A swarm of motor scooters zoomed past like angry, wet hornets and disappeared into the night. Hanoi was like a hive when it came to scooters. Few people could afford cars.
Bin ignored the scooters and forced himself to smile at Hng. She smiled back, but the corners of her mouth twitched, revealing her nervousness. On impulse, she checked the pocket of her new coat again. Yes, the gift was still there. Wrapped in a small piece of tissue paper and tied with a pink ribbon.
The silver necklace with the pearl from Halong Bay had cost Bin the equivalent of sixteen American dollars. An exorbitant amount of money, thought Bin. But the American lady will be grateful.
Bin’s mind turned to Hng’s new coat. She will need it. It can be very cold in the United States. A long blast from the van’s horn interrupted his thoughts and he watched as Hng quickly climbed in to join a handful of young women who sat on the floor of the van. Bin had opted to leave his other daughter, nine-year-old Linh, back at their apartment with her grandmother. It wasn’t simply that he didn’t own a car. He often pedalled with both children on his bicycle. The real reason was he was afraid he might cry. He didn’t want Linh to see him cry. Especially when she was scheduled to leave next.
The children’s mother died of cancer when Linh was six months old. Bin’s own mother lived with them, but time had been hard on both her body and her mind. Hng, despite being only three years older than Linh, had taken on more of a role of a parent than that of a sister.
Bin started to close the doors but Hng looked at him and quickly blurted, “Con thng cha tht nhiu.”
Bin replied, “English now, Hng. You speak English.” He paused and said, “And I love you a lot as well ... but now it is time for you to be strong.”
“I am strong,” she replied, trying to make her face look stern.
Bin hid his smile and said, “I know you are. I will be anxious to talk with you.”
“I telephone in United States,” said Hng. “Six months.”
Bin shook his head and replied, “No. The word is weeks. Say weeks.”
“Yes. Weeeks,” replied Hng. She frowned at her mistake.
“Good. That is good. You call. Linh and I will be waiting.
You be sure it is good before I send Linh.”
“Con có th hy sinh tt c vì ch.”
“English ... please.”
Hng sighed and said, “I will do ...” she hesitated, searching for the word she was looking for, “whatever ... you ask.”
Bin smiled and said, “Good. Very good. I know you will do whatever I ask. I ask that you do whatever for Linh, too.”
Hng nodded seriously as Bin closed the doors.
Minutes later, Bin held his bicycle and stood silently in the rain staring at the empty street. His heart and stomach felt like they were being wrenched from his body. The image of Hng waving at him through the back window of the van would forever be etched in his memory.
Bin climbed on his bicycle and pedalled toward his apartment. He brooded about his last-minute decision not to send Linh to America on the same boat as Hng. People were angry with him, but eventually he was told that the American family understood.
The American family had lost two daughters in an unfortunate accident. The Americans wanted to fill the emptiness they felt and were willing to take his daughters into their home. They would pay for them to go to school in America.
Perhaps, some day, Bin would be allowed to go to America, too. For now, they agreed that Hng would travel first. Another boat was scheduled to leave when it was known that the first boat arrived safely.
Not that there was any real danger, Bin had been told. The passengers would be smuggled into the United States from Canada. Even if the authorities caught them, the worse that would happen is that they would be returned to Vietnam.
If that happened, Bin knew, he would face some criticism from his own government. The opportunity for a prosperous and happy future for his children was well worth that risk. He was told that if all went well, eventually the right people in America would be paid and both his daughters would become American citizens.
