* *
Mai laughs when I hold Chien up to the screen. The cat meows and touches the screen with her paw.
“She looks so cute, Sam. Her hair is so white, so clean.”
Mai looks tired, drained. Chien lies down next to the keyboard between us.
Mai smiles at her. “You look good too, Sam. Did you work out?”
“Taught two classes tonight and worked out a little with each. Not too much. Got to ease back in.”
She’s wearing a beige tank top that shows off her beautiful shoulders and arms. Her raven black hair is slightly mussed, which looks amazing. Those green specked, brown eyes look heavy lidded as if it’s all she can do to keep from falling asleep.
“You look exhausted.”
“Oh, Sam, Mother is doing so bad. Father call doctor to the house this morning because she could not breathe good, and she was coughing blood more than before. The doctor is worried about the … strain? Yes, the strain on her heart. He says the TB is very advanced and the strain on her heart is worse.”
“I’m so sorry, Mai. I wish I was there with you.”
She nods for a long moment, looking directly at me. “I wish you were with me too. I am so scared.”
“She’s a tough woman.”
Mai wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “Not …” She looks away, and I can see her take a deep breath before she turns back to look into the camera. “Not any longer.”
I hear a soft knock. Mai looks to the side and speaks in Vietnamese. I can hear the sound of a door opening.
“Come, Father, I am talking with Sam.”
“Oh good,” I hear Father’s voice say. “May I say hello?”
“Of course. Sam, Father is here.”
“Hello, Father,” I say, as he kneels down so I can see him in the camera. Mai scoots her chair to her left so all I can see is her right shoulder.
He looks trashed too. No surprise, considering he’s been battling coercion from the Vietnamese mafia, lost friends in ensuing firefights, and lost a beloved teacher. Now he is watching helplessly as his beloved wife of some thirty years slides quickly toward death.
I grew up thinking my father had died in a North Vietnamese prison during the war. He, in fact, was in prison for several years, but fate led him to the unusual position of teaching martial arts to the prison commander. Through the training their friendship grew, and, as the story grows, my father fell in love with the commander’s beautiful daughter Kim. After the war ended, the commander helped my father remain in Vietnam, and my father married Kim two years later, fathered two daughters, and helped raise a stepdaughter. Over the years, the family built a thriving jewelry business, no mean feat given the confusion after the war, the anti-American sentiment, racism, and rampant corruption of government officials and law enforcement. It helped that my father has a charming personality, has tirelessly helped his community rebuild, and he speaks flawless Vietnamese. Interestingly, his slight physique and his Vietnamese-like mannerisms, have led many people to think he is indeed Asian or mixed race.
“You look good, Son. Rested from the jet lag? Oh, there is Chien. Sleeping like always.”
“I am, thank you. I’m so sorry about Kim.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you.” He is looking into the camera but it’s obvious his mind is with Kim. After a moment, he says, “Thirty years ago we were newlyweds. Now we are oldie-weds. In between, the most precious years of my life.”
“I wish I could have talked with her more while I was there. I found her to be a beautiful and wise woman.”
She was so sick when I was there I was able to talk with her only three or four times. Even in her illness and frailty, it was clear she was a powerful woman who loved her family deeply, and didn’t tolerate fools.
“Thank you, Son. I also wish you two could have had more time together.”
“I look forward to more times,” I say. Silly words. Meaningless, but they convey my love.
He nods; the gesture also meaningless, but it takes in my love. Father knows a thousand quotations for a thousand situations but he is at a loss for this one.
“How is your school?” he says. “You said you were anxious to check on it.”
“I taught two classes this evening. Trained a little, worked up a sweat, cleaned out the cobwebs.”
“Very good. The martial arts are a constant we can always return to, no? A place for us to take comfort; a place for us to seek; a place for us to find; a place for us to vent; and sometimes it is a place for us to hide. I am sorry we did not train more while you were here.”
“I got lots of practical experience,” I say without humor. “One of my new students is a kenpo black belt and a veteran of Afghanistan. I think he’s troubled by something that happened to him in the war. He said something about choosing my school because he thinks we shared similar experiences. I think he thinks I can help him.”
“Then help him, Son. You have been through much. Share what you have learned with him. Buddha said a thousand candles could be lit from a single one. And lighting the thousand will not shorten the life of the one.”
“I’m not sure if I’m ready.”
“You are. Chödrön says, ‘We work on ourselves in order to help others, but also we help others in order to work on ourselves.’ I have told you about Pema Chödrön before. She is one of my favorite modern day Buddhist teachers. She also says, ‘Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others.’ I believe you are at the door, Son. There is still darkness in you, but just keep opening the door to let in the light.”
“Yes, sir,” I say. “I will do what I can. I think he is a good man. Oh, one other thing. I have a tough decision to make. I’ve been offered a job in our Intelligence Unit. There have been a lot of hate crimes going on here in the last couple weeks and they want to get a jump on it. I’d be out of the public eye doing mostly intelligence gathering. I’d still have to carry a gun but …” I look away from the screen and Father’s gaze for a moment. I swallow and look back. His face is neutral. “I don’t know. If I were to pull the trigger again, to use your words, I’d be in darkness forever. But I feel compelled to take the position. Man, I’m so screwed up.”
Father lifts his eyebrows as if he’s surprised at what I just said. “You want some cheese with your whine, Son? We have talked about this before. You know the answer. You have already decided.” He tilts his head as if trying to peer around my defenses, which I’m sure he is. “Have you seen the woman doctor yet?”
“Yes.”
“Helpful?”
I nod.
“Son, I can see in your eyes the answer is within you. Reach in and extract it, no matter how painful or frightening it might be. He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes making me feel like a girlyman. “What time is it there, Son?”
