18 Evie
18 Evie
Hu ? , Vi ? t Nam
When Adam and Evie rush into the hotel, there’s a clamoring scene in the lobby, one that has drawn a crowd of people, some
of whom are completely unrelated to the tour. Connor lies flat on the floor, splayed out with his eyes open, holding a cold
compress to his nose, while ?? c stands, handcuffed, beside two extremely unamused policemen in green uniforms. Cherie sobs next to him. Ruby has her eyes
closed, fingers pressed to her temples.
“What’s going on here?” Adam demands.
Around them, sitting at the edge of their seats on the chintz furniture like gladiator spectators, are Vietnamese aunties
and grandmothers pointing at Connor and ?? c alternately. They try to explain to Adam the situation with a series of wild speculations worthy of any Vi ? t-dubbed Korean soap opera. It’s a cacophony that makes Evie’s head ache, even as she runs to Connor and kneels by his side.
“Are you okay? What do you need?” she demands, lifting the cold compress to check his nose, bleeding and bent at a slight
angle. She can’t remember if it was always that way.
Connor sounds nasally as he dabs at his nostrils. “I need a plastic surgeon. That fucker over there punched me.”
“Why did he do that?” Evie glances over her shoulder at ?? c, who looks decidedly unrepentant.
“Apparently, he’s been sleeping with Veronica.”
“Who?”
He gestures to a tall, thin woman calmly grabbing a drink at the bar. Ah, yes. Veronica the socialite from H ? Chí Minh City. Evie has been so preoccupied she forgot that Connor and Veronica are a sort-of item now.
She helps Connor up, but before she can lead him away, Connor shrugs out of her hands and lunges toward ?? c. Or, more accurately, toward the newsboy cap affixed on his head, as if it were his secret kryptonite. ?? c screeches and holds up his fists, defending his headwear, while a policeman shouts them both down. Adam steps in and pulls
Connor back firmly, muttering something under his breath that makes Connor stop struggling.
There’s a resigned sigh around the room and a disapproving series of clucks from the aunties, both of which clue Evie in on
the fact that this particular performance has been repeated quite a few times in a short span.
Cherie sobs, “ ?? c can’t go to jail! He’d never make it in there.”
Indignantly, ?? c says, “Of course I can.”
Connor hisses, “There are no women to steal in Chin Ham.”
“No one’s going to Chin Ham,” Evie tries to put in. “What is Chin Ham?”
An auntie shouts helpfully, “It’s a prison! We call it Hell on Earth!”
“Stop it right now,” Adam shouts, his voice ringing with authority. “There’s a man who’s been severely hurt, by the looks
of it, and you’re all acting like it’s a game show. You should be ashamed .”
One of the aunties sniffs and says, “If you misbehave in public, you get a public judgment.”
Another, perched on an ottoman, lifts a stack of bills in her hand. “I had my money on the scrawny one with the hat. Fights
like an alley cat.”
At that, ?? c shoots her a wink, to which she adds doubtfully, “Not sure what that Veronica woman sees in him, though.”
An octogenarian in an absurdly bright chartreuse áo dài huffs and points at Connor. “Ah, you’re crazy! Look at that red hair!
You think the gingerbread man doesn’t have some fire in him?”
?? c’s face falls while Connor smirks.
At that, Evie starts to giggle, which makes Adam glare at her. You’re not helping , he seems to say with his eyes. She stares at her feet penitently, a ghost of a smile still playing on her lips. She thinks
that if Connor is well enough to smirk, then the situation can’t be so dire. But then she catches sight of the uniformed officers
and resigns herself to silence.
Adam continues, “All right, everyone, that is enough. Cherie, please arrange to take Connor to the hospital to be examined.
Ruby will go with you. I will talk to these officers. Everyone else, please disperse yourselves.”
Why, exactly, is his authoritative tone so attractive right now? The twitch of his jaw makes parts of her twitchy.
A chorus of light groans and some pointed scowling emerges from the aunties, but Adam’s voice carries a note of threat, and
they comply. Evie is impressed that he’s able to command a room so capably, though she does wonder why he feels the need to
manage everything himself. It has to be a lot of pressure, she thinks.
“I’ll see you later?” he mouths.
Nodding, Evie takes herself to the bar for a glass of sugarcane juice, cloudy with muddled mint and spiked with just a little gin. She gets out her notebook and poises her pen over the page. She finds that she has so much to say.
Despite the fistfight—or aftermath of it—Evie isn’t thinking about the tour group. Her mind is on the slope of hills, the
sight of the emperor’s stele of regret. The flow of the Perfume River, a site made mythic by the people who flock to it, hoping
for their own dash of romance.
It’s not a lot, but a few lines come to her. Snatches of something new. Even as the bar crowd shuffles and turns over once,
twice, she continues to scribble, head bent, biting the tip of her pen every so often.
She thinks about home and the myriad definitions of the word. Wasn’t she writing about a kind of homecoming in Auntie H?o’s Cabinet of Curiosities ? And isn’t she writing about home now—home, laced with grief and gratitude and so many shades of longing? What would her
father have made of all this? He’d never had a chance to return to Vi ? t Nam after emigrating, but he’d kept the traditions in his own ways. Teaching Evie how to speak Vietnamese. Making sure they
always had a plastic jar of ?? chua in the fridge. Observing T ? t and the seasonal festivals. She pictures him standing at the stern of a boat—young, healthy—with his hair blowing in the
sea breeze, admiring the wood carvings that she’d seen that day.
In another life. Another timeline.
A tear drips onto her notebook, but she doesn’t move to wipe it away. It’s part of this story too. Home has never been just
a location for her; not Midland, not Vi ? t Nam, not even San Francisco. It’s the people. The rituals. That sense of safety, knowing that you can be as strange and
messy as you need to, and still, there will be a place for you.
She writes until her hand cramps and her stomach grumbles. Doubtless, the rest of the group will be sitting down to the formal
dinner, but she doesn’t want to leave yet. She orders a crispy seafood bánh khoái, with a starfruit-studded salad on the side.
As she’s about to put a bite of the pancake in her mouth, Riley sits next to her with a grin. She’d expected to see him at
the tombs, but he surprised everyone by going to the spa instead.
“Up for sharing?” he asks.
Reluctantly, she puts some on a plate for him. He orders himself a beer. She notices that he’s glowing, face pink and dewy
from the spa treatment. He really is an attractive man. A bit shiny at the moment, but no one’s perfect.
“You’re luminous,” she comments.
He pats his face. “Thanks. I figure, how often is it that I get to do a full-service spa treatment at the most luxurious hotel
in Hu ? ?”
“You’re making me regret the tombs,” she laughs, not meaning it.
“I bet they were something. Is it true that Emperor T ? ?? c isn’t even buried in his own tombs?”
“Yes! And the asshole’s remains have never been found.”
“Imagine walking through a garden and tripping on an emperor’s shinbone poking through the soil.”
Evie shudders. “Thanks, but no.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve talked. I almost wondered if you were avoiding me.”
“Oh! Not at all.”
Truly, Evie hasn’t much thought of Riley in a few days. Among her mother’s email, her emerging friendships, and a certain dark-eyed, firm-jawed CMO, she hasn’t had much time.
He smiles. “Well, I don’t think I’ve made my interest unclear, right?”
“Noo-o-o,” she says, drawing out the word. She blinks into his attentive gaze. He’s been perfectly clear. She’s the one who’s
unclear about what she wants.
“So, would you want to go on a date with me?”
“A date.”
“Yes, you know. The point of this tour? I’d like to take you to the garden houses. Maybe hunt for the emperor’s corpse. I’m sure Ruby will be able
to arrange something in a jiff.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Briefly, Evie describes what happened in the lobby, leaving out the way her breath
quickened at the sight of Adam taking charge. “Anyway, I saw Connor going back up the stairs earlier, so I think everything’s
okay with his nose.”
“Ha! I guess that explains why I saw ?? c’s bags outside the hotel. Poor guy. Kicked off the island in infamy.”
Evie will miss ?? c. She’d admired the way he’d seized the experience—perhaps too much, in retrospect—and made the most out of every excursion.
He was never afraid to say what he wanted, and in the process had likely inspired others to live more boldly (if ridiculously)
too. That was the whole point, right?
Still, you can’t exactly uppercut a tour guest as a paid employee and get off without consequences.
Riley clears his throat. “Well, anyway. Public fisticuffs aside, what do you say? You’re the only woman here I’m interested
in. We have so much in common, and I want to keep talking to you as much as I can in the time we have left. I’d hand you a
rose, but all I have is this flame flower I picked.”
He sets the red bloom in front of her. It touches Evie, that he thought to do this. She considers him. Riley is attractive,
sweet, interesting—and interested in her. Wasn’t this what Auntie H ? o intended when she arranged this posthumous little bargain? What had she said— love bravely . What would it hurt to be a little more adventurous?
Her mind falls on Adam, as it frequently does these days. There are so many almosts between them. Will they ever get the chance to finish anything together?
Then she shakes the thought of him away. They have no commitments to each other. If anything, he swings hot and cold depending
on the day. They kiss (or almost-kiss)—then he disappears. It’s the pattern of a commitment-phobe, and Evie knows something
about those from her illustrious dating career. Maybe going on a date with Riley won’t lead to anything. But he’s there and he’s willing
to go all-in on her. That isn’t something to throw away without some consideration.
Evie tucks the flower behind her ear. “I’d be honored to go corpse-digging with you, Riley.”
Breakfast the next morning is a stilted, almost funereal affair. Ruby is wan and lackluster, struggling to pin her usual strident
good cheer onto her face. From what Evie can tell, ?? c was evicted late last night, and Connor, though just a little battered, is pouting in his room, refusing to come out. Cherie
can hardly keep herself from sobbing into her bowl of h ? ti ? u. And Adam—well, Adam is shooting death-daggers at her and Riley, who’s talking animatedly next to her.
“The ancient garden houses are a testament to feudal architecture—living history that you can walk around in,” Riley says
expansively, gesturing with his coffee mug in emphasis.
“You mean, like all of Vi ? t Nam?” Adam mutters.
Ruby says, “I’ve arranged for a private musical performance at the An Hiên garden house for you two. Followed by a European-style
picnic on the grounds. Your car should be out front any moment now.”
Riley beams at Evie, then holds out his hand. Awkwardly, she rises to join him. Now Adam is outright glowering, the frown on his face so stern that it reminds her of storm clouds passing on an otherwise sunny day. Threatening. Why does a part of her like that he’s looking that way? If anything, it shows that he cares.
As Evie follows Riley out, she feels a hand on her elbow. Hears a voice in her ear.
Adam whispers gruffly, yet so low that only she can hear, “We’re not done, Evie Nichole.”
Her insides clench in the most pleasurable, addictive way. More. Her betraying heart skips, on high alert as always, when he is near. All she wants is to face him, to hear what it is he
has in mind, but there’s a crowd, and Riley waiting expectantly for her. She draws away from Adam, hoping that her gulp isn’t
an audible one. But when she looks back, Adam gives her a slow, sensuous smile. A promise.
So much trouble , she thinks.
That day, the hours seem to draw out like unspooling thread. She and Riley explore the lush gardens with their stone walkways
and arching greenery. The musical performance in the pavilion is achingly beautiful, that unique and transportive brand of
ballads that Vi ? t Nam is known for. And later, as they enjoy the picnic with tiny rounds of brie and jars of fig jam on a blanket overlooking
a pond, Evie thinks of how lucky she is to be able to experience such a thing. By all measures, it’s a perfectly romantic
day, full of good conversation and incredible sights.
“I wish I could stay here forever,” she says.
Riley agrees, “That would be just a dream. But you’d like Nashville. It’s full of history too. I want to show you around,
Evie. I want you to meet my friends. You’re the first woman who’s interested me like this. The first one that I can really
see fitting into my life.”
She makes a noncommittal noise, shoving a piece of baguette into her mouth.
He says, “Unless you don’t want that.”
He studies her before his face falls. She hates hurting him like this. But the whole day has been completely, one hundred percent platonic. That’s not what a great love affair should feel like. She’d made a vow to be honest with herself on this trip. And she honestly can’t make herself feel anything more than friendly affection for Riley.
He leans forward, asking simply, “Could you see yourself with me back in the States?”
And Evie tries to imagine it. Moving to Nashville. Dating Riley—and possibly more. She knows his world. How easy it would be to slide herself into it, possibly get a job at Vanderbilt or a nearby college. Going to those
readings again, making conversation with people who regularly quote Derrida (Derr-i- dah ). It would be a seamless fit, making a life with Riley.
Yet all she can imagine is Adam’s hot breath on her cheek. The way he makes her feel flushed from the inside out, as if there’s
a fire stoking in the pit of her belly. How she thinks of him constantly, even on this date, wishing that he were next to
her. Longing for his banter, the way his laugh can make her so giddy, as if she’s earned a great treasure. Wanting to speed
up every moment they’re apart until they can be in the same room, touching again. Isn’t that what love should feel like? Maybe it’s just lust.
But even still, for all of Riley’s many wonderful qualities, something inside of her turns away from what he offers.
Loving bravely also means knowing to let go of an option, especially when there’s something else out there you want more.
Even if that something scares the daylights out of you.
“Listen,” she begins.
Riley draws back.
“Ah,” he says, a little sadly. “I see.”
“Riley—”
He swallows and manages a smile. “Don’t worry, Evie. I’m not heartbroken. And I don’t regret meeting you or anything.”
“Me either.”
“Some things aren’t meant to be. It’s nice to be with another academic whom I don’t find to be a total asshole.”
“You can change your mind about me at any time,” Evie says miserably.
He gives her a peck on the cheek. “Hope not. Friends?”
“Friends,” she says, adding a fervent and hopeful emphasis to the word.
As he gets up to brush the crumbs from his lap, he looks down at her once more. There’s a crook to his lips as he says, “I hope he treats you well.”
“Hm?” she says, feigning ignorance.
He ignores her. “But I have my doubts. Take it from me: Adam Quy ? n is not the type of man who will ever settle down. He’s not looking for anything serious. Not after his ex.”
“His ex?” Adam hasn’t talked about her in great detail.
“He proposed to her. It ended badly. I heard Ruby and Adam talking about her—Lana, I think it was. I don’t think Adam is over
her.”
Then Evie is left in the garden among the fragrant blooms, the gentle ruffle of the wind, with Riley’s words in her ears.
Not the type of man who will ever settle down. Does she want to settle down? There’s a vision, then, of Adam in bed next to her, his hair mussed from sleep. He’s leaning
on one arm, staring down at her with those gorgeous dark eyes, tracing her lips with one finger.
I don’t think Adam is over her. Evie doesn’t have any reason to be jealous, but the thought of Adam proposing to someone else, making a life with a faceless-but-likely-stunning
woman, makes her feel slightly nauseated. No wonder he’s so hot and cold. He doesn’t know what he wants either.
They are two lost people finding comfort in one another for a brief time.
Is this spiky, electric thing between them just a fleeting fantasy, something summoned by the outrageously romantic circumstances
of this tour? Where would they go, in real life? To Midland? She can’t imagine him there. Would she stay in H ? Chí Minh City? He’d get bored of her ambling around in his space, never fitting in with his well-heeled friends.
What if Riley is right, and she is just a diversion for Adam, a way to pass these three weeks, an ego boost after his breakup?
After all, he wasn’t exactly clamoring for love at the beginning of the tour. What if he was trying to tell her how he felt
all along, and she was just too infatuated to hear it?
Not for the first time, doubts begin to crowd her thoughts, jumbling her so much that she finds herself unable to trace her
way back to her own emotions.