Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
Jane
Dakao Plaza was teeming with activity: a construction crew doing demolition; hordes of wannabe micro-influencers with their diva lights juxtaposed next to local news cameras; and rubberneckers slowing down their cars, causing more traffic delays in an already clogged city. From the outside looking in, there were more headaches than wins. But everyone was bitten with curiosity, wondering why the hell the original Duc’s Sandwiches store had suddenly come back from the dead.
For months, all anyone saw in the decaying plaza was a flurry of action. The once-empty parking lot was now filled with laborers carrying wreckage from the old shop, then carrying in new tiles, neon signs, and mid-century furniture. Cement dust flew between the hours of nine and five, and the constant hammering and drilling echoed down Bellaire, warning of what was to come. A new guard would soon be taking over.
Jane stood at the helm, guarding closely with her clipboard and hard hat. Her hair had gotten longer, and her skin, more burnt, more colored. Summer in Houston had gone by in the blink of an eye, but she looked healthier than when she had arrived—it was as if life had been infused back into Jane’s body. One could even argue that Jane Tr?n was having fun, overhauling the store. Historically, Jane never had fun—it was the curse of the eldest daughter. Her second in command, the elderly Bác Cai, was watching over her. But if Bác Cai thought Jane had gone insane, she kept it to herself and held her tongue. A rarity.
While the recent activity gave the allure of a new renaissance on the horizon, only a handful of watchful, beady brown eyes privately scorned and judged Jane’s actions. The neighboring store owners, who had been there longer than the old sandwich shop had been around, and before Jane was born, had a belly full of complaints. For the past few months, the old guard stood watch, arms crossed, clucking in disapproval. Change should be slow, thoughtful, and by those who had been in the trenches. Jane was not one of them. She had become a stranger to the city. She didn’t know Houston anymore, and the city didn’t know her.
Not once in the past several decades had the neighboring store owners seen their plaza so crowded—not even when the old grocery store across the street had gone out of business, and everything was 75 percent off and a swarm of elderly Vietnamese women ran out of the store, flooding the streets, looking like they’d just committed robbery. Today was more crowded than that fateful day.
And they absolutely hated it. What was the point of change when peace couldn’t be achieved in their old age?
The owners stood outside their shops, leaned against the doorframes, watching the chaos around them. Th?y from the nail salon supply store, Duy from the travel agency, Xuan from the sketchy CPA’s office, and Linh from the refillable, filtered water store, all hovered, just doors from each other. Despite knowing each other as business owners, they’d never once been to each other’s homes. They were businesspeople, not friends, not neighbors, and as America had taught them, they had to learn how to pull themselves up by the bootstraps—and bootstrappers were taught to be divided and not united.
“What do you think is going on over there?” Duy said, a toothpick dangling from his old, dry lips, his sunglasses askew on his nose. He watched the construction crew scurrying around, shouldering large wooden beams, one even hauling a toilet out, while three others rushed in with a frighteningly large plant, seemingly pulled from the depths of the Amazon.
“You think that plant is fake?” Xuan asked, recognizing the oversize monstera plant being shoved through the door by three grown men. Jane shouted at them to be careful, and they shouted back that the plant was too big. “It looks preposterous.”
“Everything is fake with that generation,” Duy muttered. “You think they’re capable of keeping a plant alive? What happened to just having some plastic stools and some lights?”
“That plant looks like it’s dying. Why would she have a plant filled with holes?” Linh chimed in, shaking her head. “I feel like that’s an unlucky omen to have inside a new business.”
“White people love sickly-looking plants.” Th?y smirked. “Maybe she’s trying to get a new crowd in. She should have gotten orchids instead. Sneak some color in there. All I see is beige. It looks like it’s on death’s door.”
A crowd of people began to grow as the store owners watched Jane argue back and forth with the men about the plant.
“Who is causing all this chaos anyway?” Duy complained. He lit up a cigarette. “There’s barely any parking anymore. Being forced to do street parking at my age is my version of a fresh hell.”
“It’s Duc’s kid, isn’t it? His oldest daughter?” Linh asked as she leaned forward, craning her neck to try to look past everyone. Her crow’s-feet sharpened. Her eyesight had been failing her throughout the years, but today was especially bad. “Jane. Or is it Bang? Bong? Bing? Paul? I can’t remember. But I think it’s the oldest daughter. Definitely not the son, he’s got no business acumen. Remember his failed jewelry business? Anyway, one of the daughters has come back to revive the old bánh mì shop.”
“Duc? ??c Tr?n? ” Duy asked, surprised. “The man hasn’t been around these parts in years. Thinks he’s better than us now. Why the hell would he send his daughter to revive that old shitter?”
“Speaking of shitter, that little shit still owes me money from the late seventies.” Linh glowered. “He thinks because he’s Jeff Bezos now, we forget that he owes us? Didn’t we loan him the money to open the shop?”
“We loaned him money?” Duy asked, scratching his head, his toothpick falling out of his mouth. “I don’t remember this. How much did we give him? I have some gambling debt to pay off. Should I hit him up?”
“Why would she want to revive that old dump? Some things are better left dead. I saw Bác Cai kick out a family of rats from the store last week.” Xuan laughed hoarsely, still stuck on the idea of the old sandwich shop coming back to life. His throat was so caked with decades’ worth of cigarette smoking that his words could barely make it out. “When’s the last time the sandwiches were any good? Since the mid-nineties? Their bread makes the roof of my mouth hurt, it’s so dry. It used to be good. Remember when it first opened? We all used to eat there every day, and not once did we ever get sick of it.”
Th?y tutted, and tutted some more, while shaking her head vigorously, her hair so gray and glossy, the sun seemed to reflect off it. Though it looked like she was in disagreement, she was actually agreeing with Xuan. “That shop hasn’t been good since Evelyn was running the place. She made the crispiest tofu sandwiches in the entire neighborhood. It was so good she somehow got the white vegans to trek all the way out here, remember? It was Duc who sank the ship the moment she left them. Quality went down.”
“Whatever happened to Evelyn anyway?” Xuan asked. Now the men dropped the plant, breaking the pot, causing Jane to emit a shriek that could be heard for miles. “Did anyone figure out why she left?”
Duy, Linh, and Th?y shrugged. “Can you blame her? Look what her children have done to the shop. Desecrated it, really,” Duy said.
“Maybe the woman just wanted peace,” Linh said to no one in particular. “That’s all a woman ever wants, but never gets.”
All four of them went quiet as they remembered Evelyn’s tofu sandwiches and unanimously agreed that the years when Evelyn reigned were far better. They salivated for the days when Evelyn would be the one in the back, cooking.
Not one person blamed Evelyn for leaving Duc; the two would fight louder than cats and dogs. Their marriage was a cautionary tale for everyone in the plaza to never mix relationships and business. In reality, no marriage was beautiful back then. All anyone knew was hardship; joy was reserved for the next generation. But despite all the deprivation, the owners were nostalgic; they missed the old days. Hell, they even missed Duc, who probably, definitely still owed them money.
So, the aging shop owners of Little Saigon of Bellaire continued watching the crowd, ruminating if they were too stubborn and old for change, or if change was simply not meant for them in this lifetime.
Suddenly, a crusty, beat-up Toyota Tacoma came roaring into the plaza, interrupting their thoughts. They watched as the red truck stopped abruptly in front of the store, braking suddenly, emitting a cloud of black air into their faces, and lurching the vehicle forward, almost knocking into the monstera plant. Out stepped a tall, lanky man, with the blackest and most unruly hair. He pulled a giant bouquet of flowers out of the passenger seat and straightened out his Astros cap as he headed toward Jane and Bác Cai. The neighbors watched as Jane’s face lit up, suddenly forgetting all the plant drama from before. Bác Cai shoved Jane toward the man so hard, the younger woman almost fell off the sidewalk and into his arms.
“Well, well, well,” Linh whispered. “Is he the reason Jane moved back to Houston?”
“I thought she was a lesbian,” Duy whispered back, straightening his spine to get a closer look.
“She does give off that energy, doesn’t she? So, who is that ?” Th?y was unable to keep her excitement out of her voice. “I’d go anywhere for that .”
“Maybe we should just get rid of that guy, then,” Xuan said. “That way, once he’s out of the picture, the parking spaces will open back up, and maybe Jane will stop doing all this renovation and give up.”
“What do you mean ‘get rid of him’?” Linh asked, suspicious.
“I’m just saying! Parking has been a problem during all this renovation!”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea—”
“You don’t mean, actual murder??”
As Linh, Xuan, Duy, and Th?y removed their eyes from Jane and the mystery man, and began to bicker among themselves, they failed to see how in the afternoon sun, when Jane smiled as big as she did at the sight of Henry, she could have easily been mistaken for her mother, or at least, a younger version of her mother.
And for a split second, it was as if Evelyn never left Houston.
Someway, somehow, we always make our way back home.
Her father’s words clung to Jane as she watched Henry approach her, carrying a huge, colorful bouquet of perennials. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had bought her flowers on a random weekday, let alone that someone being her crush. Her cheeks burned, and she couldn’t tell if she was happy or embarrassed, or a wonderful mixture of both.
She gingerly accepted the bouquet. “Are we still on for dinner later?” Henry asked. Her heart bloomed alongside the flowers. “You’ve been so busy lately with the renovations, I thought I’d drop in to remind you that you still have to eat, you know. In fact, I know you haven’t eaten.”
Jane blushed fiercely, gripping the stems close against her chest, afraid to let go. “I don’t know… there’s just so much work to be done around here—”
“Go! Go! GO!” Bác Cai yelled into Jane’s ears. “Take the night off for once. You haven’t done anything fun in the four months since you’ve moved back.”
“But opening day is so soon,” Jane protested.
“You’ll be fine, just go ,” Bác Cai ordered, a threat at the tip of her tongue.
“You did promise me dinner. Then you rescheduled… then you kept rescheduling…” Henry’s voice trailed off, but his point was made.
“Alright, alright,” Jane conceded. Though she feigned waving a white flag, she couldn’t help but be thrilled at the prospect of seeing Henry in an intimate setting again. Was it a date? Or just two old friends catching up?
“While he’s here, show him your progress, con,” Bác Cai said eagerly.
“Okay, but don’t judge us, it’s still a work in progress,” Jane said nervously as she opened the front door for Henry to step into the shop, pulling the plastic curtains aside.
“I’d never judge you. Except when you don’t eat.”
Inside the half-remodeled sandwich shop, Jane paced around, pointing out all the changes they made while apologizing for all the debris. While her voice sounded confident, her feet anxiously circled. She adjusted shelves along the way, for the hundredth time, making sure all the new merchandise was neatly in order. The tote bags, the plastic cups, the cute baguette plushies.
The rebrand capitalized on an old name: The original Duc’s Sandwiches store . Jane practiced the pitch that she planned on spinning to all local news stations and influencers next month, giving the sob story of her life. How she was doing all this to fulfill her dying father’s last wishes. (Duc wasn’t dying.) The daughter who came back to preserve a bit of Vietnamese American history.
“So, what do you think?” Jane asked excitedly as she whipped around to face Henry.
She watched as Henry observed the old black-and-white photos of her family all over the store, photos that painted a false image of the Tr?ns. Photos of Duc and Evelyn, their hands coated in flour, Evelyn behind the kitchen counter, Duc hanging up the original sign with a smile on his face. While all these moments happened, the photos didn’t show what happened afterward—how her parents would erupt in anger at each other, at their children, and at the world. Angry that as refugees, the only skills they had to try to make money was through food, and how they had to sell their sandwiches for dirt cheap compared to other American food, despite the labor behind a three-dollar sandwich. But that was how they were seen their entire lives: less than, cheap, economical.
It angered her all her life that immigrant food always had to be cheap. Tacos, pupusas, dumplings, ph?, gyros, kimchi, pad thai… she could keep going. These were all foods worthy of double digits. Of dignity.
Henry stopped in the middle of the shop, surrounded by unplugged neon signs, historical photos, and wallpaper-accented walls, taking it all in.
“Wow,” Henry said hesitantly. “It’s… a lot. It’s certainly different.”
The smile on Jane’s face faltered, and she could feel herself dimming. “What do you mean by different ?”
“Oh dear,” Bác Cai whispered behind her. Before anyone noticed, Bác Cai shuffled to the back room, avoiding conflict, plugging her ears with headphones.
“I mean… it’s not bad . It’s just… not you?” he said. “I don’t see you anywhere in this shop. It kind of looks like every other store? I kind of liked the old vibe of the shop, from before. It was homey. Recognizable.”
“The old vibe?” Jane repeated hollowly. “You mean the old vibe when my father would yell at us when he was having a bad day? Or when we struggled so much, we went stretches without any customers except for the roaches? Or how my father put this shop above his entire family and it broke us? Or how my mother’s mental health grew worse with each new shop that opened, and she had a nervous breakdown and left? You mean that old vibe?”
Henry stepped backward, but the tension in the store grew into a thick fog. “Jane, I didn’t mean it like that—”
But Jane couldn’t pull herself out. She never could. She scanned the social media–ready store with a different mindset, and though she should have felt proud of herself for getting the store together in just a few months and not let a man’s opinion bring her down, she felt empty inside. Was it so wrong to hawk a false narrative of her family? She never felt more like Duc than in that moment; nothing more than a used car salesman. But she’d rather be a used car salesman than fail at life. Perhaps, she did have something in common with her father after all.
“Actually, it’s getting late,” Jane said curtly as she pretended to look at her phone. “I realized I can’t get dinner tonight. I have to stay late to sign for some deliveries.”
Henry looked taken aback and did his best to protest. “Can’t Bác Cai—”
But before Henry could argue anymore, he found himself being gently shoved out the door, with another false promise being made that she would reschedule soon. As she heard Henry’s truck start up and drive off into the setting sun, she stared at the colorful bouquet of perennials that lay sideways on the counter, taunting her. Reminding her of a life she could have had if she stayed in Houston.
“How dare he? What does he know about me? How could he possibly know me after all these years?” Jane said out loud to herself. Before she could stop herself, she felt the hot tears starting, and then a panic attack coming on. Why was she really playing into her father’s game? Why bother doing all of this?
The sad truth was, she wasn’t running away from anything because she had nothing to run away from, nor was she running toward anything, because she had nothing waiting for her at the end of the finish line. She was just… stuck.
As Jane slid to the floor, tears welling in her eyes, Bác Cai was there in a flash, her arms around her, cradling her, and rocking her back and forth, like she did back then.
“Your mother loved colorful flowers,” Bác Cai whispered.
“I know,” Jane managed to say between tears. “But the question is, do I?”