“Honey, please . . . I swear to God I’ll never, ever behave like that again,” Dan told her through the door.

  “You liar, you go away!” She gripped the iron rod tighter. Dan was no longer the gentle boy she’d known. Whatever he’d seen and done was rotting him.

  “Baby, I need you. I’m a wreck, you’re the only one who can help me. Please, would you help me?”

  She shook her head. As he broke into sobs, her grip on the rod eased. She slid onto the floor, tears rolling down her face. She recalled the first moment they met, the joyful memories they’d shared. With her blurry eyes, she saw her enemy: the war. It stood between her and Dan, like a gigantic monster. It was laughing at her, baring its teeth. If she gave up her fight, it would swallow her whole.

  She opened the door, sat down next to Dan and embraced him.

  After their tears had dried, he asked her to wash his hair. She understood the silent plea under his words. He needed her to wash away all the smoke and the death he’d seen underneath the blades of his helicopter. Wash away his sins.

  “Your helicopter down? What happen?” she caressed the big scar on his leg.

  He nodded, then stared into the distance, unblinking.

  Several weeks later, she woke up, nauseated. She dashed into the bathroom and vomited.

  “Your stomach hurt?” Quỳnh’s voice said. She had come over for a bowl of late-night rice porridge, which Trang had served with salted white radish and century eggs; after the meal, the two sisters had curled up in bed, talking about old times, and Quỳnh had ended up spending the night.

  Trang gagged and threw up again.

  “It can’t be your delicious food, I feel fine.” Quỳnh lowered herself down next to Trang on the bathroom’s floor. Her brows knitted in concentration as she pressed her fingers against the main veins on Trang’s throat, under her jaws, as well as on her wrist . “Your pulse,” she gasped. “It’s racing. Oh Heaven and Earth!”

  Trang pushed herself up. She grabbed a towel and dried her face. “What?”

  “You’re pregnant, chị Hai.” Quỳnh cupped her mouth with her hands.

  “No, you’re wrong.” They’d always used condoms, but Dan had recently refused. He said he felt nothing with the rubber on. To avoid getting pregnant, Trang had started taking pills. But as Dan came by so rarely, she’d stopped the pills and washed herself after sex. She’d done it before. She hadn’t gotten pregnant. She couldn’t be pregnant now.

  “Oh Heaven, oh Earth.” Quỳnh’s face was pale, drained of blood. “I told you to be careful, didn’t I?”

  “Why are you so paranoid? Perhaps I’m sick with the flu or something. Besides, if I’m pregnant, Dan will take care of me. He loves me.”

  “You’re such an idiot! These American men, they only want sex. They want sex and nothing else, you understand?”

  “Shhh. You want the neighbors to hear?”

  “You’d better not be pregnant.” Quỳnh held up Trang’s wrist, pressing her fingers against Trang’s vein again. “Oh Heaven and Buddha,” she whispered, “I can see the blood vessels on your neck. I can read it in your pulse. You’re truly pregnant.” She buried her face into her palms and howled; her cries painful as those of an animal being butchered.

  Trang rushed to the sink and threw up.

  On the bed, she shook Quỳnh’s shoulder. “Em, don’t you think you might be wrong?”

  Quỳnh looked up, her eyes red. “I learned how to check a pulse from dì Vinh the midwife. She let me practice on her customers. I have no doubt you’re carrying a child, chị Hai. You’d better tell Dan about it.”

  Trang brought both hands to her stomach. A child? She hadn’t wanted it, but perhaps it was for the best. Dan had said he needed her. A child would help him forget about all the troubles of this world. During the previous months, whenever they went out, he’d often beamed at small children, complimenting them on how adorable they looked.

  “I’ll tell him soon.” She pulled up the blanket, covering Quỳnh’s chest and hers. “Let’s get some more sleep. I’m tired.”

  She closed her eyes. Dan might have become hot-tempered, but he cared about her. Since that big fight, he’d behaved better. She felt the warmth of a new life sprouting in her stomach. Her baby. Her baby would be beautiful, inheriting her and Dan’s best features.

  She couldn’t wait for Dan to come back, to tell him the fantastic news.

  Trang counted each minute, until six days later, when Dan appeared at the bar. She ran to him. “News, I have news,” she shouted above the music.

  He looked around, eyeing some soldiers.

  “Anh, you not hear me?” she tugged at his arm.

  “What?” He faced her. His hair was unkempt, his eyes were red and cloudy as if he hadn’t slept for days.

  “I have news. Good news.” She clutched his hand, pulling him outside.

  On the pavement, away from the bar’s entrance, everything was quiet. A peddler approached them, two baskets filled with mangoes and guavas dangling from a bamboo pole balanced on her shoulders. “Ai mua ổi mua xoài không?” she sang.

  Dan leaned against the brick wall, lighting a cigarette. She coughed, fanning the smoke away with her hand.

  He blew more smoke, eyeing a girl in a miniskirt who was walking past them.

  “Dan.” She waited until he turned back to her, then took his hand, placing it on her stomach. “Baby. We have baby, anh.”

  His eyes widened. “What the fuck?”

  “Baby. Em bé. I’m pregnant. We have child, anh.”

  He snatched his hand away from her stomach as if he’d touched a burning coal. He dropped the cigarette, grinding it slowly with the tip of his right shoe.

  “Your baby.” She reached for him.

  He lifted his head to look at her.

  She had anticipated this moment and imagined many possible reactions from him: he could be overjoyed; he could be cautious; he could be upset.

  Never had she imagined what happened next: she saw fear cross his face. As she stood there, stunned, he turned, and without a word, walked away from her.

  “What did he say?” Quỳnh asked when Trang returned inside. The bar was busy as usual; too many girls were drinking, chatting, and laughing, as if it wasn’t their own lives they were gambling with. How stupid of Trang to have placed all of her bets on Dan; how naïve of her to have believed in the wonders of love.

  Trang turned to her younger sister. The hope in Quỳnh’s eyes pained Trang; she realized how much Quỳnh had cared about her and wanted to protect her all along. With trembling lips, she faked a smile, avoiding Quỳnh’s gaze. She’d dried her tears and hoped Quỳnh wasn’t able to read her worry. “Oh, he’s very happy,” she said. “He assured me he’s going to take care of me and our child.”

  “You’re lucky, chị Hai.” Quỳnh let out a big sigh, embracing her. “Tell him you need money to prepare for the baby’s birth. If he doesn’t give you his dollars, ask for PX stuff. Radios and watches are selling well these days. And liquor.”

  Trang nodded. In the beginning, Dan had given her a few things from the military post exchange, but he hadn’t brought her anything for a long while. Standing in Quỳnh’s arms, Trang rested her tired bones against her sister and wished to travel back in time, to the days when she sat with Quỳnh under the banana plants waiting for their father. At least the waiting had been filled with hope.

  She didn’t know what to do. In no case would she end her pregnancy: this baby was the fruit of the love between her and Dan. She had to nurture that love.

  Dan might be upset because the news was so shocking. When she saw him next, she’d say she didn’t need extra money from him. She’d continue to work until she was ready to give birth.

  She told herself that everything would be all right, but something twisted in her stomach. Since the incident with the chair, she’d replaced the altar and bought a new statue, but every time she prayed, she sensed the Laughing Buddha was no longer listening.

  Three days later, she came home to find an envelope on the table. Only Dan and her sister had other keys, and Quỳnh had been with her all day. The envelope was stuffed with money. Money, but not enough for the time she’d spent with Dan. She waited one week, and then two. She went out to Tân Sơn Nhứt, but the guards wouldn’t let her onto the base. She understood it now: Dan was too much of a coward to face her.

  Back at the apartment, she sat staring at her stomach. She realized that her involvement with Dan, just like his country’s involvement in Việt Nam, was a mistake. Both caused irreparable damage, leaving the Vietnamese to clean up the mess.

  She lifted the mattress, and as she touched the envelope Dan had left behind that she’d hidden there, she flinched. These American bills were the reason that women like her were despised. She’d sold herself for these dollars and now they no longer meant anything. She lit her stove, wanting to burn the money, but extinguished the flame. She would need it to take care of her baby.

  War and Peace

  Hồ Chí Minh City–the Mekong Delta, 2016

  Dan pulled the duvet to his chest. It was morning. Linda was sitting on the other side of the bed. She’d been up for ages writing postcards to her friends and reading her guidebook. It must be the jet lag. They hadn’t talked since leaving Phong in the lobby and returning to their room the night before. He was relieved she was no longer accusing Phong of scamming them into helping him get to America. And she was no longer threatening to go back home.

  Yesterday, when she left him at the post office, he’d hurried after her, but she’d refused to look at him. She didn’t talk to him in the hotel elevator. Once inside the room, however, she had yelled, “You asked Thien about GI kids and guess what? One shows up and tells you what a hard life he has. He looks poor, and he wants to go to America. It’s a scam. They want to take advantage of you!”

  He’d tried to convince her that Phong sounded genuine, but she asked whether he knew enough Vietnamese to understand what was really going on. She brought up Kim and challenged him about honesty and truth. As she wept, he gave her Edith Hoh’s business card. “Your Dr. E. . . . She told us to call in case of a crisis, remember? If this isn’t a crisis, I don’t know what is.”

  Linda dialed the number straight away. It was already 10:15 p.m. in Seattle but Dr. Hoh was both patient and helpful. She listened to them both, advised them to keep talking to each other. She told Linda it wasn’t uncommon for veterans to conceal their past; one of her clients had discovered her husband’s Vietnamese child only after the husband had passed away. Dr. Hoh made Dan promise to be honest with Linda from then on and to have Linda’s agreement on decisions regarding his search for Kim.

  They talked for over an hour, and Linda gradually calmed down enough to agree to continue the city tour in the afternoon, and to meet Phong in the evening.

  Dan curled his body into a fetal position inside the duvet. He wished he could have talked to Phong more, but he’d promised Linda to speak to him only in her presence. What a terrible life Phong had had. He hoped Kim hadn’t left his child outside an orphanage somewhere.

  When Phong mentioned his longing for his father, he’d wanted to pull the younger man into his arms. He’d been afraid that his child would blame him, but he saw in Phong so much yearning, hope, and determination that overwhelmed any blame.

  He needed to talk to Phong again, see what he could do to help—maybe he could share Phong’s story with his veteran friends, some of whom were connected to other vets online. What a pity he didn’t have Phong’s phone number, otherwise he could ask a hotel staff member to arrange for another meeting and help translate for the conversation. Thiên sucked as a translator; he was being a jerk and it had been clear the guy wasn’t translating parts of the conversation and Phong had looked frustrated.

  The clock on the bedside table now showed 7:18 a.m. Linda started texting on her phone. She must be telling her friends about the fights she’d had with him. Those women must be cursing him for ruining her holiday. He closed his eyes and turned his back to her. Regardless of Linda’s admonitions, he intended to go ahead with his search. There was no way he’d allow her to control his life. If she worried about ads in newspapers and on TV, he’d go for DNA testing; it’d be more private.

  Dan wished it was still night so he could get some more sleep. His body ached. He could feel the imminent attack of a headache. He reached for the bottle of water he’d left on the bedside table.

  “All that time I was thinking he was a scammer, but he didn’t even take the money I tried to give him,” Linda suddenly said.

  He choked on the water, and coughed to clear his airway. He turned to her. “You mean Phong?”

  She nodded. “I told Jenna about him and she sent me some links to articles about GIs’ kids. So I did some more research—”

  “What did you find?” He sat up.

  She gave him her phone. On the screen was an article published in the Washington Post, entitled “Legacies of War.” As he read, his eyes teared at the story of Võ Hữu Nhân finding his American family after forty-six years; he learned about Amerasians’ struggles. The article ended with a story of an Amerasian man, Nguyễn Thành Trung, who said that if he ever found his father, he would ask just one question: “Why did you leave me here?”

  Dan stared at the question. If he told his child he had just been twenty years old, scared as hell, would his child forgive him?

  Linda moved closer and they looked at more stories online, so many stories: Of Amerasians’ desperate search for their parents, of fathers rejecting their Amerasian children, of American vets traveling back to Việt Nam to find their kids, of happy reunions, of heartbreaks.

  As he read, he hoped for a glimpse of light that would lead him to Kim and his child. But there was nothing about the Hollywood Bar nor the two sisters who’d worked there. From the phone, strangers stared at him; strangers who could well be his family.

  He couldn’t believe he’d ignored this for so long. Over the years, sometimes it had crossed his mind that he should search the internet. But he’d resisted the urge. He’d buried the past and decided that it would cause him more pain to dig it up again. He’d tried to convince himself that Kim and his child were better off without him, and that the child wasn’t even his.

  “This whole thing is so messy.” Linda pulled up an article. “Have a look . . . It’s about a woman who didn’t want to be found. Her family was destroyed because her GI came back looking for her. She was married and hadn’t told a soul about her past.”

  Dan had imagined the family Kim had, and her children, but not the consequences his search for her might bring. What if Kim wanted nothing to do with him? What if he could crash the life she’d worked hard to rebuild by finding her?

  A ding on the phone. “That’s probably Jenna.” Linda took her phone back. She read the message, then looked up. “She wants to give us some money so we can buy some books and clothes for Phong’s kids.”

  The hotel’s phone rang. Dan reached for the receiver.

  “Good morning, Sir . . . I’m calling from reception,” a male voice said. “Mr. Thiên is here. He would like to talk to you alone, without Madam. He asks if you can come downstairs.”

  “I’ll be there right away.” Dan put the phone down. Yesterday morning, when Thiên said he would quit, Dan had snickered. He hated the guy, and felt glad never to see him again. But in the afternoon, as they continued the city tour, he could see how helpful Thiên was to Linda. He was accommodating to her requests and enabled her to get good deals at the Bến Thành Market, the tailor, and art galleries. Dan thought Thiên had probably changed his mind about quitting. After all, the guy was earning good money from this trip, and probably also commissions from all those sales. But Thiên being so early couldn’t be good news.

  He pulled on his jeans. “It’s Thien.”

  Linda looked at the clock. “The tour starts in an hour. Or am I wrong?”

  He zipped up his fly. “He wants to talk to me . . . alone.”

  “What? Another secret you guys want to hide from me?”

  “No more secrets, I promise. I’ll tell you what he says.”

  Linda frowned. “Something is going on. Yesterday you two behaved as if you despised each other. I was the one who had to beg him to translate for your meeting with Phong, remember? Now that I think about it, he was pissed when you shouted at him in front of the post office.”

  “Let me go deal with it, okay?”

  She yanked at the curtain, opening it wide, refusing to look at him.

  Standing in the hotel’s reception lounge, Thiên slapped an envelope onto the table. “Money you paid me in advance.” He dropped the hundred-dollar bill onto the envelope. “Good luck with finding your girlfriend.”

  Dan wanted to gather the money, tell Thiên to fuck off, and go upstairs, but he couldn’t afford to upset Linda even more. If he let Thiên quit, Linda would explode. Thiên had booked all their hotels, arranged for transport and activities for the whole two weeks.

  He sighed. “Let’s sit down and have a talk, shall we? Mr. Thien . . . you’ve helped a lot of vets, you know how much pressure I’ve been under.”

  “No vet is as rude as you. You talk down to me, treat me like shit. I already told Duy and Như I cannot help you. I don’t care that your wife is their friend. If you need a guide, ask reception.”

  “I thought you were professional, but you dump your customers during a tour? Don’t forget you’re the one who started all this trouble. You got drunk and told Linda.”

  “I told your wife your secret, I know. . . . I didn’t mean to. But I’m glad she’s upset. She should be very angry. Because of you guys, we lost the war. I was fighting my ass off, and here you were, having a good time with your prostitute, getting her pregnant.” Thiên clucked his tongue. “All those years, people said we lost because we Southern Việt soldiers were coward, but the coward ones are you. You fucked our women and you don’t dare accept responsibility.”