Twilight Territory

by Andrew X. Pham

She had glossy black teeth, dyed for fashion as a teenager.

Coi, Tuyet, and her two-year-old daughter, Anh, shared a divan in the bedroom. The only other furniture was a small dresser bought from the landlord. Coi’s twenty-two-year-old son, Ha, slept in a hammock strung in the shop.

As it drew near, Tuyet saw Japanese soldiers. Recently, there had been a strong Japanese presence in the town since they took over the Phan Thiet airbase from the Vichy French government. But it was the first time anyone saw Japanese soldiers in this neighborhood.

Ha had been offered a good position in the provincial government, but he had chosen instead to work with the Forestry and Agricultural Services for a meager salary. He had said he did not want to condone official thievery or repression of the motherland.

He managed with medicinal herbs, morphine when he could get it, alcohol, and heavy doses of stoicism.

Among gods and servants, no secret is safe.

His huge ears with the mangled ridges and lumps fascinated his servants. They whispered that such extraordinarily large lobes indicated longevity, someone not soon to leave this earth.

She crossed the carpeted tiles with the flat-footed strides of a sandal-wearer, naked without awareness or pretense of seduction.

She felt him stirring and reached down to help him but was unable due to the massive bulge of his gut.

Lol

Old men’s attention is old men’s stamina—slow to rise, quick to fall.

An inch of time is an inch of gold. An inch of gold cannot buy an inch of time, but it can buy a feast divine.

While the French were generally cordial and reserved toward the Japanese, the Viet were respectful and friendly. They were in awe of the Japanese for showing no deference whatsoever to the colonial ruling class. In fact, it was a vicarious pleasure for Viets to see how the French behaved in Japanese presence.

Yamazaki inhaled the enticing aromas of food and declared in French, “Something smells wonderful. They say you can’t get to heaven without dying, but I say, this comes pretty close.”

The French, whom the Viet had accepted as invincible and nearly as untouchable as demigods, were now kowtowing, fearful of the Japanese, who behaved like the tyrannical Viet nobles.

women shouldered yoke-baskets full of produce, walking as though on invisible legs, their dark trousers melding seamlessly into the twilight, their bluish-white tunics floated ghost-like in the indigo air.

a gray-haired servant came out and, beholding the soldiers, shrieked. A trooper punched him in the mouth

Lol

“First love can sometimes chart the trajectory of a lifetime.”

“Words cannot map the heart.”

“I gained a little weight.” “Fresh love is all cream and sugar,” Ly crooned salaciously.

She looked into his eyes and realized then that it had been a long, gradual surrender, incremental steps from the day they met.

“Inspector Mercier,” Tomblin said, forcing a smile. “It has been a while.” “I see you’ve managed to put your foot in shit again.” Tomblin quipped, “True, whenever I smell shit . . . there you are.”

Takeshi named him Kei—“jubilation”—to mark his fatherhood. Tuyet chose his middle name, Huy Hoang, for “glorious” to counterbalance the turmoil the seer-nun had predicted. As a precaution, she insisted that they use the baby’s shortened Viet name, Hoang, to confuse angry spirits that had been offended by the Japanese, who were, even by Takeshi’s admission, becoming crueler by the month as the tide of war turned against the empire.

Feraud squinted at the hot pearl throbbing on the overcast sky.

Tension escalated through the fall of 1946. A misunderstanding in Hai Phong resulted in Viet Minh militiamen killing twenty-three French soldiers. North of Hanoi, six French troops were killed days later. On November 23, 1946, the French retaliated by butchering more than six thousand men, women, and children in a single day, bathing the streets of Hai Phong in blood. Fighting soon spread throughout the country.

Mekong Cooler, four lumps of sugar, pickled lemon, and pickled plum, with two shots of rum.

“You have not broken my heart. I have no reason to resent you. A hard or an easy life, that’s destiny.”

“Pretty stones won’t earn me merit in the next life, but a kindness in this one will. Tell me, do you want to be reborn into another life like this one?”

All her superfluous and decorative parts had been cut away, leaving only sorrow, anger, regrets, and a deep ache.

“Don’t wait too long,” said another. “Bandits get bolder every day.” “That’s life in a war zone. If neither side gets you, the wild dogs will.”

The good thing about . . . about old age is . . . it doesn’t last long.”

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

I have promised you the world and given you nothing but pain and sorrow.”

There is a pain that hurts and another sort that alters a person. He wondered if he would ever recognize her when this season had passed.

She had woven her essence into every thread of his being.