Chapter 8
eight
QUYNH
Q uynh sat with her body pressed against the passenger door as Griffin drove them to the address she showed him. He took one look at the address and gave a curt nod. It seemed like he knew where he was going, which was a reprieve since she didn’t know her way around town anymore.
The town has changed so much from what she recalled. Her memories were fuzzy, like trying to look through a dirty window, but she didn’t remember there being so many shops on Main Street. Modern progress didn’t erase Willowbrook’s small-town appeal.
They drove past Sip Happens, which was on the corner of Main Street.
The bookstore she visited earlier was across the street.
Small boutique shops lined the streets with mom-and-pop restaurants offering a variety of food options.
Down an alleyway, she saw signs for vintage jewelry and even a comic book store .
It was odd to her that a practical stranger dropped everything to help her.
Quynh wasn’t used to the kindness of strangers.
She had always been fiercely independent, a trait born from losing everyone in her life.
Instead of focusing on how alone she was in the world, she made it her mission to help others.
It became second nature to be the caretaker.
It was nice to be taken care of for once, to let someone else take the reins, even if it was just for a moment.
She’d already protested about the necessity of Griffin stopping his work to take her to see her estranged father when he was clearly so busy.
But one look at his unforgiving face had her biting back any further protestations.
She knew he wouldn’t budge, and though she was embarrassed he saw her blubbering in his office earlier, she was also thankful for how he handled the situation.
He didn’t make her feel stupid for being emotional, nor did he make it seem like she was being overly dramatic for crying over a man she hadn’t seen in well over a couple of decades.
The last time she remembered seeing her father was right before her mother moved them across the country. She was nine years old. Her birthday was right around the corner. They had been planning her tenth birthday party, and she made all of her invitations by herself to give to her classmates.
Quynh never got to hand out the cards .
The night before she planned to pass out her birthday invitations, her mother woke her up in the middle of the night and carried her out to the car, which was already packed with their meager belongings.
Quynh had been disoriented from being woken up, but her mother reassured her and told her they were going to stay with her sister.
Her mother drove them far away from the only life she ever knew.
Throughout the car ride, her mother remained silent and unresponsive.
English was her mother’s second language, though she preferred speaking in her native tongue.
Quynh knew her mother wouldn’t open until she was ready. If she were ever ready.
It took just about three whole days of driving with minimal bathroom breaks before her mother pulled the car to a stop in front of a colonial-style home in Washington state. They arrived in the middle of the night, but when they turned off the car, Quynh was surprised to see the front door open.
Her mother drove them to her older sister’s house. She sat in the car while the sisters greeted each other in hushed silence. They didn’t hug, but there was respect between the two women. Her aunt, whom she later learned was from a different father, peered in the car and offered a small smile.
They stayed with her aunt and extended family for most of her life until Quynh finally went off to college in the great state of California. Unfortunately, her aunt died while she was a sophomore in college, and she never got to see her graduate.
Living with her was like having two mothers. Her aunt never had kids of her own, so she treated Quynh as if she were her own daughter. She had nothing but fond memories of growing up. Her aunt’s presence was sorely missed.
When her mother became ill a few years ago, Quynh dedicated her life to making sure her mother wanted for nothing, often at the expense of her own well-being.
But it was what was expected of her. So, while also attending graduate school, she spent every waking moment caring for her mother in her last years of life.
Her mother passed a couple of years ago in the comfort of her own home.
She left behind journals Quynh wasn’t quite ready to read yet.
It was mostly written in Vietnamese, a language Quynh regrettably could not read fluently.
She needed someone to translate her journal, but she wasn’t sure how to navigate the situation.
The idea of sharing her mother’s private thoughts with a stranger was too invasive.
So, it sat in a box with a few other trinkets and jewelry her mother left behind for her.
Her mother had been a hardworking woman, and the only thing that stopped her was the terminal stages of cancer.
Even when she was receiving chemotherapy and radiation, her mother still showed up to work.
She continued to work at a much slower pace, but she had built up a loyal clientele who were willing to wait for her.
It was wonderful to see, even if Quynh tried to convince her mother she needed to rest and not work.
It made her mother happy though. She couldn’t deny anything that made her mother happy.
From the brief conversations she overheard between her mother and aunt, her mother never found love again, at least not that she was aware of.
The scenery outside changed from suburban homes to dense trees as Griffin drove them to the remote address.
He pulled onto a long, winding driveway that stretched on for what seemed like miles before revealing a large mansion at the top of the hill.
The circular driveway in front of the home boasted a gleaming fountain of a naked woman and two small girls playing at her ankles.
Griffin pulled to a stop at the main doors. She glanced over at Griffin and gave him a smile of thanks before unbuckling her seatbelt. She was just about to reach for the door handle when the front doors opened to reveal an older woman.
Griffin jumped out of the truck and rounded the hood to open her car door. He gave her a hand as she hopped out of the truck. Walking side-by-side up the front steps, they approached the waiting woman.
Quynh wasn’t really sure what to expect when she came here. It certainly wasn’t this giant mansion. She didn’t remember this home from any of her memories .
“You must be Quynh.”
She nodded as the woman stepped aside and gestured for them to come inside.
“He will be so happy to see you again. My, how you’ve grown up.
” Quynh resisted the urge to frown. She didn’t remember this woman, but maybe she knew her when she was a child.
“You probably don’t remember me. I’m Cynthia.
Arthur’s housekeeper. You can call me Cindy. You were so young when you left.”
Cindy led them into the sitting room and gestured for them to make themselves comfortable.
“Let me check with his nurse and see if now’s a good time for a visit.”
Cindy disappeared back into the foyer. Quynh glanced nervously at Griffin, who sat stiffly on the uncomfortable bench.
She chose the armchair across from him, though it wasn’t much more comfortable than his bench.
On the coffee table was a tray with a pitcher of pink lemonade.
Her hands were shaking as she poured two glasses and took a small sip, though her stomach was churning with anxiety.
Griffin took the glass she offered him, but didn’t drink from it.
They waited in stilted silence until Cindy returned a few moments later.
“He’ll see you now.”
Quynh slowly stood up and straightened her pink sundress as she followed closely behind Cindy. Griffin stayed put on the bench as she walked by him. The scent of his cologne wafted toward her in a comforting embrace. She squared her shoulders to prepare herself for the impending encounter.
Cindy led her up a set of stairs until they were on the second floor. The hallway was long, but they stopped in front of the closest set of doors to the stairs. Cindy’s soft knock echoed loudly in the dim hallway. She didn’t wait for a response before opening the door.
She expected to see her father lying in bed with tubes and beeping machines, but the sight that greeted her was more shocking.
An elderly man sat upright in an armchair with a distinct robe covering his slim frame.
Besides the oxygen tube wrapped around his nostrils to hide behind his ears, leading to a portable oxygen tank, she did not spot any other medical equipment in the room.
At the sight of her in the doorway, his eyes seemed to gleam with hope and excitement. He sat up straighter and tried to stand up. Cindy picked up her pace and admonished him for overexerting himself. Quynh watched the disgruntled man be chastised by the much older woman and almost smiled.
When he was back in his armchair, he gestured vaguely for Quynh to have a seat across from him. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat perched on the edge of the seat. A tray of tea and biscuits sat on the table between them.
“Quynh. It’s so good to see you again. ”
His voice was raspy from misuse, and she could tell the short sentences caused him a great deal of effort. He was already looking winded. She guessed he probably suffered from chronic lung disease. Perhaps even cancer, given his gaunt cheeks and sallow skin.
She tried to find the man she used to call her daddy in the aged man sitting across from her. The shape of his eyes, though now wrinkled, was the same. So was the earnest look in his eyes, as if he truly was happy to see her.