Page 35 of A Banh Mi for Two
She laughs, her ears red and exposed by the pigtails on her head. “You’ve been listening.”
“And I have it written down. It’s a good line.”
She beams. “Then let’s find more things to write about!”
I follow Vivi’s trail while she busies herself with investigating every single vendor, curiously sweeping her eyes over all the colors and shapes in front of us. I clear my throat, aware that our hands are almost touching again. “Are you having a great time?”
“Of course—oh!” She squeals excitedly and points to a row of embroidered blankets before holding up one with a tiger and taking my hand, running my fingers over the silk—her hand on top of mine. “Isn’t it so soft?” She coos.
The fabric is soft, much softer than anything I own, but Vivi’s fingers are softer. They’re also searing into my skin. I yank my hand away quickly as my heartbeat hammers throughout my body and my throat. Turning away to hide my flustered face, I nod. “Yes, you should buy it.”
“But do you like the pattern?”
“The tiger looks lovely, but…” My eyes trail to another blanket, this one embroidered with stars. “This one reminds me of Sài Gòn on a clear night, when you can see the constellations and the moon.”
Her gaze follows mine. “That one? You like the night sky?”
Flustered, I shake my head. “No, pick what you like.”
Still, she picks the starry blanket and tucks it under her arm, ready to dig for her purse. “I’m choosing this one, and I’m buying it for the memories.”
“Memories?”
Sticking out her tongue at me, she opens her wallet to pay for the fabric. “Yeah, to commemorate today. Every time I look at it, I’ll be instantly reminded of when we went to Ch? B?n Thành together.”
I avoid her eyes, planting them on the grimy market floor. The millions of imagined butterflies swarm my stomach as my pulse quickens. “Back to research.” I try to not think about her skin on mine again. “What can we write about?”
“Don’t you see it, Lan?”
“What? It’s just a market. Aside from, I don’t know, the live fish we talked about, it’s just like any other indoor marketplace.”
“It’s not!” she protests, extending her arm to point at various shops. “Even though this place can be smelly and loud, it’s like its own tiny world. To you, these sounds and smells are home, so you don’t find it odd. To me, it’s new. It’s different. It’s beautiful.”
I look at the girl next to me, bewildered by the world around her. I think of Vivi’s Asian Garden Mall in Little Saigon and wonder how different it is from my own city. Do people sell different things? Do they haggle like us? Does Little Saigon feel like home to her?
Nodding, I take in her words, my eyes observing the market in a new light. Fresh vegetables cultivated by calloused hands. Splashing fishes and eels and clams caught by fishermen whose livelihoods depend on the sea, who always brave the water no matter the storm. Silk fabric sewn intricately by women who do it all for their families. Food chopped, cooked, and served in front of customers by people who should be world-class chefs.
“Write the Sài Gòn that you see, that you experience. Write from your eyes, Lan.”
I swallow a lump in my throat, Vivi’s words tugging at my chest, but it doesn’t feel heavy. Rather, my body feels light. Like something has been unlocked. “Thank you, Vivi. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Maybe I wouldn’t have entered the contest. Maybe I would never have found out about it, if she had never sent it to me.
There are so many people around, but I only see Vivi. Only her eyes locking on mine, their sincerity never wavering.
“Lan?” someone calls from behind us, making me jump. A stout lady peers at us, carrying a coconut in one arm and a stack of fabric in the other.
I smile, folding my arms and offering a slight bow to Cô Ngân. Vivi does the same. “Chào Cô, how are you?”
“Lan! I haven’t seen you in so long. Are you well? Have you eaten?”
Another smile tugs at my lips at her question. For Vietnamese people, asking if someone has eaten is how to say I love you.
“Yes, Cô, thanks for asking,” I say.
“Who is this?” Vivi whispers to me.
“This is the person I was telling you about. The owner of the áo dài store in this market.”
She swallows. “Oh. I guess it’s time… to ask.”
