As I prepared to leave work at noon on Saturday, Kham emerged from his office and handed me my first pay. “You keep busy out here,” he commented, before disappearing out the front door. It was not exactly a compliment, but I decided to take it as one.
I headed toward Wong’s Mercantile near the covered market. Catherine had asked me to join her dinner party that evening to celebrate Marguerite’s birthday, and I needed to purchase a gift.
“She’s distraught over turning thirty, so don’t mention her age,” Catherine had said. “And she hasn’t heard from Charles since he left for Luang Prabang, but it’s only been ten days. He likely isn’t there yet. For better or worse, she’s desperately in love with him. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be as unreliable as all the other men she’s seen.” A prolonged sigh had escaped her lips. “We’ve both had terrible luck in the romance department. Anyway, we must make her feel special. Julian invited André to come as well.”
As I hurried along, I thought of Catherine and Marguerite and the complicated nature of love. Perhaps it was destiny that decided who could steal our hearts away rather than it being a conscious choice. How else to explain Catherine’s affair with Monsieur Fontaine? Or my attraction to Bounmy? Thoughts of our date the next day preoccupied my mind.
Wong’s was nearly empty when I arrived. Maîtresse Durand had brought me there several times to help her purchase table favors and small trinkets for our Christmas Eve dinners. Wondrous things were crammed onto the floor-to-ceiling shelves—everything from writing paper, books, porcelain figures, toys, and cooking pots to embroidered tablecloths, jewelry, and ammunition for guns. Men’s and women’s clothing hung from racks in the back next to shoes and hats. Ever since I’d left the orphanage, the store had beckoned to me, but I’d resisted, not wanting to be tempted to indulge in frivolous purchases.
I drifted up and down the narrow aisles, drawn to a china plate with a pattern of blue lilies, a vibrant green silk scarf, and a white blouse with a delicate lace collar, but none of these items were within my price range. Returning to the front of the store, I scanned the glass case holding jewelry and hair ornaments, hoping to find something more reasonable. A tortoiseshell comb looked perfect for Marguerite’s luxurious tresses, which she often pulled back on one side. I would have loved one for myself, but I’d already dipped into my precious savings for new clothes.
As I paid for the comb, a deep voice said, “That must be for Marguerite.”
I spun around to find Julian standing behind me. He was dressed in white pants and a pale blue shirt, open at the neck. His hair was mussed, and a few stray tresses hung down over his forehead. I thought him almost too beautiful for a man, like a movie star or a model in one of Catherine’s fashion magazines.
“Yes. I hope she likes it,” I answered, tucking my package in my purse—one of Catherine’s old ones that she had given me.
“She’ll love it, I’m sure,” Julian said. “Would you mind helping me select something?” He gave me a rueful smile, undoubtedly thinking it endearing and irresistible. “I’m helpless when it comes to buying gifts for women.”
There was no polite way to refuse. “I saw some pretty scarves.” I led him down the aisle to the green silk wrap I’d admired earlier. “This would go nicely with her red hair.”
“Perfect.” He carried the scarf to the cashier as I followed behind, hoping to slip out before he could finish paying.
He turned to me, all smiles and good humor. “If you’re headed home, we could walk together.”
Since his arrival, I’d felt uncomfortable at home, trying as best I could to avoid him. It wasn’t hard given our vastly different schedules. Mali told me he and his friend André were out drinking late into the night, resulting in Julian sleeping in long past when I left for work in the mornings. Our paths had only crossed once, when I arrived home from my job as he was heading out for the evening. He’d greeted me warmly and asked about my new position. I’d wondered if he was gauging how long it would be before I earned enough money to move out.
Julian collected his package, and we strolled down the street in the afternoon heat. “It’s wonderful to be back in Vientiane after so long,” he said. “As I expected, nothing has changed.”
“I suppose not,” I said. “But I never saw much of the town growing up. We were only allowed to walk to school and church, with an occasional shopping trip with Maîtresse.”
He cleared his throat. “Was your life at the orphanage that sheltered?”
I stared straight ahead. “Yes. It was an unhappy upbringing.”
“Cat told me about your letter from Luang Prabang. I can’t understand the reasoning in keeping you from learning about your parents or trying to hide your brother from you.”
“I’ll find them somehow.”
“I’ve hardly seen you all week,” he said. “But I’ve been keeping rather late hours.” I offered no response, staring straight ahead. He chuckled. “André has led me astray once more.”
A response to this silly excuse for drinking and staying out half the night escaped me, and a long silence followed. He stopped under the shade of a monkey pod tree, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’ve been wanting to speak to you…that is, I mean, I want to clear up any misunderstanding.” He took a deep breath. “Cat thought you might have overheard us talking the other evening before dinner. She said you were on the stairs outside the salon.”
I bit my lower lip, unsure if I should lie and pretend to know nothing or confront him with his callous words. “I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but I did hear some of your conversation.”
He winced and stepped back, as if expecting me to slap him. “I said some incredibly stupid things that I deeply regret.”
I stared at the ground. “I didn’t realize Catherine hadn’t told you I’d be living in the house. If my presence bothers you, I’ll move somewhere else.”
“No. Please, no. You may not believe me, but I’m truly happy to share our humble abode with you. I’m so sorry if I made you feel unwanted.”
I met his eyes, uncertain of his intentions. All his arrogance had disappeared, and he seemed genuinely full of remorse.
“What I said was asinine and thoughtless. My only excuse is I hadn’t been sleeping, and I felt a little overwhelmed.” He glanced away, speaking almost in a whisper: “Life in Paris had become impossible.”
“Since leaving the orphanage, I’ve discovered many people are uncomfortable around the métis. We don’t easily fit in among the French or Lao.” The emotions I tried to keep carefully hidden bubbled up, closer to the surface than I’d realized. Tears welled in my eyes. “I don’t know who I am or w-where I belong.” A sob caught in my throat.
“Oh God, I’ve made you cry.” Julian handed me his handkerchief, then surprised me by taking hold of my shoulders and bending close to my face. “You’re such a lovely girl, Vivi. I don’t give a damn whether you’re a métisse or not. And you’re welcome to live with us for as long as you want.” My heart wavered under his penetrating gaze. “I’d like us to start over. Please forgive me, and let’s be friends.”
I offered a weak smile, stepping back from his grasp, worried someone might see us and wonder about the relationship. His apology seemed sincere, but could I truly trust him? “We can try,” I said at last.
He heaved a great sigh. “I won’t disappoint you again.”