Page 34 of A Banh Mi for Two
“It’s really fascinating how similar some foods are between different cultures,” I comment, still digging through my chè ba màu.
“You’re really passionate about food, aren’t you?”
I blush. Maybe I’ve been thinking too much about food lately because of Lan. Definitely because of Lan.
“Oh right,” Bà Hai says while reaching for a pot. I step forward to help, but she swats my arm away. “How are you and Lan getting along? Her and her mother make great bánh mì. I always cater from their business.”
My jaw goes slack. “You were watching me?” If there’s one thing about older Vietnamese women, it’s that they always know what’s going on.
Bà Hai scoffs, throwing her arms in the air. “Of course! Have to make sure my students are staying clear of trouble.”
I lean farther into the countertop, my hands wandering to the nearest bottles of spices—they’ll reach for anything when I’m nervous.
“Lan is great. We’re hanging out a lot together because… well, I’m helping her with something”—that sounds super shady—“but she’s showing me all these cool things about the city.” I feel myself instinctively smiling, like I always do when I think of her. “I really like being around her.”
Bà Hai ruffles my hair and swats me away from the countertop, prying the bottles from my hands. “Be a good friend to her. That girl works the hardest.”
Bà Hai doesn’t need to tell me twice. I know Lan works the hardest, I know she’s always trying her best. So with a nod, I say, “I will.”
“Here, take these lychees for yourself, I just cut them up.” Even with my protests, Bà Hai presses the plate of fruits into my hand and ushers me out of the kitchen.
The plump fruits stare back at me, their juice glistening under the hallway light, and suddenly, I see Mom’s face in the shape of the plate. I see her skinning each lychee with care, fingers pressed on the husk and peeling it away to reveal the white flesh. I see Mom smiling, her face full of warmth as she gestures for me.
But the memory fades, and I’m reminded of all my lies and what’s left unsaid between us.
Chapter SeventeenLAN
Ch? B?n Thành, the largest market in Sài Gòn, welcomes me and Vivi with its imposing clock tower. Even among Sài Gòn’s busy streets and tall business towers, Ch? B?n Thành stands out with its beige paint and French architecture. But the best part is inside: A giant marketplace houses Sài Gòn’s bustling stalls full of food and people.
“This is it. The place from my mom’s photo,” Vivi says beside me. “I can’t believe I’m standing here, right where she was years ago. It feels… weird.”
I don’t say anything, only nod. Is this how Americans are? Vietnamese people are blunt. We tell each other the first thing that comes across our minds. My thoughts wander back to when she told me about her grand plan to hide her trip to Vi?t Nam from her parents and find the people in the photographs on her own. I found it unfathomable, and I still do, because wouldn’t it be easier to just… ask? Do Vivi and her mom not communicate with each other? Why go through the wild goose chase when they can just talk? Then again, it’s not like I’ve been doing a whole lot of talking with Má either. Plus, I’d told Vivi I’d help, and I don’t plan on breaking that promise.
I help Vivi hop off the motorbike, her ponytails kissing my cheeks. She dusts off her skirt and, without warning, takes my hand again and tugs us both out of the parking lot and toward the colorful market.
My heart skips, my eyes zeroing in on our clasped hands, and I suddenly feel all too aware of my palms slicked with sweat.
“Calm down! The market isn’t going anywhere,” I say, but I speed up my pace to match Vivi’s. “I know where to find the person we’re looking for. She’ll still be here, don’t worry!”
Vivi shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about. You didn’t think this entire excursion would only be about me, did you?”
I furrow my brows. “What? We agreed to come here to see if anyone knows your family—”
“We can’t miss our chance for more research! Come on, we have competition.” She draws us closer to the heart of the market and into the surging wave of the crowd.
I feel light on my feet with Vivi next to me, and my mind replaying what she said. Part of me is touched that she planned this day for both of us, that she thinks of me. But another part of me wonders if it’s because she’s not ready to find out about her family yet. I know how that feels. It’s how I feel about the books Ba left me. When you’re so close to the answer, you almost don’t want to keep going because it’s safer to stay in the dark. Because maybe knowing is the scariest part.
We continue to dodge people pouring in from every direction—vendors carrying goods to their stalls, customers haggling with shopkeepers. “This place is just amazing,” Vivi breathes.
“You don’t have anything like this in the States?”
She drags us toward a jewelry vendor. “We do. We have Phu?c L?c Th?, or Asian Garden Mall. They have small vendors like this inside and even performances sometimes. They have night markets, too, kind of like street food in a parking lot, but it’s nothing like this. Like being right here in Vi?t Nam.”
“Well, Phu?c L?c Th? probably doesn’t have a live fish tank.”
She makes a face and pinches her nose at the salty smell of fish wafting through the air. “Nope. They do not butcher the fish’s head off right in front of people, either.”
I shrug. “What’s that thing you say? That whatever happens around us is what makes Sài Gòn so special?”
