Thirteen

Together, Mai and Tuan trudged down the beach, Hiep, like a large bag of rice, on Tuan’s bent back, moaning softly with each step. Their goal was the large Red Cross tent, the finish line where throngs of refugees sat on the ground outside waiting for their names to be called for immigration.

A bent old man with a straggly moustache eyed them as they approached. A baby squalled as he dug for his mother’s breast. A teen-aged girl held a squirmy toddler on her lap. Every day, a few lucky people left. Someday soon she hoped their names would be called.

She followed Tuan as he entered the clinic and laid Hiep on the ground, then approached a tiny woman with crooked teeth and dressed in a soiled white uniform who was sitting on a wooden bench behind a small table. Tuan’s chest was heaving, his breath coming in short gasps. Mai sat by Hiep and propped his head on her lap, her eyes focused on the woman and Tuan. She felt the weight of Hiep’s head on her leg and raised her hand to brush his hair off his forehead. She could see his eyelids closed, feel his breathing soft and regular against her, and the heat of his body. A pain cut through her, running down her chest. She sat very still, her back aching, her head throbbing, her mind a muddle of fear and confusion.

“Is the doctor in?” Tuan asked.

The woman, her head bent over a notebook, did not look up. Tuan waited, his hands clasped in front of him, trying to be patient and polite, but Mai could see the muscles on the back of his neck tighten and turn red. What is wrong with that woman? The pain in Mai’s chest grew sharper. The woman didn’t answer but kept on reading. Tuan cleared his throat and coughed. Mai swatted the flies that crawled across Hiep’s face and prayed that he would not die. The woman frowned at them, closed her book, and disappeared behind a partition. Tuan turned toward Mai and Hiep and balled his fists. Mai could feel the anger rising in her. They had come all this way to be ignored. If Hiep didn’t get help soon, he might die. That woman was Vietnamese but she was just like the soldiers; she didn’t care. It was just a job to her.

“Any more patients today?”

The tallest man Mai had ever seen appeared from behind the partition, wearing a white coat over his drab, knee-length shorts. A gray stethoscope dangled like a snake from his neck, and he carried a small black bag in his left hand. He must be American, but Mai was surprised at his flawless Vietnamese. Mai had seen a stethoscope before, when their family doctor had come to their house to tend to grandfather.

Mai spoke up. “It’s my uncle. He’s very sick. Can you help him?”

The doctor, a fringe of blond hair ringing his sunburned scalp, his eyes as blue as the brightest sky, his damp white cheeks looking as if someone had painted large red circles on them, knelt down next to Hiep and took his pulse. Then he pried Hiep’s eyelids open with his fingers.

“How long has he been like this?” he asked.

Mai looked at Tuan, afraid to answer. Finally, she said, “Several days. But we didn’t know he was so sick.”

The doctor nodded and barked some orders through the opening in the partition. The tiny woman they had first encountered came out. “Make up a cot for this man.”

The woman nodded and scurried off to obey his orders.

“Can you help me carry him to the back? He’s seriously dehydrated.”

Tuan nodded and grabbed Hiep’s shoulders. The doctor lifted Hiep’s feet and together they carried Hiep to a small canvas cot in a partitioned area where the woman was busy preparing a syringe. The doctor covered Hiep with a lightweight blanket, swabbed Hiep’s arm with alcohol, and injected some medicine into his veins. Mai watched as he wiped the area with alcohol again.

“This may help him. He’s very sick. Tell me what happened.”

Mai proceeded to relate the events of the last few days—her uncle’s fatigue, the pain in his right side, and the nausea and vomiting. Tuan watched, taking in every word.

“We’ll have to keep him here overnight. If he hasn’t improved by morning we’ll have to send him over to the hospital on the mainland. He hasn’t had any convulsions, has he?” Mai gave him a puzzled look.

The doctor explained. “If his brain starts to swell, it can cause him to lose control of his body and shake all over. That is not a good sign.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Mai answered, still not sure what a convulsion was. She wanted to ask the doctor what had happened to Hiep, why was he sick. Was it something he had caught? But she waited, self-conscious, frightened, chewing the fingernail on her left thumb. She had never spoken to a doctor before.

She was afraid to say anything about Sang’s ghost. She knew the doctor wouldn’t believe that a ghost could have caused Hiep’s illness. But that was because he was American. If you were Vietnamese, you would know that the wandering ghosts caused lots of bad luck.

“He appears to have hepatitis. Jaundice. Yellow skin and eyes caused by the liver starting to fail.”

Mai summoned her courage and interrupted in a whisper. “How did he get it?”

“It’s a water-borne disease. The drinking water here isn’t very clean. We’ve had a lot of these cases. We’ll keep a close eye on him.”

The confidence in the doctor’s voice did not dull the pain in Mai’s chest and she began to cry, covering her face, embarrassed at her outburst.

Wiping her tears away with the backs of her hands, she asked, “Can I stay with him?”

Before the doctor could answer, Tuan interrupted. “I’ll stay with him. You go on back to camp and rest.”

The doctor nodded in agreement. “I think it would be better if your friend stayed with him.”

Mai hated to leave Hiep. Maybe she could just sleep outside the tent so she could check on him once in a while. Sang’s ghost could have followed them to the clinic.

As if he could hear her thoughts, the doctor said, “You can stay for a while, but he really needs to sleep.”

Mai knew the doctor would be going back to the mainland after lunch and he wouldn’t know how long she stayed. She and Tuan walked over to see Hiep now resting peacefully on the cot, his arms folded across his chest.

“You’d better line up for food and then get back to camp and let them know we made it,” Tuan said, scratching his chin.

“I’m not going anywhere. I need to stay and look after Hiep.” The words came out of her mouth, not her heart, for she could still feel that dull pain running down the middle of her chest. She pressed her hand against her chest, trying to stop the pain.

“I’ll stay. It’s better if you go.” Tuan put his hand on her shoulder. He walked outside with her.

“No, you need to take the food back to camp. I’ll get mine and eat right here. I’ll come back later. I’m so grateful to you. I could never have carried Uncle Hiep here.” Mai could feel the tears ready to come again and she willed them back. She didn’t want to show him how weak she was.

“I’ll come and check on you this evening,” Tuan said. Bowing, he reluctantly walked away from her and over to the food line. She sighed. He was so handsome with his high cheekbones and finely chiseled chin, and he was as kind as he was handsome.

She sat down on the hard sand, pressing her back on the hot canvas tent. She was sure that Sang’s ghost had finally succeeded in punishing Hiep and he was not going to get better.

The tigers.

“Tuan, Tuan,” she called.

Tuan turned around with a puzzled look on his face and retraced his steps. “What’s the matter, Mai?”

“I have a favor to ask. Could you go in our tent and bring the tiger pictures by our hammocks? I need them right away.”

“Of course, Mai.” Tuan hurried back to the food line before he missed his turn.

Mai could tell that Tuan didn’t understand her request, but she didn’t want to explain. She would hang the tigers on the tent wall next to Hiep’s cot. Maybe that would work.

She looked around at the clusters of men, women, and children lined up for the noon food. The men stood without talking, their empty hands dangling by their sides, their eyes averted as if they were embarrassed to be waiting for a handout. The women’s voices had a singsong sound as they called to their children, who played in the sandy earth at their feet or darted in and out of the line, unaware of the desperation of their circumstances.

Mai’s stomach rumbled but she ignored it. She’d just lie here and rest, she thought to herself, curling up in a shady spot outside where the tent cast its shadow on the ground, all her energy evaporated. The sand was cooler here, and she could feel a breeze starting to come in from the ocean. The leaves rustled in the nearby jungle. The voices around her melded into a single drone as her head touched the sand and she stretched out her aching limbs. Inside the clinic, she could hear the doctor giving directions to the nurse, something about keeping an eye on Hiep. A fly landed on her nose and tickled it. She was too tired to brush it away. A pair of men’s feet walked by her, attached to hairy legs, followed by two pairs of children’s bare feet, caked with dirt, their tiny toenails black as the earth.

At first she thought someone had spilled a bucket of water on her. She moved to get out of the way, but the water poured down harder and faster as the wind swirled around her. When she opened her eyes, the sky seemed to descend to the earth, angry and dark, spilling sheets of warm torrential rains.

Mai turned her parched mouth to catch the drops pounding on her, too tired and depressed to move. The monsoons had arrived.