Mai didn’t expect to love her baby. She hadn’t wanted him. He was the reminder of a love affair gone bad, which made her by turns angry, sad, and lonely. Before he was born, she fretted that an infant would chain her to an endless routine of cooking, cleaning, and serving his needs. Like it had with her mother. True, she’d abandoned the idea of abortion when she felt him kick, but loving him? That was not going to happen.
But after Đêm Nguyệt was born, washed, and swaddled in a soft blanket, Mai couldn’t believe the wonder of him. She counted his fingers and toes dozens of times. Ran the tips of her fingers over his perfect lips, his eyebrows, his silky hair. The fact that she had produced this perfect, tiny being was a miracle. She remembered Sáng, her brother, and the joy with which her parents had greeted him. At the time she thought it was simply because he was a boy. Now she understood.
And this little miracle of life was hers. He might be the only person—she was loath to say possession, but if she was honest that’s what he was, at least for a while—that belonged to her. And no one else. More important, though, he needed her. He might have been the first person in her life who did. She vowed never to let him down. Never to let him think he was alone in the world, like she was. She would shower him with the love and affection she’d never felt. He would know he was wanted.
One of the aunties supervised her first breastfeeding, although Mai didn’t need much help. “You are in luck.” The elderly woman laughed. “Look how greedy he is for your nipple.”
Mai giggled when he sucked. After the surprise of the first time, it no longer pinched, and while he took in her milk he gazed up at her before he drifted off. That this tiny being was dependent on her for everything was not the burden she’d feared. In a strange way, it was an honor that had been bestowed on her. Meeting that honor would be the most important goal in her life going forward.
In a way, too, Mai felt like Sandy had come back. Every time she gazed at Đêm Nguyệt, she saw Sandy’s eyes and the shape of his chin. She still hated Sandy for abandoning them, but simply by dint of his birth, Đêm Nguyệt filled the hole in her heart that Sandy had carved out. In time, she might even forgive him. She dreamed of one day introducing him to his son. The chances of that were tiny; still, she imagined how it would go. Sandy would be overcome with fatherly love. He would beg Mai to let him come back so they could be a real family. She wasn’t sure what she would say, but she had fantasies of the three of them on a Harley, Đêm Nguyệt on her back, roaring through the streets of Saigon.
For the next three months, the baby was never more than a breast’s length away from Mai. One of the aunties cobbled together a baby carrier, a canvas bag with holes for his legs and straps that that tied around her waist. Mai was able to take him with her on the Vespa when she shopped, did errands, or went for a manicure at the market.
Manicures were now a weekly activity for Mai. They’d been a small, inexpensive way to spend thirty minutes lavishing attention on herself, but now that Đêm Nguyệt was here, she loved to watch the market women fuss and coo over him. He was a healthy, sturdy baby, they’d say. He would soon be strong and smart—look how much he’d grown in just a week’s time.
One day Mai put on her best jeans and a tank top and made sure her hair and makeup were perfect. Then she and Đêm Nguyệt rode over to the Stardust nightclub for a visit. Though barely six months had passed, Chú Thạc was behind the bar as usual, a little heavier, perhaps, and grayer at his temples. He looked tired but greeted her profusely.
“Everyone always asks about you, Mai. The GIs want to know when you’re coming back.”
Mai smiled. “Please thank them, Chú Thạc. I will return soon, I hope.” Then she introduced him to Đêm Nguyệt. Chú Thạc rolled his index finger under the baby’s tiny fingers, which Đêm Nguyệt promptly grasped. Chú Thạc stifled a smile and said solemnly, “It is an honor to meet the son of Linh Mai.”
Mai smiled. “No. It is my honor to introduce you to him.” She paused. “Is Madame Thạc in the kitchen?”
Chú Thạc shrugged and motioned to the back. As Mai entered the kitchen, Madame Thạc glanced up from the snacks she was counting out for the tables.
Madame Thạc arched her brows and tightened her lips. “So you ready to come back?” she said as if Mai had been gone only a few days, not six months. The woman gave only a passing glance to Đêm Nguyệt. A spit of irritation came over Mai. Then again, a baby was not a revered object at the Stardust. It represented a failure. A mistake. At the very least, human carelessness. Mai was that human.
“I am ready. How are you, Madame?” As soon as she asked, she wasn’t sure she should have. Like Chú Thạc, Madame looked tired, Mai thought. Frazzled.
Madame sighed. “I do not know anymore.”
“Why? Tell.”
“Our customers have changed. The GIs are different. They do not care anymore. Not the way they used to. They are reckless. I know they do drugs in the alley. Then they drink on top of the drugs. It is to forget. Not to be happy. They tell us what the Viet Cong do to enemy prisoners.” She shook her head. “The stories paint such horror, they say they will kill themselves rather than become NVA prisoners. We are in a dark place.”
Mai kept her mouth shut. Đêm Nguyệt started to fuss in his baby carrier. Mai ran her fingers through his hair, which had thickened since his birth.
Madame Thạc, perhaps realizing she had said too much, forced a smile. “But maybe you can help when you come back. They love you, Mai.” When her lips parted, Mai spotted an empty space where a tooth used to be. Mai didn’t comment on it. Instead, she asked, “How is Hạnh?”
Madame Thạc let out a breath and shook her head again. “She does drugs with the soldiers.”
Mai stepped back, surprised. “How? Why?”
“A new boyfriend. She is high every night. When she works. Ever since you left, she has been—unreliable. I want to fire her. But I decided to wait until you were back. Maybe you can . . .” Madame Thạc’s voice trailed off.
“We did not part on good terms. But I will talk to her.” She changed the subject. “Business is good?”
Madame sighed again. “It is all right. For how long, I do not know. The U.S. will begin to pull out their soldiers soon. I do not like it, but I understand. Like I said, the Americans do not care. They are afraid of being captured by Viet Cong. Or getting malaria in the jungle. I am happy you are coming back. Perhaps you will lighten their spirits.”