The Family Recipe

Chapter 41

CHAPTER 41

Everyone. Yes, everyone .

“Someone please explain to me why there are so many damn temples and steps in Vietnam,” Jude said, breathing heavily as he stopped climbing the steps, catching his breath. He leaned over, holding on to the ledge, and he made the mistake of looking down. His fear of heights mixed with paranoia began to settle in as he finally realized how steep the steps were. “Haven’t they heard of escalators? Isn’t Asia beating America in the technology race? They can’t just airlift people to the top or beam them up somehow?”

Bingo was close behind Jude, her breathing also ragged. “I think that defeats the purpose of visiting a Buddhist temple. You’re supposed to suffer to reach the top. Something about reaching nirvana. Enlightenment.”

“Yes, but do you think Duc will ever reach enlightenment?” Jude muttered.

“Also, the cable car is broken,” Jane said. Her chest was also heaving up and down as she rested her hands on her hips. “You can blame all the tourists around here.”

“There’s a cable car?!” Paulina’s raggedy breath behind all of them floated down the mountain. Heels in hand, she had trailed so far behind everyone, she appeared like a dot on the horizon. “Are we sure Georgia is right? What if Duc isn’t here? What if he lied to us?”

No one replied; they just kept following Georgia begrudgingly to the top. Once again, the youngest Tr?n irritated them all. Georgia’s youthful spirit and energy was noninfectious, as her four older siblings heaved, dragged their feet, and complained all along the way. But it wasn’t Georgia’s youthfulness that propelled her; with each step she took on the stone marble, she knew she’d reach a different kind of inconceivable nirvana: the idea of a happy, united family.

At the bottom of the stairs at Fansipan, Connie was circling like a vulture, waiting for the clear to attack. She puttered about in a nonsensical pattern, and the cable car attendant to her right moved a few steps back from her. In the far distance, she could see the five siblings slowly inch their way to the top, struggling, out of breath, and slowing down. At one point, she even saw Paulina take a tumble. Though she had grown and evolved, she couldn’t help but relish in their suffering.

Satisfied, she turned to the attendant, who immediately rushed forward. She handed him a wad of cash and thanked him for putting the lift out of operation. She barked orders to restart the lift again, and when a car came down from the mountain, they opened the door for her. With a pointed ballet flat, Connie stepped into the lift. The whirring sound of the tourist trap began to come to life, and she set out to the top of the mountain, where the temple was—and where her husband had been hiding for the past year.

“Nowhere else to hide, husband,” Connie said to herself as she glided over large patches of the forest, heading toward the top of the legendary mountain.

At the very top of Fansipan, all five Tr?n siblings collapsed onto the final steps of the temple, making more of a ruckus than the four-hundred-year-old temple had ever seen in its lifetime. Old monks in orange robes stared horrified while younger monks in gray robes rushed to carry trays of offerings, nearly sending the blessed fruit flying into the air. Even tourists began to look down on them. The audacity! The disrespect! But everyone stopped in their tracks, curious as to why a group of five people who looked similar to one another seemed to be entering the sacred mountain with such aggression. They debated whether or not the siblings were tourists or Vietnamese diaspora on their identity journey—either way, it was the same to them, because diaspora will always be tourists. Though the monks had seen it all in their lifetimes, this time, they knew something was strange.

“We’re looking for someone. Anyone know a Duc?” Jane called out hoarsely in Vietnamese. “Duc Tr?n? Owner of Duc’s Sandwiches? Parading around for the past thirty or so years pretending to be our biological father?” The monks all looked at one another, confused, trying to figure out who Duc was. Bingo whipped out a photo of Duc on her phone and began showing it around. She was met with blank, puzzled faces.

“Just so you all know, Duc’s Sandwiches aren’t very good,” Bingo called out. “It’s a bit unseasoned.”

An older monk stepped forward, his hands tucked inside his robes, giant wood beads adorning him. “There is no one staying here by that name,” he assured them all, in perfect English. “No one outside is allowed to stay here unless you commit your life to the Buddha, and we have not had a new person in a very long time. Please, you must all leave, you’re causing a disturbance.”

“What?!” Jude yelled. “He’s not here?”

“I fucking knew it,” Jane whispered. “I knew he was lying. That old lying piece of—”

“Mom?” Bingo said, shocked, interrupting Jane.

“Okay, look,” Jane said, her voice full of indignation. “I know I was like a second mother to you, but please don’t call me your mother. It’s disturbing—”

“Má?” Paulina now repeated hollowly, her eyes looking past everyone, to the lone woman who stood in the middle of the temple grounds, her petite body frozen, her shaggy gray hair pinned neatly, wearing all linen, so loose it drowned out her frame. Her arms hung awkwardly.

Evelyn took in all her children, whom she hadn’t seen in over two decades. Her children represented her past, present, and future; each one had come out of her body, and she carried a part of them with her—including all her invisible demons. Each child looked like her in one way or another.

But Jane especially looked like her.

“Mom?” Jude’s voice shook as he stared down the woman who had abandoned them all. Jane saw how ghost white Jude’s face had become. It was whiter than the clouds around them—clouds that huddled together like cotton balls in a children’s art project, haphazardly glued without rhyme or reason, but still joyfully.

All five Tr?n children were soon looking into the eyes of their mother, Evelyn Lê, who stood there as if it was nothing more than an ordinary Wednesday afternoon.

“I guess we’re all here for Duc, aren’t we?” she finally said, breaking a twenty-year silence. The siblings took in her aged appearance. Aside from Georgia, who slid herself out of frame, out of her siblings’ purview, while also pretending to be shocked at seeing her mother in person.

“May rose, jasmine, and a hint of bourbon vanilla,” Paulina said softly. Her eyes were adjusting themselves to the light as if they’d been in the dark for so long. Her mother had gotten old. Remnants of her beauty stood the test of time, but she looked thinner, exhausted, after hiding for so long. “I should have known. There was a faint trail of it on the way up.”

“I smelled it on the plane, but figured everyone who was going to Vietnam was wearing the same scent,” Jane said quietly.

“I smelled it on the bus,” Bingo chimed in. “But I also figured every old Asian lady loved—”

“Chanel No. 5,” everyone said at once.

Jude looked as if he was about to faint at the sight of his mother. He imagined Jane whispering mommy issues into his ear. It wasn’t really mommy issues; he was only trying to make sense of seeing a stranger again, a stranger who was responsible for all this pain, just standing before him, as if the past twenty years of pain never transpired. But something in him made him step forward. He didn’t know what kept him going, but he was the first to break out. One foot in front of the other. He didn’t know how to stop, but he needed that reassurance in the way only a mother could give. He brushed past his sisters, walked toward his mother, and embraced her, pulled her close to him. His face burrowed into her shoulder and he began to cry, much to the shock of all his sisters. They watched as their mother awkwardly stood there, arms tight at her sides, until they could see her eyes softening up, and then eventually, she reciprocated.

“I think it’s actually you who we’ve been looking for the whole time,” Jude whispered into the crook of her neck, still holding on tight.

One by one, Evelyn’s daughters began to step forward, their defensive walls coming down, moved by this unexpected reunion. The next one to hug Evelyn and Jude was Georgia. Paulina came soon after. Bingo nearly tripped on herself as she ran with her arms outstretched toward the growing mass, until only Jane was left. Jane continued standing on the other side of the temple, her mind in its own torture chamber as she grew resentful at the reunion before her.

Somehow through the tangle of all the arms and bodies around her, Evelyn was able to lock eyes with her eldest daughter, and she silently pleaded with Jane to understand why she had to leave them. Both women’s eyes were wounded, but Jane made no movement forward. Everyone with eyes and ears knew that Jane had always been the one with real mommy issues, the one who stepped into the role of mother far too early, the one who shielded her siblings from their mother’s depression and anxiety, the one who had to give up any modicum of a childhood in favor of making sure everyone else would turn out okay. Jane wondered if her mother knew how much damage she had inflicted on her and her inability to find her own happiness.

But Evelyn knew. She didn’t need anyone to show or tell her. She knew so much that she stepped away from her four other children and began walking across the long, cobbled temple grounds, making her way toward Jane. The rest of the Tr?n children, monks, tourists, nuns, volunteers, tour guides, and those who had come to the temple seeking refuge and answers watched in awe as a Vietnamese mother approached her eldest daughter, as if she were approaching a timid stray and didn’t want to spook it. Evelyn eventually reached her destination, and took Jane’s hands into her own calloused, rough ones. The younger woman’s hands were diametrically the opposite of Evelyn’s: perfect, smooth, the hands of an immigrant’s daughter who had the privilege of going to law school, was a voracious reader, and who had traveled the world and had seen more places than Evelyn ever would in her lifetime. She might have been alone on these trips, but she still had freedom.

Evelyn proceeded to say the two phrases that Jane had had trouble her entire life saying:

“I’m sorry, con,” Evelyn said. “I love you more than you know.”

It was the two phrases that Jane couldn’t say to Henry. To anyone.

Behind everyone, the young monks in the gray robes dropped the baskets of blessed fruit, not from shock or surprise, but because they were overwhelmed with gratitude for being alive and present to witness the rare beauty of generational healing, which was just simply another step toward nirvana of a different kind, the kind that could be achieved here on earth.

Jane began to cry, dropped her mother’s hands, and wrapped her arms around her. They both stood there, swaying from side to side, Jane towering over her petite mother. Georgia, ever the optimist, started clapping and jumping, her eyes brimming with tears, but Bingo put her hands over Georgia’s, doing her best to silence her.

“Wait a minute, is that… Connie over there?” Paulina whispered to her siblings.

Out of nowhere, Connie V? came bursting up the steps, pushing monks out of the way, her eyes feral, her designer bag glistening in the sun, the repetitive, tacky logo on display for all to see. A sea of orange tunics went flying in the wind as monks scattered in every direction, attempting to avoid being touched by the rabid woman. Despite having taken the lift to the top of the mountain, she was drenched in sweat, unaccustomed to the country’s heat. She raged toward Evelyn and the siblings, a fire pouring out of her, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Just like everyone else, Connie was also looking for answers.

“Where is he?” she roared, birds scattering from the trees. “Where is my so-called precious husband?”

She stared into the faces she’d been chasing for the past year. Jude, Jane, Bingo, Paulina, and what’s the youngest one’s name again? Georgina? Whatever.

“Connie!” Georgia snapped. “Remember the plan? I told you to be patient .”

Jane looked at her in alarm. “What do you mean, ‘plan’?”

“You’re wasting your breath. We don’t know where he is,” Bingo said, interrupting, shrugging.

Everyone turned to look at Evelyn, including Connie. The manic desire for revenge suddenly seemed harder to achieve for everyone. She also shrugged. “I don’t know where he is, either, I was just following you all.”

“We both were trailing you all. We flew here together,” Connie said gruffly. “You’re all not very observant.”

Jane grew impatient, her voice growing louder. “Georgia, I just asked you. What plan were you talking about?”

Georgia stood meekly, trying to make eye contact with Connie and her mother for help, but both dropped their gaze. “I invited Connie and our mother here.”

Soon all their voices began to mesh together, so much so that no one knew who was talking.

“What do you mean you— ”

“Invited? Like a birthday party invited?—”

“You were in contact with our mother —”

“This whole time—”

“ Twenty years—”

“Look, forget Duc. Who is my real father, Má?” Jude suddenly burst out loud, his voice overpowering everyone else’s. He turned toward Evelyn, putting aside their beautiful moment. “Why did you lie to us for so long?”

“Forget Jude’s biological father, who is our biological father?” Jane asked, pushing forward, as she pointed toward all of her sisters.

Evelyn opened her mouth and closed it quickly. Her hesitation drove everyone around her mad. “I knew this day would come eventually. Look, your father has always loved you,” Evelyn said carefully. “And Duc has loved and cared for you all, too. You are all Duc’s children in a way.”

“That’s not the question I asked,” Jude bellowed. “I waited my entire life to ask you this question. Everyone knows he isn’t. I’ve always known. Who is my real father?”

“Oh just tell them,” Connie shouted, throwing her arms in the air. “Just tell them so we can all focus together and track down Duc.”

Jane could see her mother withdrawing into herself. Like the lie she had worked so hard to maintain had become so embedded in her, and she didn’t know how to utter the truth. “Má, why did you lie for so long? Why keep the lie going if Duc wasn’t even your real husband or our real father?” Jane asked gingerly. “What was the whole point?”

“It was complicated back then,” Evelyn said as she began twisting her hands together. “You don’t know what it was like, what was happening to all of us back then. We were so scared someone would come after your father. There was a list, with your father’s name on it, for the Klansmen to seek revenge on. Your father testified in court, he helped gather evidence and testimonies. He took on that risk, but he wasn’t a father back then. So Duc stepped in and pretended to be your father so nobody would take revenge on you all. He made sacrifices to make sure we’d all be safe.”

“Don’t make him into such a saint, okay?” Connie groaned. “Duc may be a saint to you all, but he’s no saint to me. He wrote me out of his will!”

Behind everyone, there was a commotion and all the monks and tourists began backing away again, making yet another clear path.

Mr. Ng? soon came bobbing up the steps, sweat pouring out of him as he loosened his tie. His suit jacket hung over his arm. Unlike how graceful Evelyn was in the heat, the top of Mr. Ng?’s shiny, balding head had been fried scarlet by the overbearing sun.

“What the hell?” Paulina said suddenly. “Mr. Ng??”

“Jesus Christ,” Mr. Ng? said, gasping for air. “Why is the lift broken today of all days?”

“Language,” the monk closest to him said warningly.

“Oh sorry, I mean… Buddha?” Mr. Ng? said as he turned toward Bingo. “Okay, I’m here, what’s the emergency? Why is this temple suing you all?”

“Anh?” Evelyn whispered. “What are you doing here?”

Mr. Ng?’s face fell instantly when he realized Evelyn was standing there in front of him. A lifetime of secrets standing between them. Her disappearance wrecked him. But here she was, alive, flesh, bone, and all. She looked exactly the same, save for a few more gray hairs. Her beauty still standing the test of time. The tiniest spark of something passed between them, and Mr. Ng? dropped his suit jacket on the temple ground.

“Em? Is that really you?” he whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“For god’s sake,” Connie cried out as all the monks angrily stared at her. “Sorry, sorry. Who else is going to come up those stairs? It’s like a clown car.”

Everyone at the temple had fully stopped doing whatever they were doing to watch the saga unfold before them instead. Some even began pulling out plastic chairs and setting them down in the courtyard.

Bingo beamed proudly and pointed at Mr. Ng?. “Ladies and gentlemen, our biological father.”

Jude, Jane, Paulina, and even Georgia looked shell-shocked as they began to connect the dots and looked at Evelyn for confirmation. But her thinned lips and her anxious expression confirmed it all for them.

Observing Evelyn and Mr. Ng? side by side, the daughters saw the resemblance. They stared at the old, crusty lawyer, who had been by Duc’s side since they exited Evelyn’s womb, who had always been there for them in the shadows, who had picked up the kids from school when Duc couldn’t, who made sure everyone’s teeth were brushed when Duc was too busy with the sandwich chain, who made sure they never went to bed hungry, and who had helped Jude build his fort under Duc’s desk.

Mr. Ng? began protesting. “What did you just say? I don’t have any children, I’m no one’s father.”

“Wait,” Jane began as she really began observing Mr. Ng?’s mannerisms and how closely he resembled all the daughters. “You were the one who convinced and mentored me to go to law school, for immigration law.”

“Oh my god,” Paulina whispered, still processing. “But the letters? The ones Duc wrote to us that kick-started this? Did you write those…?”

Soon every voice began to pile on, accusing Mr. Ng? of moments of true fatherhood, the kind of moments that went unnoticed and were often taken for granted. Mr. Ng?’s face remained frozen as he inched toward Evelyn, seeking shelter from the onslaught.

“Sorry about lying, I had to get you to come here somehow,” Bingo said to him. “The temple isn’t suing us, that’d be crazy. I just said that ’cause I knew you’d come. You… you always come when we need you.”

“Would it be crazy, though?” a monk behind them whispered to their fellow monk. “ We could sue for emotional distress.”

“I’m not—I’m not your…” Mr. Ng?’s face turned beet red. Now he was really cowering behind Evelyn.

“Give it up, anh,” Evelyn said, exasperated. “They caught us.”

“Why the fuck are we in Sa Pa, then?” Jane yelled. “Who told us that Duc was here?”

Connie turned angrily toward Mr. Ng? and all but shoved Evelyn out of the way. She thrust a finger against his chest. “You told me Duc was hiding out in a temple, doing charity work and finding inner peace.”

Mr. Ng? gave a weak smile. “I did say that, didn’t I? I mean, it was clearly a lie.”

“Who told us to come here, then?” Jude joined Jane in the witch hunt. “Speak up!”

Georgia whimpered, a strangled noise came out of her, and she raised her hand. “I’m the one who said Duc was here even though I knew he wasn’t.”

“Why would you do that?” everyone shouted, including Evelyn, Connie, and Mr. Ng?.

“Because Fansipan has always been on my list?” She released a small, awkward smile. “I thought it’d be cool to see this as a family, especially the rice paddy fields. Look where we are, look how beautiful it is. We did it, didn’t we? My first real family vacation. Our first real family vacation.”

Everyone groaned. Curses flew through the air as chaos erupted even more. Everyone began chiding Georgia, then they all turned on each other. Evelyn and Mr. Ng? began arguing about where she’d been the last twenty years and why did she leave them? But why did she leave him ? Connie took out a vape and stood in the corner, and all the sisters naturally began ganging up on Jude, for absolutely no reason at all except that old habits die hard. Even the monks gave up trying to get everyone to settle down, or to watch their language. Instead, they began to pray for the family.

In the middle of the chaos, Evelyn turned to Jude, and only Jude. “I’ll tell you about your father one day. Just know that he loved you. His name was Tu?n.”

With that, no other explanation was needed. Jude could see the grief on his mother’s face. Jude kneeled, collapsed under the weight of a type of grief he didn’t know he could ever have. The grief of something in the “past tense,” knowing that that person, whoever it was on the end of that, was gone from this world. He grieved for a father he would never know.