Oi Magazine reviews - Aura & Co. Infrared Sauna Studio,Thao Dien... "Heavenly Heat"

twisted it.
“I asked you to pack one thing, and you
forgot. You’re so useless.” He was loud and
angry, “Can’t you do anything right?”
She was holding back tears. “I’m sorry.
I was busy with the children.”
“What do I pay the nannies for?” he
shouted.
“There were so many things I had to
do before we left. It won’t happen again.
Please let go of my hand. You’re hurting
me.”
I could tell she was in pain, and I was
terrified. Aunt Hai asked him to stop,
handing him a bottle of brown liquid, and
he let go of Ma’s hand. He was still angry
and started to drink heavily. He yelled at
Ma some more while my aunt took me
upstairs.
I was so disappointed with the way the
day turned out. I was really afraid of Ba
now. I didn’t have a chance to talk to Ma
again that night and felt so bad for her.
The next morning I got up early and
went downstairs hoping to catch Ma alone
before I went to school. Everyone was still
asleep except for the servants, who were
just getting up. I went into the kitchen and
found my favorite maid, Sen, helping the
cook with breakfast.
“I’m sorry about yesterday, Lien. Are
you OK?” Sen asked.
I shrugged, wanting to say I was not
all right. I wanted to start over; I wanted
a peaceful visit from my parents, not a
terrifying one.
“Do you want something to eat, child?”
the cook asked.
“Can I have some coffee?” I felt grown
up all of a sudden.
“You know coffee is not for children.
How about some hot milk?”
“All right.”
Aunt Hai entered the kitchen, and
when she saw me she let out a sigh and sat
down next to me.
“You’re up early today.” She put her arm
around my shoulders. “You don’t have to go
to school today, Lien. Why don’t you sleep
some more?”
“Can I go to school? Please. I don’t
want to stay home.”
She looked at my sad face. “All right, if
that’s what you want.”
Later, when I came home from
school, my parents had already left. Ma
Amy's family the day before they left Vietnam
and I hadn’t had a chance to talk, and my
questions for her were left unanswered.
I felt a little guilty that I hadn’t stayed
home to say good-bye to Ma. I just didn’t
like what Ba had done and felt very
uncomfortable around him. When I told
Aunt Hai about how afraid I was of him,
she asked me to forgive him and pray
for him. She told me that now that Ba
was handicapped, everything was more
difficult for him, and that was why he
had acted that way. I thought, ‘I would
rather pray for Ma.’
Chapter 30
Saigon 2016
Amy's mom and her in Hoi An 2016
Dinner at Chi Hoa restaurant Saigon 2016
We took a seven-seat taxi to our old
neighborhood. I sat next to Anh so I
could talk to her, making up for lost time.
It was Sunday, but the traffic didn’t seem
any better. Thao and her boyfriend were
fascinated with all the scooters snaking
through traffic with ease. Some of them
carried huge amounts of merchandise
on the backseats. We saw people on the
scooters carrying boxes, plants, chairs,
and mirrors. It looked so dangerous,
but this was normal everyday life to
the Vietnamese. Things needed to be
delivered, and this was the only way they
knew how.
“At least everyone is wearing helmets,
though, so that’s good,” Thao said while
she was taking pictures.
“Are there a lot of scooters in
America?” my nephew asked.
“Mostly cars. We have winter, and it’s
really cold, so cars are more practical,”
Thao said.
I was so proud of her speaking
Vietnamese to her cousin. She spoke
with a thick American accent, but they
understood her, and Thao understood even
more Vietnamese than she could speak.
We got closer to my old
neighborhood, but I didn’t recognize it
at all. The area used to be so green, with
houses and big properties. It had become
busy blocks of businesses, and houses
were built more narrow and tall, as land
was so expensive. None of the houses had
yards anymore. Anh pointed out our old
school when we passed by; it looked so
different now. It used to be more spread
out, like a California campus. Now it was
one tall building with a tiny little front
yard. Ma pointed out a couple of houses
where our old neighbors’ still lived. The
rest had moved away.
2016 return to the old neighborhood in
Saigon, Amy's mom, Di Hue, Amy, daughter
Lisa, sister Anh, Anh’s sons and Amy's
husband Don
The taxi dropped us right in front
of Di Hue’s house. We got out, and Ma
started to get emotional as we stood
there staring across the street. Our old
house was gone. Six new houses had
been built on our old property. The water
spinach pond was gone too, replaced by a
couple more houses. My sister had made
a mistake in listening to her ex, and she’d
sold the house when real estate prices
were low. Right after she sold it, the
government opened the door to doing
business with foreigners. That was when
the prices of houses and land shot up
dramatically. Ma was still bitter about it
sometimes, saying Anh could be so rich if
she hadn’t listened to her ex-husband.
I understood Ma’s feelings; it was the
house she had risked her life for, fighting
with those soldiers. To me it was a sad
house of darkness, and I was glad it was
gone. Maybe my sister felt the same way
and didn’t hesitate to sell it.
“Ma, let’s go inside. Di Hue is
waiting,” I said, pulling her away from
staring across the street.
OI VIETNAM
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