The Time in Between (21 page)

“I hate it here. We had this vision, or at least my inspired husband did, to start a church here. My husband, you know, is a man much given to grand plans. Everything is such a struggle. I’m terrible with the language, and I abhor the market and the people clutching and grabbing, and I miss my friends. We have eight months left and then our visas expire. Sitting here, with you, this is nice. And every third Monday of the month I see some of the other women at Christy’s, but I can’t survive on that. Jane is suffocating. Sammy’s happy as a clam. He jabbers away in Vietnamese with Ai Ty, his nanny.” She began to cry. She looked straight ahead and made small noises and tears ran down her cheeks but she didn’t wipe them away. She held her glass of wine and her bottle and she sat with her back perfectly straight and she cried. Then, just as suddenly as she began, she stopped. She wiped at her eyes and said after a moment that Charles had spent a lot of time with them.

“We knew him. Better than I let on the other day when you came to visit. I didn’t know what you wanted that day. I thought, These are Charles’s children, how odd. The thing is I didn’t want to know his children. I wanted to remember him as I knew him. Though I guess I didn’t
really
know him.” She said that Thanh had come to their house to give them the news, two days after Charles’s body had been found. She said the word
body
softly.

Then, as if she needed to step backward onto more solid ground, she said, “When your father first came to Danang, we saw him. On the streets walking. A few times at China Beach. Then one day we were in the same restaurant. He was sitting in a corner by himself, wearing a blue blazer—I remember that because it was very hot and I thought he must have been uncomfortable—and we asked him to join us. He didn’t jump at the invitation, but in the end he did sit at our table and I asked him, just before we said good-bye that day, whether he always wore a jacket in hot weather. He smiled. After that, he started to come over to our house for drinks and meals. Sometimes, in the afternoon, I’d sit with him on the balcony and we’d talk. I have very fond memories of that. We met at different restaurants. Jack was usually there, of course. One time, your father and I rode down by train from Hue. Jack and I were going up there and so we invited Charles. Jack had to stay on, he had some work to do, so Charles and I, we traveled back to Danang together.” She stopped.

Ada saw the redness of Elaine’s mouth and was astounded at this carefully worded confession. She saw that sex could leap out of nowhere and obscure people, make them stupid. She imagined her father’s hands holding Elaine’s thin calf.

Jane came running up from the shore, carrying Sammy. Colin followed, being chased by Trang. Jane sat Sammy down and then lay on her side in the sand and pushed a hand under her mother’s foot.

“Jellyfish,” Sammy said. He held up his arms in a circle.

“Are there, dear?” Elaine said. She put her bottle down and held the ends of Jane’s wet hair.

Jane lay on her back and shielded her eyes with one hand. Her belly was smooth and dark. Ada could see the tan lines where her bikini had slid down.

Jane turned her head toward Ada. “Jon said he might tutor me in math. He said he was brilliant. Is he?” She squinted. Her mouth was round and full and it made Ada think of Del.

She said, “More brilliant than I am. But then, I’m awful. Who teaches you, normally?”

“My mom and dad. But they’re tyrants.”

“Aaw, sweetie.” Elaine looked away. She wiped her raw face and then stood and brushed the sand from her legs. “Sammy,” she called. He ran to her and she lifted him up. “Big beautiful boy,” she said and began to walk back up toward the house. Colin tagged along, running circles around them. Trang said that everybody should come up to the house for a drink. Then he turned and followed Elaine and the children.

Jane had sat up and was studying her legs as if to check for flaws. She lay down on her stomach and pushed the side of her face against the warm sand. “Nice,” she said.

“How is it here, in Danang?” Ada asked.

“It sucks. It’s boring. My mother? She’s so depressed. And my father rides around on his motorcycle and takes nothing seriously. He knows it’s illegal to be preaching but still he does it. He wants to get caught.”

“Caught?” Ada asked. She was intrigued by Jane’s voice. It was husky and low and cynical.

Jane lifted a shoulder and tugged at her bikini top and then settled back in with a satisfied sigh. “Yeah. Like he was a spy or something,” she said. “Am I burning?”

When they got back to the house, Elaine was standing by the doorway, looking down the lane toward the road that led to the bridge to town. She said that Jon and Jack had taken Thanh’s motorcycle into town; Jack had wanted to get more beer. They would be right back.

The rest of the guests had moved into the front room that looked out toward the ocean. Hoang Vu was sitting by himself on a wicker couch and Ada asked if there was space for her. “Space?” he said, and then he said, “Oh,” and slid over and said, “Please.” He crossed his legs and Ada saw his delicate ankle showing between his pant leg and sock.

Delphine suggested they play charades; Colin loved the game. Jane, who had changed back into shorts and a T-shirt, stood and divided the group into two. She said that they should do movie titles. Thanh said that he didn’t know American movies, except for Sylvester Stallone. He laughed and Jane said she would help him.

As the game progressed, Ada was conscious of Hoang Vu, of his alertness when she called out a response, and his hands resting on his thighs. As they played, Elaine stood off to the side, lifting her glass and lowering her chin ever so slightly. Every few minutes she would walk to the doorway and look out. Once, she stepped outside, and when she returned, her face was wet and she said, “It’s raining.”

The games ended, cake was served, an hour or more had passed and still Jon and Jack had not returned. Sammy had fallen asleep on Thanh’s sister’s lap. At one point Vu turned to Ada and said that he had met her father. One night Charles had come to Vu’s house and they had drunk a lot and talked late. Vu confessed that he had done much of the talking.

Ada wanted to pursue this, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open. The remains of her fever tugged at her brain; she felt as if she were seeing through a fog. Nicky began to tell a ribald joke, moving his hands about. Ada lost track of the joke. She yawned and covered her mouth and found herself leaning against Vu’s shoulder. He didn’t move.

A voice woke her. She saw Jack standing in the middle of the room. Jon was behind him. Jack was explaining that Thanh’s motorcycle had broken down. Elaine cried out “Like hell it did,” and she hit Jack across the face and Nicky grabbed her and held her.

Jack shuffled his feet and reached out for her but Nicky waved him back. Jane leaned against the far wall and bit at a hangnail, her eyes moving from Jon to her mother, and then back again. Jon held up his hands and said, “I think I should go.” He turned to Thanh and said thank you, and then he glanced at Ada, grimaced, and left.

Thanh was very officious and apologetic. He said sorry to Ada, to Elaine, Jon, and to Nicky and Delphine. He clasped his hands and said that the motorcycle was old. It was Russian-built and very prone to breakdowns. He said
prone
carefully, and he seemed aware and pleased that he had used the word correctly.

The light in the room was dim, people seemed to disperse and then come back. Ada apologized to Thanh for her brother’s rudeness. She said that she was still feeling weak after her illness and thanked him. She turned to Vu then and asked if he could take her home or maybe find her a taxi. He stood and said that he had his bicycle and if she didn’t mind sitting on the carrier, he would take her back to her hotel.

The rain had stopped, the sky was gray, and a warm wind came off the water. Vu rode her up the small lane to the ferry landing, and together, sitting on a wooden bench, they waited for it to pull in. It was not late, but darkness had fallen and on the other side of the Han River the lights of Danang glowed.

When the ferry arrived they crossed the gangplank and Ada walked to the bow and sat. Vu stood beside her, holding his bicycle with one hand. She tried to keep her eyes open but did not succeed. Her head dropped and lifted and dropped. She heard Vu light a cigarette, looked up, and saw his hands and his dark face. When they had exited the ferry, she again sat sidesaddle on the bike’s carrier. She put her arms around Vu’s waist and pressed the side of her face lightly between his shoulder blades. He didn’t seem to mind and as they rode she felt the movement of his shirt against her cheek.

ADA WAS ASLEEP BY THE TIME JON CAME BACK TO THE HOTEL, AND in the morning neither said a word about the night before. But while they were eating breakfast Jon told Ada that he was going to fly up to Hanoi for a while. “I want to see the city,” he said. He sat back and ran a hand through his hair. “And there’s not a lot left here. For me.”

“And for me, Jon, you think there’s a lot for me here? The hospital called again about Dad’s ashes. We have to face that. We told Del we’d be home soon.”

“We’ll figure it out. It just doesn’t have to be done at this moment. I’m going up to Hanoi to be on my own for a while. Will you let me do this.”

Ada stirred sugar into her coffee. She did not respond.

Jon sighed and said, “Yesterday was kind of lousy.”

“Kind of?”

“It wasn’t planned. And then Elaine lost it. Came out of nowhere.”

“Really.” Ada shook her head. She lit a cigarette and said, “You want to break things into pieces but what you’re really after is attention.”

“I didn’t break anything. Dad did.”

“No, Jon. Dad made a choice for himself. I know that you were hurt by Dad, that you didn’t feel he praised you enough, or that he didn’t admire you or accept your lifestyle, but what he did here in Vietnam is about him, not you. He didn’t kill himself so that you would be left without a father. That’s just wrong thinking.”

Jon called the waitress over and paid for the breakfast. He said that he didn’t owe their father anything else. He would be moving on.

“You’re going to Hanoi alone?”

“I’m going to Hanoi alone.” He looked at Ada and asked whether she would be lonely by herself. He worried that she might do something rash.

“Uh-uh,” she said. “I’m fine. Really.”

They left the restaurant and walked down the sidewalk, past the post office, and across the street to the harbor. While they walked Ada said that there had been something between Elaine and their father. “Elaine talked about him yesterday. I could see that she liked him.”

“Elaine Gouds. Well, well. I wonder if Jack knew.”

Ada said that she liked the idea of their father spending time with Elaine Gouds. Elaine was clever and she had a privileged woman’s allure and their father must have been intrigued by her confidence and her sharp beauty. They were quiet for a time as they walked alongside the river.

“What will you do while I’m gone?” he asked.

She said she didn’t know. “Wait for you.”

Later, they went up the street to the airline office, where Jon bought a ticket to Hanoi for the following morning. Ada stood there watching him and was aware of the sharpness of his shoulders and the soft bristles of his freshly cut hair.

Jon left for the airport early the next morning. Ada said good-bye to him at the hotel entrance and then went to the café across the street. At first it felt good to be alone, but back in the room later she saw Jon’s empty bed, panicked, and wondered why she had let him go. At loose ends, she read and then showered and read some more. At one point she thought of Thanh’s party and of Jon and Jack, and she recalled Vu riding her down the lane to the ferry and how his silence had made her feel safe. She thought that she wanted to see him again. She liked his presence and that he had known her father. His address was among her father’s things.

That afternoon, she took her map and walked up Quang Trung Street, past metal forges and a glass blowing factory. She paused at Ong Ich Khiem Street. It was a hot day, and she had forgotten her hat. She stood in the shade of an awning. The sun had tired her out. She sat down on a red plastic stool and took a bottle of water from her backpack and drank slowly, watching the street. A bread vendor passed by, a woman on a bicycle.

When she stood finally and continued walking, she found that she had lost her sense of direction. She stopped a young boy, pointed at the map, and said a street name. The boy grinned at her and spoke quickly in Vietnamese and pointed in the direction Ada had been going. The boy asked for a cigarette. Ada gave him one, though he must have been no more than thirteen. She left him squatting by the gutter, smoking, hugging his bare knees. She carried on and eventually came to the street she had been looking for. She followed the small lane and found the number on a green gate. Everything appeared locked, the gate, the door beyond the gate, the shuttered windows. She called out and from inside the house came the sound of barking. She looked around for neighbors, for movement, but saw nothing. She stood close to the gate and waited for a while and then, disappointed, found her way back to the hotel.