Sandy was often out in the field for a week or more, delivering and setting up armaments for various platoons. For a week Mai waited patiently for him to come back with an airplane ticket. But when he didn’t show up by the middle of February, she started to ask around. One night she spotted Freddy at a table with two other GIs.
She casually dropped by. “Hello, Freddy. How are you?”
“Mai. Don’t you look as pretty as a peach.” She looked down at him, conscious that the other men were checking her out. Did she spot a trace of pity in his eyes? He introduced her to the others and pointed to one. “This is Hank. He just got here. We’re giving him an orientation.”
She dipped her head, not making eye contact with either man.
“Will you sit with us?”
“Freddy, have you seen Sandy? Is he okay?”
Freddy suddenly became absorbed in his beer, as if it was the most interesting object on earth. His lips tightened. “No, Mai. I haven’t seen him.” He looked up. “He hasn’t been here?”
She shook her head. “Has—have you checked the KIA lists? Was he on one?” She knew GIs had access to the weekly lists the military produced of Americans who were killed in action.
“No. Nothing like that.”
“You know something that you’re not telling me.”
“No, Mai. I don’t. But if I see him, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”
She nodded and floated off.
By the third week fear and despair took turns tearing apart her soul. Fear that he was injured. Despair that he had left her. Every time the door to the Stardust opened, Mai watched who came in. When it wasn’t Sandy, which it never was, another pang of disappointment stabbed her. She lost her appetite. She didn’t sleep. She couldn’t think of anything else.
She began to ask every GI at the Stardust if they knew First Lieutenant Alexander Bowden. Most didn’t. Neither did the familiar faces she’d seen over the past year. No one could or would tell her anything.
“I am here every night. Please let me know if you hear something,” she said one night. She turned around to find Madame Thạc in front of her, hands planted on her hips. The woman pulled her aside. “You have been asking every soldier who comes in about this man, haven’t you?”
“He is my boyfriend. We are engaged.”
“Is that so. Where is your ring?”
“He—he said he will bring it the next time he comes in.”
Madame Thạc took in a breath. “Mai, you are one of my best girls, but you must stop asking about this man. Your behavior is bad for business. The soldiers want you, not a young woman who mopes around, constantly talking about another GI. Do you understand?”
Mai nodded miserably.
“Keep your feelings for your day off. When you are here, you must be the charming, beautiful hostess I took a chance on, although she was only fourteen.” The shadow of a smile passed across Madame Thạc’s face.
“You knew?”
“Of course I did. I also know you are pregnant.”
Mai stiffened. “How?”
“I’m a woman. I see the signs. The glowing skin. The clear eyes. The tiny bump. This is his baby?”
She nodded.
“It’s not too late to get rid of it.” Madame Thạc went on. “It’s not yet a baby. It’s—it’s like a seed that is growing. But more important, you can’t work here if you are pregnant. Men don’t want to see that. And this place is no good for you or your baby.” Madame Thạc pointed upward at the haze of smoke. “But I don’t want to see you go. So I’ll give you the name of a Chinese doctor. But you must keep it to yourself. It is illegal. I don’t want to see you—or the doctor—get into trouble.”
“Never!” Mai lashed out. “How can you even suggest such a thing? Sandy will be back. We’re going to be married. We’ll raise our child together.”
Madame Thạc looked like she might respond but bit her lip instead. She gazed around the room, then back at Mai. “See that young GI over there? Drinking by himself?”
Mai followed her gaze.
“You go over there and make him happy. Right now. We will finish this discussion another time.” She turned Mai around by her shoulders and gave her a little push in the soldier’s direction.
For the rest of the night, Mai felt self-conscious, certain that everyone was talking about her and her missing soldier boyfriend. And that she was pregnant. She knew other bar girls who had become pregnant by U.S. soldiers. Most were still in Vietnam with their children, their boyfriends long gone. But she and Sandy were special. Weren’t they?
How could he have left her? After all she’d done for him. How could he rip to shreds the fragile happiness she had glued together after the massacre? He couldn’t—wouldn’t—be that cruel. Waves of heat and then chills skimmed her body. He had told her many times how beautiful she was. How he wanted to be with her all the time. He’d even helped her shop for her Vespa. Her stomach knotted into a tight ball. Was it all a show? A way for him to casually pass the time? Where was he? It was the not knowing that was intolerable. If he wasn’t wounded or hurt, there was only one other conclusion: the only man she had made room for in her heart had abandoned her.