The children were lined up by numbers once again. A man looked at the information on Tuyet’s wrist band and wrote something onto a form. Next, someone with a camera took her picture, but this time it didn’t flash. Tuyet watched with curiosity as a piece of paper came out of the camera. The man held it up to her and smiled. It was a picture of a sad-looking girl.
“That’s you,” said Linh.
Tuyet blinked in surprise. She had never seen a picture of herself before, and there were no mirrors in the orphanage. Did she really wear her sadness on her face for all to see?
Tuyet watched the man glue the picture onto the information form.
Next, she was taken to a room with rows of iron beds. Children, some of them crying, occupied the beds. More adults stood by, dressed in white.
5-2 — Medical staff examine a baby at Surrey Place
A man sat Tuyet on a bed, listened to her chest, and looked inside her mouth with a flashlight and a stick. He held her hair up and looked into her ears. Then he used a little hammer to tap her good knee. He looked at her weak knee and foot, but he was so gentle, it didn’t hurt at all. He wrote something on her information sheet.
Next, he held her arm firmly and pressed a metal contraption on it. Bang. Tuyet jumped.
“All done,” said the man in Vietnamese.
Tuyet looked down at the place on her arm where the metal contraption had been, and saw a circle of little pinpricks. It didn’t hurt.
A man who was Vietnamese came to the room and took her by the hand. Tuyet had been so focused on what was happening to her that she had lost track of Linh. Now she looked frantically around the room.
“Do you know where Linh is?” she asked the man.
“Probably upstairs,” the man answered. “Once you’re finished with the medical examination, I’ll take you up to join her.”
The rest of her examination didn’t take long. The man took Tuyet out of the room and into the hallway, where he stopped in front of two metal doors.
“This is an elevator,” he said. “Quicker than stairs.”
The doors opened and they both stepped inside a small room. The doors closed. Tuyet could feel panic rise in her stomach, but the man was calm and the door opened quickly again. They stepped out into a big room, where metal beds and bassinettes were arranged in rows.
Linh sat on one bed, and she held a stuffed bear on her lap. “Tuyet!” she called. “Take this bed beside me.”
On the bed next to Linh sat a colorful stuffed doll with a plaid skirt and button eyes.
“Is that for me?” asked Tuyet.
“Yes,” the man answered and smiled down at her. “Each child gets a toy.”
5-3 — Toddler with new bear, Surrey Place
Tuyet reached for the doll. Then she remembered. Where was the doll she’d been given on the flight? It had felt so good to have something of her own. How could she have left it behind? Tuyet hugged the new doll to her chest. This one she would not forget.
Tuyet pulled herself up onto the bed beside Linh. The man brought each girl a glass of juice and a cookie. As Tuyet sat there, nibbling on the cookie and feeling the warmth of her friend by her side, she felt happy.
“This is not bad,” she said with a grin.
“I am pretty sure we won’t be staying here,” said Linh. “I think we will be given to families.”
Tuyet had heard about children getting new families. At the orphanage in Saigon, some of children were taken away. The nuns said they had gone to new families. But none of the children ever came back to tell the others what happened next. Did the new families feed them? Did they make them do chores? Tuyet didn’t know. She looked around the room and took a deep breath. It could be worse. This place was clean and bright, and there were no sounds of war.
Tuyet thought about that woman and boy who visited her in the orphanage. Were they her family? She thought of the special boy at the orphanage. Was he her family, too?
She clutched her new doll and thought of the other doll and the rosary she had lost. Were families as replaceable as dolls and rosaries? Linh was now Tuyet’s only friend. Tuyet felt tears welling up inside her. Would Linh be lost to her now, as well?
“Will you promise to stay with me always?” Tuyet asked Linh.
“It is not up to us,” said Linh. “But I will try.”
“If they try to take you away from me, you can just say no,” said Tuyet.
Linh smiled. “Good idea.”
With that, Linh finished the last of her juice and cookie. She curled up on the cot and, hugging her new stuffed bear, closed her eyes.
Tuyet walked over to her own bed and sat down. Linh was already deep in an exhausted slumber. Even Linh did not need Tuyet. She felt so alone.
The women in white carried more babies into the room. Tuyet longed to help. In the airplanes, it had felt so good to prove that she was useful.
The babies looked clean and well fed. But as soon as the women put them into their own bassinettes, the babies began to scream.
Tuyet felt like screaming, too. The babies must be exhausted. Why were they crying?
As she stared at the babies, Tuyet suddenly realized the problem. When the babies were put to bed at the orphanage, they were always close enough to touch. Here, the babies were separated from each other. They weren’t used to being alone.
Tuyet stood up. She scanned the room to see if the man who spoke Vietnamese was still there, but he had left. She went up to one of the workers, a woman with yellow hair held in place with a pink elastic band.
Tuyet tapped the woman’s arm. “The babies,” she said. “They want to be close to each other.”
The woman stared back at Tuyet, her face blank. She didn’t understand Vietnamese.
Tuyet went up to Linh and shook her shoulder. Linh sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“The babies are upset,” said Tuyet. “They’re too far apart.”
Linh gave a huge yawn and stood up. “I guess we’ll have to show them.”
Tuyet smiled. She knew she could count on Linh to help her.
The two girls pulled blankets off the beds and laid them out in the middle of the floor. Tuyet picked up one of the crying babies. A care worker walked over to take the baby away from her.
Tuyet held up one hand. “No,” she said.
Linh picked up another baby. They placed the babies on the blanket so close that they were touching. The babies stopped crying. Tuyet and Linh picked up two more babies and placed them on the blanket, so close to the others that they, too, were touching. Those babies stopped crying, as well.
One of the workers smiled in understanding. “Come,” she said to the others. “Let’s get these babies together so they can get some sleep.”
Once the babies and toddlers were asleep, the room seemed unnaturally quiet to Tuyet. All her life, she had been surrounded by noise.
“Can I sleep beside you on your cot?” Tuyet asked Linh.
“I would like that,” said Linh.
In no time, the two exhausted girls were fast asleep.
In the morning, the workers turned their efforts to Linh and Tuyet. Each had to give up her clothing. They had a shower in a white-tiled bathroom that smelled of antiseptic. After the shower, they came out, shivering, and were wrapped in towels. The workers gave them each a pair of pants, a sweater, socks, and a small white cotton item.
“What is this?” Tuyet asked Linh, holding up the small bit of cotton.
“Underwear,” said Linh. “You put it on underneath your pants.”
The thought made Tuyet giggle. It seemed so unnecessary. At the orphanage, Tuyet had never worn such a thing, just the pajama-like top and drawstring bottoms. She shrugged and put on the underwear. She guessed she would have to get used to more strange Canadian customs.
Tuyet’s pants and sweater fit well enough, but she couldn’t get the socks to stretch over her weak foot. Linh got shoes, but none fit Tuyet, so she left her feet bare.
Over the next few days, everything settled into a routine. It reminded Tuyet of the orphanage. There were no lessons or chapel, and no one rapped Tuyet’s knuckles with bamboo, but eating and sleeping and washing and playing were done to a schedule.
Was this what her life would be like from now on? Tuyet didn’t mind. She had the babies to help with. She had her friend Linh beside her. No helicopters flew overhead. And there was no war.
But a few days later, just as she was getting used to the routine, everything changed. People came in—men and women who didn’t speak Vietnamese. Each couple took a baby away. Would all the babies be taken away? And once they were gone, where would she and Linh go? Would they be sent to another place filled with babies?
Then, one morning, it was Linh’s turn.
Tuyet watched in despair as a woman and man with kind smiles sat with Linh and talked to her with hand gestures. Linh grinned with joy. She did not use the word no. Linh glanced over at Tuyet and a look of concern clouded her face. She motioned to the man and woman that she would be back. Then she approached Tuyet.
“They want to be my new family,” she said.
“You promised you would say no,” said Tuyet. “I want you to stay here with me.”
“You’ll be getting a family, too,” said Linh. “No won’t work.” She hugged Tuyet. “I will never forget you.”
Tuyet didn’t hug Linh back. She pushed her away.
“Have a good life,” she said, limping over to hug one of the babies before Linh could see the tears in her eyes.
