The next morning Mai set out on her Vespa for Bien Hoa Air Base, about twenty-five kilometers from Saigon. As she cleared the city and the shanties of the close-in suburbs, the Vespa kicked up a familiar fine red dust. It was the dust that coated the roads and fields back home. It even seeped into their hut at home, and it had been Mai’s job to sweep the floor every afternoon. A swell of homesickness washed over her. Almost a year had passed since the death of her family and her escape to Saigon. She recalled Tâm saying they’d never had the time to grieve. On that particular subject, her sister had been right. Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled to the side of the road to collect herself.
A few moments later a sign said she’d arrived at the front gate of the Bien Hoa Air Base. The major base for the U.S. Army during the war, it was huge, sprawling across hundreds of acres. In addition to the army, the air force, navy, and marines stationed units there as well. This airfield was base camp for Sandy.
A couple of GIs walking by the gate slowed and stared at her but eventually went back to their conversation. She talked to the MP at the gate and explained why she was there. The MP stared at her. Sandy had told her that because of the base’s size and its nearness to Saigon, Viet Cong attacks were frequent. During Tết, Sandy said, Charlie would shoot soldiers from the shanties across the street. Did the MP Mai had just passed think she was the enemy?
“Please, sir. I really need to find out where my fiancé is. He was supposed to send me an airplane ticket to Chicago.” She bit her tongue. “Please.”
Finally, the MP gave her a brief nod and gave her directions to the check-in hut. Mai thanked him profusely and started to wheel the Vespa inside the front gate. “That stays here,” the MP said. She nodded, leaned it against the fence, and walked inside.
Another soldier jogged by.
“Hello. Please, can you help me?”
He slowed.
“Where is check-in?”
He motioned to a wooden building about a hundred meters from the gate. “They’re supposed to have a master list of everyone. Update it every day.”
She nodded.
He squinted. “Good luck.”
She walked to the wooden building. Several loud helicopters began to growl. They weren’t close, but their noise was deafening. She shaded her eyes and watched as they rose into the air, dust clouds swirling. No sooner had their clatter receded when she heard the roar of several planes that, one after another, thundered down the runway and took to the sky. Moments later, the smell of jet exhaust, hot and tangy, drifted over.
Mai climbed two steps up to the door. It was unlocked. She pushed through. A GI in a khaki uniform lounged behind a battered gray metal desk. Although the noise outside was piercingly loud, it didn’t seem to disturb him. He was deep into a book. She couldn’t see the title, wouldn’t have known it anyway. She could speak English. Reading it was another matter.
“Excuse me, sir.”
He looked up and appraised her. She was holding her helmet in one hand. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. A knapsack hung from her shoulders. But she’d applied makeup and polished her nails.
“Chào em,” he replied in Vietnamese.
She answered in English. “Good morning.”
He cleared his throat and switched back to English. “What can I do you for?”
“I’m looking for a GI. Alexander Bowden. He a first lieutenant. Can you tell me where to find him?”
“Give me a minute.” He got up and went behind the desk, where a door led to an office. The door was closed. A painted sign on a wood plank hung above the door, but she couldn’t read it. A second soldier, beefy but short, in green fatigues, opened the door and headed toward Mai. The first soldier followed him.
“I’m Captain Shepherd. I hear you’re looking for Lieutenant Bowden.”
“Yes, please,” she said.
He cocked his head, then shook his head. “He shipped out a couple days ago. He’s on his way home.”
Mai froze. “That’s not possible.”
“I walked him to the airfield myself. He applied for early release.”
“What is early release?” She still had trouble with the “r” sound. She was embarrassed.
“It’s approval to leave a month ahead of schedule. There was something about a college semester that he needed to register for.”
“No. He is my fiancé. He was supposed to . . .” Her voice trailed off, and her hand flew to her forehead. Sandy had run out on her. He hadn’t even said goodbye. She stared at the captain. Then at the clerk. She had no idea what to say. She dropped her hand, turned on her heel, and ran out of the building.
Mai never knew how she got back to Saigon. The tears started soon after she mounted the Vespa. She couldn’t see more than a meter in front of her, and, in retrospect, it must have been the Buddha who guided her back. She thought she was back in control when she parked the bike and climbed her stairs, but she collapsed when she reached her room. Tears flowed. For Sandy, for Tâm, her parents, little Sáng. Her world had shattered. For the second time in less than a year.
Was this the life she was destined to live? To be robbed of happiness just when she was almost able to reach out and touch it?
What was she doing wrong that the gods above, whoever they were, wanted to punish her? Was it possible she had been marked for misfortune by one of the evil spirits? That despite her mother’s name for her, Dirty Rabbit, it hadn’t kept them away? Or was it just this war, this horrific war, that had destroyed her family, her future, and her happiness? She thought she’d been doing all right. Embracing her new life in Saigon. Working at the Stardust. Falling for Sandy. But now it was all falling apart. What was she doing wrong?
She didn’t know how long she cried, but she spent the next two days wrestling with what to do. She felt her belly. Whatever was inside, she didn’t want it. Sandy had no right to saddle her with this memory of him. If she was to be alone, she would make sure it was absolute. She would make an appointment with the doctor Madame Thạc had suggested.
But what if something went wrong? What if the doctor failed to take the “seed” out of her? What if he made a mistake? Would she survive? And what if she and the doctor were arrested? Abortions were illegal. Would they put her in jail?
There was always the chance that Sandy would send her a plane ticket. He was just getting home, registering for school. When he realized how much he missed Mai, he could decide he couldn’t live without her. And the baby. If she followed through and went to the doctor, she would lose the slim hope she was still grasping.
No. Sandy was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. She clutched a booklet he had given her one night. A Pocket Guide to Vietnam, it was a ninety-page booklet filled with advice and suggestions about dealing with Vietnamese customs, plus simple phrases in Vietnamese. They had laughed together about some of the advice, and she had taught him how to pronounce some of the phrases. It was the only reminder, the only tangible proof, that they had been a couple. She felt like tearing it to shreds, destroying it forever. She wanted nothing that would remind her of him. She would make an appointment with Madame Thạc’s doctor. And she would never allow another human being to hurt her again.