The Emperor of Gladness

by Ocean Vuong

“Okay, let me look for a bathroom,” Hai tells her in Vietnamese. Before he could take a step further, she grabs a lidded earthenware pot from a wall shelf, clearly an antique, and puts it on the floor. “Bà ngoại!” Sony squeals as Bà ngoại squats over the pot, the sound of dribbling filling the room, and faces the boys, her eyes shut with relief. Hai covers Sony’s mouth. As she finishes, a patter of footsteps approaches. “Hurry up.” “Get me that towel!” Bà ngoại says. Hai hands her an embroidered cloth hanging on a rocking chair. She cleans herself, tosses the rag in the pot, and closes the lid. She’s putting the pot back on the shelf when Carol circles back. “Okay, folks, so we’re gonna come right through here back to the foyer—oh, oh dear! Here, let me get that, hun.” She rushes to Bà ngoại as Sony and Hai back up against a wall. Carol takes the pot and helps her hoist it on the top shelf with a grunt. “Woo—heavy. They don’t make ’em like they used to.” She pats the pot on the shelf. “Now. Please don’t touch the objects. They’re originals. I know, I get it, it’s tempting. History is fun.” She turns to the boys. “Isn’t it, guys?” Sony and Hai both nod. Bà ngoại shrugs and gives them a wink.