Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mimi
To Mimi, America was a dark, unspeakable tumor in the pit of her stomach.
Every good thing that had happened there before she lost her child was forever stained by the moment she realized Ngan had disappeared.
She hated the smell of the dirt that seeped from concrete sidewalks and the garbage that oozed out of the trash barrels.
It wasn’t the same as the mountains of garbage in Saigon—somehow it was worse here, filthier.
There were no fragrant flowers, trees, or fruits that could compensate for the stench that sat in her throat as she walked along the streets, past forgotten dumpsters.
The only redeeming thing about this country was that the days were longer during the summer.
Every weekend Mimi would take a bus to Philadelphia and return to parts of the city she knew.
She searched for clues about the girls listed on the piece of paper Madame New Zealand had made for her.
She walked around the stores where she thought young girls who would be Ngan’s age would go, she stood outside the fast-food restaurants to see if there were any faces she might recognize.
At the end of the day she watched the sun set over the Schuylkill River on the land around the city in the blistering July heat.
As she looked down at the water’s curves, she turned and saw the sun setting behind her, the sky in front becoming pink and soft, then slightly blue again, as though it could not stop its beauty, then the land closest to the setting sun would get dark, almost black against the orange line of the horizon.
For a moment, she could be anywhere, and the land softened, the outline of the buildings and the sky lingering, then finally dark as the sparkling lights came on.
Her soul quietened for those moments, and Mimi didn’t hate it there so much.
She started to see it as a place that might have some answers about her daughter, or maybe even bring her back.
···
Within a month Mimi had transformed Madame America’s enormous house and created a well-ordered, spotless home.
Mimi had never seen houses like this in Vietnam.
The cooking stove in the kitchen was of such enormous proportions she wondered how many people she would cook for there, she could have fit inside the refrigerator three times over comfortably.
And for some unknown reason they had three cars parked in their driveway.
Why did they need three cars when only two of the family could drive?
The amount of food in their pantry was more than anything she had seen in any home.
Because of the cooler climate, things did not spoil, unlike the food at home, where she would have to study packets of grains with great vigilance to make sure there were no weevils in them.
She placed everything in the pantry in height order and came back to find Madame America had moved things around.
Mimi nodded and arranged things according to how her new employer preferred.
The words weren’t necessary sometimes; Mimi always understood the things that were left unsaid.
She tended to the neglected yard with feverish energy, weeding and trimming overgrown hedges and sweeping away debris from the ground.
She accompanied Madame America to the grocery store, where she sat quietly in the passenger seat and took in all her surroundings.
She was introduced to gardeners, pool guys, acquaintances in the store as though Mimi were a member of the family, and Madame America started referring to her as “the housekeeper” and not “the helper” the way she had back in Saigon.
Every Sunday Madame America told her to relax, and soon she offered Mimi Saturdays off as well, unless she had guests over.
By the fourth week, Mimi took the bus from New Jersey to Philadelphia’s Center City and found a café with free wi-fi to call Toan.
She had promised to call him every fortnight on her Sundays off.
“How is the madame?” Toan asked. She could hear the radio playing a Vietnamese pop song, he was in the driver’s waiting room waiting for Sir Jin.
The old driving company had reregistered under a new name and Toan had gotten the call.
She pictured the smoke in the air, the other drivers lying down with their feet on the tables and chairs.
“She’s okay. She acts guilty for asking me to do things here—not like at home. She’ll change her tune soon.”
“They always do.”
“Yeah. Are you waiting for Sir Jin again?”
“Always, this guy, I don’t know what he’s doing with these hookers, but he likes to spend a long time in there.”
“Have you been eating properly?”
“What about you? All that junk there?”
“It’s terrible food. And my madame, they eat so badly here. She asks me to cook when people come over. But when nobody is visiting, if you could see the stuff they have. This horrible stinking thing, Macs and cheese, they call it. Disgusting. Dried-up orange stuff smells like vomit.”
Toan laughed. A silence fell between them. She could hear the radio in the background again.
“Be careful, my little general,” he said quietly, and she knew he meant it.
“Anyway, don’t know how long Sir Jin is planning to stay here.
” He continued, “I think I heard the driver’s agency talking about him moving.
I hope next time I get an Australian or even better, a Danish Sir.
You know I told you my friend Liem had a Danish Sir, he doesn’t even call him Sir. Can you imagine?”
“Don’t get any ideas, just take the money and keep your mouth shut.”
“Yeah yeah, I know, I know. I’ve been eating Bùn B? Hue almost every night. It’s the easiest thing.”
She thought of him sitting alone at the stalls they loved to go to, and she felt a sadness creep in. His voice made him sound so close. He could have been in the same city, on the same street. That was how close he sounded.
“Look after yourself. I’ll try again in a couple of weeks,” she said, eager to finish before her resilience wore down further.
“Wait wait, you haven’t told me about the job yet. How is it? What’s the house like?”
“It’s big, not as big as those houses on the compound. It’s different. The city is filthy. You can’t imagine it.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”
Of course she had. She thought about it every time she saw a child who might be Ngan.
Every time she pulled out her crumpled list with the name of the adopted Asian girls they had found in the Philadelphia news stories online.
And then she had to check herself because, by now, Ngan would be grown up.
She would be eighteen years old. She had already looked up five of the girls on her list.
“Why do you think anything will be different this time around?” Toan asked.
Mimi was silent. Why did she need to answer him again? Somewhere inside lived a shoot of hope that she had not culled. She allowed it to grow when a moment of happiness appeared in her life, like a mulchy patch of earth that she nourished overnight. This root was stubborn. It took hold.
After the line had gone dead, she sent him a message. I love you. And walked back to the station. She walked and walked straight down Market Street from 30th Street Station all the way to City Hall.
She walked through the streets toward Reading Terminal Market, weaving between the throng of weekend shoppers and small groups of people huddled over standing tables scooping forkfuls of jerk chicken and rice into their mouths.
Mimi stopped before the cake stalls and stared at the enormous sponge cakes with pink icing and sprinkles.
She watched as shoppers ate half a cake and threw the rest into the garbage.
Two dollars of cake , she thought to herself.
Mimi remembered her time in Philadelphia before; after the lunchtime rush, she always walked into the market at four in the afternoon as some of the stalls started to clear up.
She was given discounted loaves from the Amish stalls.
The girls in their stiff white aprons and hairnets would pass her a loaf, never breaking their flat expressions, lips firmly closed.
Her big spend every week went on a tin of condensed milk for her Café Sua Da .