One of the aunties died at the beginning of 1972. Mai feared it was an omen of things to come, and the year’s events proved her right. Her most pressing worry was still money. She had a part-time job as a manicurist, but that alone wouldn’t make ends meet. Her salary at the Stardust had provided most of her income, but that was gone. Madame and Chú Thạc had left too. Rumor had it they moved back to a hamlet in the northeast where Madame Thạc grew up.
Mai combed the shopping district of Chinatown and Saigon’s central downtown, looking for hostess jobs. But the ones available paid less than the Stardust. Frustrated, she considered revisiting the Saigon Café, where she and Tâm had worked when they first arrived, but figured Cô Cúc would laugh her out the front door.
She went back to the Binh Tay market and walked the stalls, looking for work, but times were hard, and no one wanted to pay her what she and Đêm Nguyệt needed to survive. Her options were narrowing. Her situation was so dire that she had to sell the Vespa. She bought a used bicycle with the proceeds. She recalled how she and Tâm had bought bicycles when they first came to Saigon.
Only one profession would pay her the money she needed, but she refused to consider it. Depressed and hopeless, she crawled into bed and stayed there. Đêm Nguyệt, who was now walking, toddled in several times and climbed into bed next to her. “Play now, Mama?” he asked in toddler talk.
Her eyes filled and she held him close, whispering, “In a few minutes, son. Yes, we will play.” But then she wouldn’t get up and Nguyệt would toddle out to one of the aunties. After a few days, one of the aunties came in and sat on the bed next to Mai.
“You need to get up,” she said.
“Why?” Mai said in a dull tone.
“Đêm Nguyệt needs you.”
Mai didn’t move. “I have nothing to give him. I do not know how we will survive. I cannot get a job that pays enough.”
The auntie didn’t say anything for a while. “You know, Mai, I am not from Saigon. I lived in a village near Hue. I came here fifty years ago, when the French ruled Indochina.”
Mai rolled over.
“I was a beautiful young girl. Like many Vietnamese women. Like you,” she added.
Mai looked up.
“I was with a French officer for a year. His mistress. We had a child. But she died in infancy.” The auntie went on. “After that the officer did not want me anymore. I was alone. No money. No place to live. No job. I was desperate.”
Mai propped herself up on her elbow. “What did you do?”
“There is no shame in any work when survival is at stake. All of us have been desperate at some point in our lives. You have a son. You do what you must do. For him.”
They looked at each other for a moment. Then Mai sat up and embraced the auntie.
“Thank you, Auntie.”
The auntie nodded. “I will tend to Đêm Nguyệt when you work.”
And so Mai began work as a prostitute. She started in downtown Saigon and went to the hotel that Madame had suggested years ago for bar girls who set up trysts with soldiers. The Stardust was not the only GI bar that had closed, and the hotel’s business had fallen off. They agreed to Mai’s request for a lower room rate. Once that was negotiated, she focused on a radius of streets around Tu Do Street, guessing that American GIs who still came downtown would flock to the restaurants, fancy hotels, and expensive shops. Eventually the soldiers would take a stroll. When they did, they would find brothels filled with available Vietnamese women.
But Mai didn’t want to be tied down to one bar. Many of the girls did drugs along with the soldiers, like Hạnh. There were men, too, she learned, who found customers for the girls and took a cut of their money in return. She didn’t want to split her earnings with anyone. After inspecting the area around the hotel carefully, she chose the corner of Tu Do and Lam Son, which was a few yards from the better restaurants and clubs, as her turf.
If she was going to make it on her own, she had to be better than, or at least different from, the other girls. The Vietnamese called whores “Butterflies of the Night,” and Mai was determined to be the most beautiful butterfly. She took pains to look attractive and stylish. No trashy or sloppy clothing. Her hair was scented, her makeup and nails flawless. Her outfits were seductive but carried with them a flair of elegance.
Like the other women, she would demand payment in advance. But some girls ran a racket where they took their customers’ money and disappeared before having sex. She would explain she was not that kind of woman. Her customers would be with her from the moment they paid until they left her afterward. As for her price, the going rate, including the hotel, was about 9,500 đồng, or 18 dollars American. Mai charged 12,500, or 24 dollars. If her customers were American, she could make her goal of 50,000 đồng a night with fewer tricks.
A light rain fell on her first night on the streets, but it didn’t affect the crowd. Plenty of Vietnamese men approached her, but she either looked the other way or shook her head. She watched their reactions. Some, hostile at her rejection, hurled insults at her. Others just shrugged. She inhaled the wet but surprisingly pleasant scent of rain on the concrete sidewalk and prayed for an American to pass by.
But few GIs were out tonight, and those who were already had girls hanging on their arms. She remembered when Madame Thạc opened the club to Vietnamese men in addition to Americans. It was clear she would have to do the same.
A few minutes later, when an older, slightly drunk Vietnamese man approached her, she forced a smile. When she told him her price, he stumbled backward and waved her away.
“Con điếm!”
It was Mai’s turn to shrug.
Eventually an Asian man in Western clothes came up to her with a broad smile. She returned it, and he asked in Vietnamese, “How much?”
When she told him, he looked her up and down. “You better be worth it.”
Mai suppressed the impulse to retaliate in kind, took his arm, and giggled. She was supposed to pretend she found him irresistible. Together they rounded the corner and headed to the hotel.
Mai hadn’t had sex since Sandy left, but she did manage to get birth control pills through the aunties. The room looked clean but was tiny, with a single bed and a window that looked onto a brick wall. She sat on the bed, unsure what to do next.
“Would you like to watch?” She gestured taking off her clothes.
“Do it now. Quickly.”
She did. She didn’t realize how embarrassed she would be to stand in front of a stranger totally naked. She felt so self-conscious that she almost ran from the room. Then she thought of Đêm Nguyệt. She turned to face the man and gritted her teeth. “How do you like your women?”
He didn’t reply but unzipped his pants and started to masturbate. Mai forced another smile. “Let me do that.”
He kept going. “Shut up and lie down.”
When she was on the bed he threw himself on top of her. He shoved himself inside. He smelled like day-old sweat, with rancid breath. Fortunately, ten seconds later he was done.