Check it out, ése. You know this story? Yeah, over at Sanitary Supply they always tell it. This dude drives up, drives up to Sanitary. Makes a pickup like always. You know. Paper towels. Rags. Mop handles. Gallon of Windex. Stuff like that. Drives up in a Toyota pickup. Black shiny deal, all new, big pinche wheels. Very nice. Yeah. Asian dude. Kinda skinny. Short, yeah. But so what? Dark glasses. Cigarette in the mouth. He’s getting out the truck, see. In the parking lot. Big tall dude comes by with a gun. Yeah, a gun. Puts it to his head and says, GIMME THE KEYS! It’s a jacker. Asian dude don’t lose no time, man. No time. Not a doubt. Rams the door closed. wham! Just like that. Slams the door on the jacker’s hand. On the jacker’s gun! Smashes the gun! Smashes the hand. Gun ain’t worth shit. Hand’s worth even less. Jacker loses it bad. He’s crying. Screaming. It’s not over. Asian dude swings the door open. Attacks the jacker. Pushes him up to the wall of Sanitary and beats the shit out. Dude don’t come up to the jacker’s nose. But it don’t matter. Got every trick in the books. Bruce Lee moves. Kick. VAP! WHOP! Damn. Don’t mess with this man. By now Sanitary’s called the police. Crowd’s seen it all. Jacker’s a mess. Blood everywhere. Never seen so much blood. But not a drop on the Asian. Not a drop. Never took off his shades. Never even stopped smoking. Turns over the jacker’s remains to the police. Don’t say nothing. That’s it. Goes into Sanitary. Picks up the mop handles, Windex, rags. Gets in the pickup. He’s gone. That’s it. That’s it.
That’s Bobby. If you know your Asians, you look at Bobby. You say, that’s Vietnamese. That’s what you say. Color’s pallid. Kinda blue just beneath the skin. Little underweight. Korean’s got rounder face. Chinese’s taller. Japanese’s dressed better. If you know your Asians. Turns out you’ll be wrong. And you gonna be confused. Dude speaks Spanish. Comprende? So you figure it’s one of those Japanese from Peru. Or maybe Korean from Brazil. Or Chinamex. Turns out Bobby’s from Singapore. You say, okay, Indonesian. Malaysian. Wrong again. You say, look at his name. That’s gotta be Vietnam. Ngu. Bobby Ngu. They all got Ngu names. Hey, it’s not his real name. Real name’s Li Kwan Yu. But don’t tell nobody. Go figure. Bobby’s Chinese. Chinese from Singapore with a Vietnam name speaking like a Mexican living in Koreatown. That’s it.
Bobby’s story. It’s a long story. Gotta be after hours for Bobby to tell it. And then, he might not. He was twelve. His brother eight. Dad had a bicycle business in Singapore. Mother dies. Business went bad. Can’t sell no more bicycles. Dad says, you wanna future? Better go to America. Better start out something new. For the family. You better go. Don’t worry about us. You start a future all new.
Bobby’s only twelve. How you get from Singapore to America? It’s 1975. People getting on boats, rafts, dinghies, anything, swimming south out of Vietnam. Get to Singapore, but Singapore don’t want them. They tell the Americans, it’s your problem. Put them in camps. Keep them there. Count them. Sort them out. Ask questions. Americans lost the war. Gotta take care of the casualties. Call them boat people. Call them refugees. Call for humanitarian aid. Call for political asylum. Meanwhile, they’re in camps. Singapore don’t want them. What’s America gonna do? Count them again. Sort them out. Ask more questions. Pretty soon refugees get put on planes. Little by little. Distributed to America.
Every day, Bobby gets up early. He and his little brother. Walk over to the camp. Gates open in the morning. Walk in. Stand around with the refugees. Eat with the refugees. Guards don’t notice. Who’s gonna notice? But he’s there every day. Maybe he belongs there. So maybe they notice. Bobby and his brother. Looking like orphans. Sad situation. Orphans everywhere. The war did this. Got to help the children. It’s the children who suffer. Bobby and his little brother don’t understand nothing. Don’t understand Vietnamese. Just get some language here and there. That’s all. Looks like they can’t talk. Why not? War does that. You can’t talk. Gets to be nighttime. Bobby and his brother go home. Slip out. Walk back into Singapore town. Go home and eat. Sleep. Get up early. Go back every morning. Spend the day sitting and eating with refugees. It’s like that every day. Every day for months. That’s it.
Then, pretty soon Bobby and the brother get counted. They get sorted. Get questions. Bobby’s gotta have a name. He says Ngu. Everybody’s Ngu. He’s Ngu too. He’s on the list. He’s counted. Brother’s counted, too. Get their pictures taken. Get some papers. American passports. Bobby’s dad gives him money. U.S. money. Saved from the black market. Hides it in his pants. Sews it there. It’s everything his dad can give. Money’s there. Ready. Just in case. Every morning, Bobby gets his brother up early. Every morning, they slip into the refugee camp. Every night they slip out. One night they do not come home. One night Bobby’s dad and the two sisters eat dinner. They leave two bowls out like always. They stare at the bowls. Silent. Staring at the two bowls.
Bobby’ll tell you this story. But only after hours. After some beers and lots of smokes. He don’t have time to tell stories. Too busy. Never stops. Got only a little time to sleep even. Always working. Hustling. Moving. That’s why he beat that guy up and never stopped. Just kept on going. Never stops smoking either. Gonna die from smoking. He can’t stop. Daytime, works the mailroom at a big-time newspaper. Sorts mail nonstop. Tons of it. Never stops. Nighttime got his own business. Him and his wife. Cleaning buildings. Clean those buildings that still got defense contracts. Bobby’s got clearance. Got it for his wife too. Go around everywhere. Dump the stuff that’s shredded. Wipe up the conference tables. Dust everything. Wipe down the computer monitors. Vacuum staples and hole punches and donuts out of carpets. Scrub the urinals. Mop down the floors. Bobby only stops for a smoke with the nighttime guard.
Bobby’s wife likes to study. She’s got a Walkman in her ears. Running the vacuum and the Walkman. It’s not music. She’s studying English. She’s Mexican. Bobby don’t teach her English. Speaks to her in Spanish. She’s got to learn by herself. She’s smart. Really smart. Got her degree at LACC. She told Bobby, janitors like them got to make better money. Got to get benefits. Some don’t even get the minimum. Can we live on $4.25 an hour? No way. She joined Justice for Janitors. Bobby got mad. This is his business. He’s independent. All the money is his. What’s she talking about? It’s solidarity she said. Some work for the companies. They need to organize. For protection. Bobby don’t understand this. He says he works the morning job and gets benefits. Why is she complaining?
Maybe this was the reason. Maybe not. Bobby got in an argument with his wife. So she split. She took the boy with her. Drives him crazy. He can’t see straight. Never been so happy as when he got married to that woman. Can’t explain. Happier he is, harder he works. Can’t stop. Gotta make money. Provide for his family. Gotta buy his wife nice clothes. Gotta buy his kid the best. Bobby’s kid’s gonna know the good life. That’s how Bobby sees it.
It’s not just the kid and the wife. Bobby’s gotta send money to his dad. Back in Singapore. Keep the old man alive. Wanted the old man to come to L.A., but he wouldn’t do it. Says he’s too old. Says Bobby’s got the future. All new future. And Bobby’s baby brother. He’s in college. Smart kid. Gets all A’s. Bobby put him in college. Pays for everything. Books, dorm, tuition, extras. Got him a car, too. Bobby don’t forget his baby bro. His carnalito. Don’t forget the kid cried every day when they arrived. Every day for two weeks. Cried for his mom who was already dead. Cried for his dad. For his sisters. Cried. Carnalito don’t cry no more. Bobby don’t forget.
Used to be, back in Singapore, Bobby had it easy. Dad had a factory. Putting out bicycles. Had a good life. Good money. Only had to go to school. One day, American bicycle company put up a factory. Workers all went over there. New machines. Paid fifty cents more. Pretty soon, American company’s selling all over. Exporting. Bicycles go to Hong Kong. Go to Thailand. To India. To Japan. To Taiwan. Bobby’s dad losing business. Can’t compete. That’s it.
But that’s the past. Everything had to change. Change like the seasons. Rainy season. Dry season. Rainy season’ll come again. Bobby’s working on it. Gonna flood with the rainy season. Gonna fly back to Singapore and see his dad. Gonna see his sisters. See his nephews and nieces. Gonna bring the kid bro and the family along, too. But he’s gotta get that woman back. Gotta bring the boy home. Can’t be happy without his family. Can’t work. Can’t keep running. Can’t keep fighting. After hours, Bobby keeps thinking. What’s he gonna do? Rafaela said he’s gotta stop smoking. That’s it.
After hours, Bobby goes home. House’s in Koreatown, edge of Pico-Union. Maybe it’s Koreatown, but he owns it. Stucco job with two palm trees in front. Nobody home. Just him. Woman said to stop smoking. That’s it. That’s the last cigarette. Boil some water. Get out the ginseng. Get a good piece of the root. Grind it up good. Hot water. Ginseng. Steam goes up just like the root. That’s the smell. Clean up the system. Clear the head. It’s an old root. Takes a long time to grow. Don’t waste it.