Twilight Territory

by Andrew X. Pham

“No truth more convincing than the lies one tells oneself,” Tuyet retorted.

Ha’s father, a village tailor, had committed suicide after he had gambled away their house and savings, leaving Coi and twelve-year-old Ha homeless and destitute. At the funeral, Coi had pulled her son into her bosom. “Weep for your father, son. We will mourn him one full moon, and then we will mourn him no more. If you love your mother, then be a virtuous man. That is all I ask.”

“You’re pretty smart for someone with no experience.” “Is that a backhanded compliment? How sweet-and-sour of you.”

“It’s nice if a man can make you laugh, but it’s better if he can make your heart smile.

“Do you miss your home?” He thought about it and replied, “A boy misses home; a man remembers it.” “And a woman?” “A woman makes a home.” Tuyet tilted her head. “Do you miss your country?” “As much as you miss Hanoi.” “Hanoi is not across the sea.” “Sea, land—same. Distance and time.”

“Fear is not necessary,” he said. “It’s natural; the weak fear the strong.”

The house was somehow too beautiful, so much above her place in society that Tuyet had a premonition that it would not be her permanent home. This gave her a measure of vicarious pleasure, as though she was wearing expensive jewelry on loan. Since childhood, nothing had come easily, so she always felt that whatever she got without shedding sweat and tears hadn’t been truly earned. Without this “earning” process, owning something was neither complete nor fulfilling.

On August 6, 1945, an American B-29 bomber named Enola Gay dropped the world’s first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, instantly killing eighty thousand people. Three

days later, on August 9, another B-29 bomber named Bockscar dropped a second atomic bomb on Nagasaki, killing forty thousand.

The Japanese claimed they were behaving similarly to the British, who had withdrawn when the French mob had rampaged unchecked through the central district two days earlier. The incident became known as the Cité Héraud Massacre.

His health had not recovered even after three years in Macau, but his fortunes had. He lived for one purpose. Revenge.

The war had ended in Europe in mid-May. Hirohito had surrendered on August 15. It was now October, and the accursed British, ever so grateful to the Americans for joining the war, were still reluctant to let France reclaim the crowning gem of her colonial empire.

“Remember all the good things. You came here a young woman; you leave a lady. Wherever we go, we take with us the scars and the karma we’ve earned.”

No one said goodbye, for it was considered bad luck at the start of big journeys. Never tempt the spirits. It was better to pretend those leaving were only stepping out for a moment. Blinking back tears, everyone put on a happy smile, and the party set off into the murky dawn.

thought you would resent me for this hard life.” They lay on their sides facing each other. She ground her knuckles into his palm, like mortar and pestle. With a little shrug, she said, “You have not broken my heart. I have no reason to resent you. A hard or an easy life, that’s destiny.”

Over the years, Tuyet had given her four jade bracelets as nest eggs, but Coi had sold three of them one by one the moment someone came to her with a tale of woe. Suffering had made Coi sensitive to the pain of others. When Tuyet scolded her, she shrugged, saying, “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?” Tuyet could only throw up her hands crying, “Oh, Auntie, why is it that we are so good at poverty?”