Mai’s interview at Guam was more thorough than the one at Subic Bay. An army official and a translator were both present, but Mai spoke in English, which the army man noted on a file with Mai’s and Đêm Nguyệt’s names at the top. The man asked her what she did in Vietnam, and what she’d like to do in America.
“I have many jobs,” she said, telling them about her work at the Stardust Lounge, the Saigon Café, and the Binh Tay market. “I like giving manicures and pedicures the best.” She thought back to Madame Thạc. Were there places like the Stardust in America? Would the American official expect her to be more ambitious? “I will also like to manage restaurant or nightclub.”
“You have big plans.” The army man smiled. “It’s good to dream.”
Mai arched her eyebrows, unsure what he was saying. He explained. “In order to go to the U.S. you will need a sponsor.”
Mai frowned. “What is this sponsor?”
“A friend, a relative, or maybe an organization that will look out for you. Help you get settled. Find a job. Make sure you have enough food and clothing to start out. Do you know anyone in the U.S. you could ask to be your sponsor?”
Mai immediately thought of Sandy. “I do.”
The official raised his eyebrows. “Really? Who?”
“A lieutenant in U.S. Army. Alexander Bowden. He was in Vietnam in 1968 and 1969.”
The official took a look at Đêm Nguyệt, with his light coloring and blue eyes. He didn’t say anything.
Mai knew what he was thinking. “He lives in Chicago. Rogers Park.” She still had problems with her “r’s sounding more like “l’s.”
“And he will vouch for you?”
She nodded.
“Do you have any kind of letter from him or other documentation that says that?”
“We had to leave Saigon quickly.”
The official nodded and wrote something in the file. “We’ll try to contact him.”
“Really?”
“We’ll try. But don’t get your hopes up.” He glanced at the file and cleared his throat. “I do have one piece of advice.” He paused. “Miss Nguyễn.”
“Yes?”
“If you’re willing to take any job available, we can get you there quicker.”
Again she was unsure what he was saying. Any job? Was he telling her to be a prostitute? She would not go to America if that was a condition. This time was going to be different. She eyed the man. What did he want to hear? He was waiting for her response. He looked sincere, not deceitful. Perhaps she did not understand. “I will work at anything. As long as it is permitted by the government. What is the word?”
“Legal.”
“Yes. Legal.”
The man made another note in the file. “Good.”
“What’re you writing down?” Mai asked.
“Don’t be afraid. We are making a file for you. So there is a record and everyone will know you are in the United States legally.” He emphasized the word.
She smiled.
In Mai and Đêm Nguyệt’s English class, the teacher gave them an ABCs coloring book and crayons. They studied the letters by singing the alphabet song they learned in Subic Bay. Mai realized she knew more words than she thought.
Over the next three months, despite the classes, manicures, and taking care of Đêm Nguyệt, there was time to reflect. Her thoughts invariably circled back to Sandy. She had survived the war. They were on their way to America. It had to be a sign. Surely this was the path Buddha wanted her to take.
Sandy was Đêm Nguyệt’s father. He would want to see his son. Any father would. Maybe when he did he would— No. She forced herself to stop. No more fantasies. And what about Anh Vinh? She loved him too. What would she do if he came back into her life? Whom would she choose? She honestly didn’t know.
One afternoon she was filling her laundry tub with water when a soldier offered to help her. She thanked him, then asked where he was from.
“Chicago.”
Mai’s lips parted. Was this another good omen? “I know someone in Chicago.”
“Really.”
“His name is Alexander Bowden. He was a lieutenant in Vietnam in 1968.”
The soldier shook his head. “There are millions of people in Chicago. And thousands of soldiers from Chi-town.”
“Of course.” Mai chastised herself for her naivety.
“But Chicago is a great city. You would love it. People are straight shooters. You know, direct. And friendly. They’d give you the shirt off their back if you needed it.” He laughed. “There’s only one thing.”
“What is that?”
“The weather.”
“It cannot be any worse than Vietnam.”
“Well, there are no monsoons. And it never gets as hot as it is here.”
“That is good.”
“But we do get to twenty below zero.” He explained how cold it got in the winter. All the snow that fell. How it lined the streets from December through March. Then he told her about the Hawk.
“A bird?”
“The wind. It’s so bad sometimes it gets under your coat and hat and you get so cold you think the wind is clawing at your skin.”
Mai shivered. “Oh no.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll end up in Southern California like everybody else. You’ll love the weather there.”
But life had other plans for Mai and Đêm Nguyệt. After three months in Guam, they boarded a plane bound for Fort Indiantown Gap in Pennsylvania.
After changing planes in California, they landed in Pennsylvania at the end of August on a hot, hazy summer day. The Americans complained about the heat, but to Mai it was cool compared to Vietnam. They climbed onto a bus, and Mai kept her eyes glued to the window. Was she finally in America? She wanted to drink it in right away.
The shapes of trees were different, the color of the sky as well. The air was fresh and sweet compared to Vietnam, and the sunlight wasn’t as harsh. Most of all, she was astonished at the highways. Vietnam had one or two highways with two or three lanes. Here they were flying down a highway with four lanes dotted with yellow lines, all of them crowded with cars and trucks. How did they keep from hitting one another?
Fort Indiantown Gap, in the south-central part of the state, was smaller than Subic Bay, but the U.S. military made sure that, like the other refugee camps, they had ample food, temporary housing, English classes, and cultural training. This time, Mai and Đêm Nguyệt were assigned to barracks with other mothers and their children. The room was divided into two sections of bunk beds and a section of single beds in the middle. Đêm Nguyệt promptly climbed to the top of one bunk. “I want this bed, Mama,” he said.
“Of course.” Mai smiled.
It had been four months since they’d fled Vietnam; four months of feeling unanchored and stateless; Mai was more than ready to start her new life. But she had to be patient. Several charitable organizations were working to find sponsors and cities where refugees could be resettled. “Catholic Charities, for example, is working hard to find you a new home,” one of the counselors told her. “You could be resettled anywhere.”
She was interviewed twice by yet another team of officials who asked about her work experience. Didn’t these people have her files from the previous interviews? Apparently not. Once again she repeated her work history and her knowledge of English. This time she added that she would love to be moved to Chicago.
One of the officials raised his eyebrows. “Do you have friends? Or relatives there?”
Mai was a little savvier this time. “Not really, but soldiers keep telling me how much I’d like the city.”
“Your English is very good,” the official said.
In the end, she was glad she’d volunteered that information. At the end of October, she learned that a Catholic church in Chicago would sponsor her. Her head started to spin. Had they found Sandy? Did he know they were coming? Was he going to be their sponsor? She would find out soon. They would be on a plane in two days.