dat said, “Blacklist him from playing in any other club in Orange County. It'll be over.”

“And they're going to make sure he loses?” Cherry asked. “They can do that?”

“Of course,” Dat said with a scoff. “They're practically professionals. We've already put up the money for the game.”

The assurance in his voice unnerved her. “Do you know who this Thinh guy really is?”

When Dat didn't reply, Cherry relayed what Linh had told her. Cherry could hear Dat's shallow breathing.

“That was a long time ago,” he said finally. “So what?”

“So what?” Cherry repeated furiously. “So maybe he isn't a huge fan of our grandmother?”

“I approached Thinh. He's never met Grandmother.”

“You don't think he could have figured it out?”

“I have all the details worked out,” Dat said. “Thinh is not in control. I am.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I know Grandmother's reasons, but you don't even like Lum.”

“He's family,” Dat said, sounding offended. “Lum just needs to learn his lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“That this isn't the proper way to succeed. That you can't cheat. It takes hard work.”

“You mean, he needs to be more like you?”

“I'm sick of him dragging everyone down around him. She deserves better.”

“She?” Cherry repeated. He was silent. “You mean Quynh? Are you doing this to impress her?”

“You know, I've taken hours away from my valuable personal time to help your brother. I'm not going to apologize for who I am. And you're not so different from me, you know.”

“Yes, I am,” Cherry said.

“Oh, really? Why did you agree to Grandmother's plan? Because you were thinking of yourself. He emptied your bank account. He probably has gotten into your parents' accounts, too. You know college isn't cheap, Cherry. Don't pretend you don't.”

His accusations stuck in her head as she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and prepared for bed. Were she and Dat so different? They both valued education and diligent work and disdained shortcuts and stupidity. The only meaningful difference was that Cherry once had an older brother who looked out for her, who made sure she never felt outcast as a nerd, or a sellout, or a banana. Cherry rearranged her pillow a third time. Through their shared wall, she could hear Lum pacing in his bedroom, probably smoking a cigarette out the window. For several minutes, she contemplated getting up, walking to his door, knocking. But as Cherry thought about what she would say, how she could explain herself, she must have fallen asleep, because then it was morning. Lum had already left.

*   *   *

When Cherry was very young, her mother liked to remind her, she thought Lum was her other dad. While their mother tended to her nail clients, Lum and Cherry sat in the salon's back room, watching cartoons on a portable television with an antenna that could only pick up three channels. Lum taught her to imitate English from watching
The Price is Right
and
Popeye the Sailor Man
cartoons. To get her to eat her vegetables, Lum proclaimed anything green in her rice bowl to be spinach. Even though Cherry knew it wasn't true, she delighted in his fib because she knew he designed the lie especially for her.

As they got older, he confided things they couldn't share with their parents: a low quiz grade he got in social studies class, or a skateboarding trick he tried with friends at the park. Cherry wasn't sure how she earned his trust, but she protected it, promising herself that she'd never judge him (like their father did) or secretly wish he could be more studious (like their mother did). She'd never make him feel like Dumb Lum, just like he never made her feel like the fat cousin, the genetic blemish compared to Duyen and Linh. When Cherry was thirteen, after a humiliating evening at the Harvest Dance, the last school dance she'd ever attend, she asked her brother to tell her honestly if he thought she was ugly. He said no. Lum told her she was beautiful and that she had to believe him because he was never wrong.

For his twenty-first birthday, Lum requested no party. Their mother complied, but convinced him to have a family dinner, just the four of them. Lum hardly spoke throughout the meal, frequently checking his watch. When Cherry smiled at him, he looked away. After eating store-bought vanilla cupcakes, their father placed an envelope in front of Lum. Cherry's brother opened it: a postcard of the Eiffel Tower at sunset.

“We're taking you to Paris next month,” their father said. “Grandmère and Grandpère are already expecting us.”

Lum let the card slip from his fingers. The Eiffel Tower slid off his lap to the dining room carpet. Cherry pushed her seat away from the table, crossing and uncrossing her jittery legs.

“But I have work,” Lum said, then nodded in his sister's direction. “She has school.”

“Cherry's spring break is next month,” their mother said, walking to the table with a pot of jasmine tea. “And you can take off work, can't you?”

“Why now?” Lum asked, his eyes narrowing. “Why wouldn't we just go next summer?”

“Your grandpère is sick,” their father said. “This might be our last chance to see him.”

Lum stared at their father for a moment before looking away. “I don't believe you.”

“Darling,” their mother said.

“He's lying,” Lum cried, startling Cherry in her seat. “He just wants to get rid of me.”

“Stupid child,” their father said. “We're going as a family. You haven't seen your grandparents in years.”

“Since when was that so important to you?” Lum asked. “You want to keep me away from my friends.”

“What friends do you have left?” their father asked. “You've driven everyone away. It's only a matter of time before poor Quynh tires of you, too.”

“Then what is it? Why do you need me to leave the country so badly?”

“You wanted to raise your children here?” their father asked, turning to his wife. “Well, here is your American son. Selfish, disrespectful, practically unemployable except as a delivery boy and nickel gambler—”