Page 59 of A Banh Mi for Two
Aunt Hi?n turns her head to the corridor. “Do you want to meet your grandma?”
I wonder if normal kids get asked that question. Steadying my breath, I pick at my cuticles and nod. We stop in front of a small room with a pale blue door, the color mismatched against the dusty green of the walls.
Aunt Hi?n opens the door and touches my shoulder. “Just so you know, she can’t talk much.”
A shaky voice calls out from the corner of the room. Her voice is a deep rumble, both breathy and… sorrowful. “Is that Hoa?”
Blinking to adjust my eyes to the dimness of the room, I look at the elderly lady resting on the pile of pillows. She looks just like Mom but much frailer. I wonder if Mom knows that her mother is bedridden and calling for her daughter.
“Bà Ngo?i?” I murmur back, fully aware of the darkness of the room and how quiet it is. In Vietnamese, Bà Ngo?i means “grandma from your mom’s side,” and ever since I learned the word in Vietnamese class, I’ve always wondered if I would ever say it outside of the classroom.
She speaks in a whisper so low I would have missed it if I wasn’t holding my breath. “Hoa? You’ve come back? I’m so sorry, my baby. My Hoa.”
My heart tightens and I clench my fists. My own grandmother can’t recognize me, only her daughter. The daughter that left her.
Aunt Hi?n hurries over to Bà Ngo?i’s side and straightens her pillows. “She’s not doing well today. Please don’t mind her.”
Biting my lips, I glance around the room. It’s full of pictures of my mother and aunt. In every photo with Bà Ngo?i, my mom holds fake flower props—some behind her ears, some placed prettily on her lap like a bouquet.
I walk toward my grandma and sit on the chair next to her bed. I study her face, seeing some of my own features. I take her hand and smooth the wrinkles on her palm. Bà Ngo?i locks her fingers with mine and holds my hand delicately, as if I might disappear at any moment. As if I’m a flower about to leave with the wind.
“Bà Ngo?i, I’m Vivian. I’m so happy to see you,” I tell her earnestly in Vietnamese.
“Hoa, con oi.” The shakiness of her voice breaks into a sob. “You stupid, stupid girl. Why did you have to go? Why did you have to follow that boy? Why did you leave your mother?”
Aunt Hi?n sucks in a breath behind me before grabbing my arm and nudging me toward the door.
Still, Bà Ngo?i continues, her voice rising. “Stupid girl! Your mother is dying! Do you not have shame? No love left for your mother? All I want…” Her body convulses, her shoulders folding into themselves. “All I want is to see your face again. Hoa oi, Má thuong con.”
As Aunt Hi?n leads me out of the room, I begin to understand that love contradicts. That when you have an overwhelming amount of love for someone, you can hurt them, too.
Chapter Twenty-NineLAN
Vivi doesn’t talk the entire ride home. In fact, she doesn’t talk at all when we step inside her dormitory, either. Her eyes are sad, and my heart hurts as I reach toward her before her lips crash onto mine, and we stumble against the hallway of the dorm, her body pinning me to the wall. She dips her head, her mouth refusing to leave mine as her grip on my arms tightens. Heat dances in my stomach, but I can’t shake off the feeling that something’s wrong. All the giddiness evaporates, leaving me with all of Vivi’s hurt.
“Vivi.” I break apart from her lips, my breathing ragged. “What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t say anything and just takes my hand. I let her, my palm touching the softness of her cheeks. I wish I could undo all this hurt—all these negative feelings—make them deflate somehow.
“Sometimes,” she starts. “Sometimes I wish I could do more. I wish I could just snap my fingers and solve everything that’s been making me feel this way.”
Little does she know I feel the exact same way about her. How I desperately wish I could magic away all the pain she’s bottling inside.
“All these emotions inside me, I’m still trying to make sense of what they are,” she continues. “I don’t know how to feel. I’m angry, but I’m also sad. Then seconds later, I’m confused. And even after all this, after finding my family, I have more questions than answers.”
“Tell me about it. Take your time.” I tighten my embrace around Vivi, wiping her tearstained face with the sleeves of my shirt. Minutes pass, and we stay like that until her sobs slow down and her breathing calms and she can stand again.
“My mom kept all of this from me. The fact that I have an aunt and a grandma—a family here. But you know what’s even worse? She never told them I exist, either.”
There’s an overwhelming urge in me to absorb all of Vivi’s sadness for her, to somehow and someway make her smile again. “So they… didn’t know who you were.”
She nods. “I saw another photo of her I’ve never seen before. One of my mom next to a boy. She looks… in love. Just how many secrets is my mom hiding from me, Lan? How many things has she kept only to herself?”
“Do you not recognize the boy?”
She shakes her head. “No. He’s not my dad. But I think… she came to America with him.”
“Oh.”
