Chapter 15

Before Don realized it, his lit assignment was due. He really bit off more than he could chew with it. His five-thousand-word story was well beyond a thirty-thousand-word novella and pressing into a full-blown novel, but he kept on researching. He spent hours and hours on the phone, talking to people who barely understood English, needing a translator when they spoke, and needing a shoulder to lean on because the stories they told were so heartbreaking. He kept writing, keeping in mind that he had to boil it down to a ten-minute synopsis and present it before the Christmas break. He had to do good; it was all for Lanh, every word.

And soon it was time...

Don stepped out onto the lonely stage. A single spotlight shone on him, blinding him. There was no lectern to rest his notes on. Lecterns were built to hold your notes, but their primary purpose is to hide behind. “We’re waiting!” came the nasal voice of Miss Weberman.

He cleared his throat and squinted through the glare at his notes. “My name is Donovan Campbell, and the title of my story is Journey to Freedom. It is a biographical story of a family’s escape from persecution.” Don hated standing on stage and being stared at, but it was time to present his story for Applied American Literature. Don was second to last in line to make their presentation. Lanh will give her a recitation on her story about Marissa when he is finished. He typed up his entire story, then took it to the graphic arts class and had it printed and bound. Thirty thousand words, sixty pages (one hundred fifty pages for the teacher’s double spaced version), hours of interviews and typing on that ancient Gateway computer of his dad’s, practicing his presentation over and over. It all came down to this.

Miss Bernice Weberman was Don’s freshman English teacher, and she flunked him back then, now he wanted to nail one to the wall, to present an English paper that would re-define the grade of A+, one that was so good she would have to grade him top in the class, a paper that would ring in the annals of academic excellence. But it is also engineered to make the Beached Whale rethink her hatred of Lanh. If he did it right, Bernice would see past her hatred and grade Lanh appropriately. He hated being alone on the stage with a single spotlight shining on him; it blinded him so he couldn’t see the audience. Did Weberman plan it that way? Also, how did she fit that tremendous bulk into the theater seats in the auditorium? He shuddered in pity for the chair that had to support that monstrous flabby ass, and the thought of her squeezing so much blubber into that poor seat was both humorous and terrifying. He thought she must be terribly uncomfortable, so he took his time.

“Please, Mister Campbell, if you don’t mind, we are all waiting to be illuminated by your brilliance.”

She sounds uncomfortable. He had to stifle a grin. “In the summer of nineteen seventy-four, it was clear to the population of South Vietnam that the US Government was going to renege on its promise to support the government of South Vietnam and leave the people helpless against the tide of communist aggression. As the North Vietnamese captured territory, they would summarily torture and execute anyone that they saw as threats, along with their families. Soldiers, intellectuals, local politicians, and Christians were their primary targets. They were human lawnmowers, slicing through any obstacle.”

“The people of the parish of Saint Augustine in a small forgotten village near Saigon saw the writing on the wall and rather than abandon their faith, they chose to relocate to any other country that would take them and allow them to worship God in freedom.”

Don then spun the tale of the 110 members of the St. Augustine church who took the dangerous and deadly journey out of Vietnam. Many of their men were impressed into the remainders of the South Vietnamese army. On land they were assailed by robbers and bandits, and on the sea, they were attacked by pirates. They didn’t know that they were the first of a wave of more than nearly two million refugees to leave Vietnam. His story centered around Pham An Tri, a twenty-two-year-old woman who made the journey with four children. She lost her husband when he was pressed into the South Vietnamese army as the country fell and was never heard from again. Don also spoke of Nguyen Tai Minh, a 23-year-old man with three children whose wife was raped and killed by pirates in front of him and his children. Both families survived harrowing misfortune and eventually found refuge in Canada, and the story ended with them being allowed entry into the United States in 1980. Of the 110 who started the journey, 73 survived and made it to their new home in Minneapolis.

In the audience, Lanh looked in amazement at the spiral-bound book on her lap. Like Miss Weberman’s copy, hers was special too. It was much thicker than Miss Weberman’s copy because so much of what Don discovered was left out of the final version. He put all that extra information in Lanh’s copy, and the cover was soft pink, the color of rose quartz, her favorite mineral. There was another page in there that no other copy had. The page was hand calligraphed and said,

To my Dear Wife This wedding gift is a gift of love and passion for you and your family. I share it with the world in the hope they grow to love you as I do. In so many ways, I fell in love with everyone in this book and the amazing journey that brought us together.

This is the story of our family.

All my love, Donovan

He waited on stage expectantly for his grade. After a long pause, Miss Weberman spoke. “You covered it all Mister Campbell, characters, setting, conflict, theme, plot, exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and conclusion. It was well constructed; it is truly a shame that I must give you a grade of F.”

Don was not shocked; to be honest. He had expected this. “May I ask why?” He held his copy of his story up to shield his eyes from the spotlight so he could see the beached whale as she explained her grade.

Her fat face and multitude of chins were covered with smug glee as she said, “First of all, you went three minutes over time, which cost you some points, but mostly you classified this story as biographical when clearly it is historical fiction. For that, I must give you an F.”

“Ma’am, are you saying that this is a work of fiction? That I made this up? What do you base that decision on?”

“It is far too fantastical, Mister Campbell. These people clearly could not have survived such a traumatic journey! Obviously, you made it all up. Move along Mister Campbell, we have one more student to hear from.”

But Don didn’t move from his spot on the stage. “Let me introduce some people that can help you understand the background of my story.” Don gestured off stage and four people slowly made their way from the wings to center stage. Looking up, Lanh shrieked in surprise. The entire class heard her squeal and laughed at her response as she slid down into her seat.

Hearing her squeak, Don smiled, but he continued, “Allow me to introduce Nguyen Tai Minh who made the journey at the age of 23, and his son Nguyen Hieu Duong who made the journey at the age of four. With them is Pham An Tri, and her daughter Pham My-Duyen Mai who also made the journey at the age of two. I call these two Grandma Tri and Grandpa Minh, grandma and grandpa don’t speak English very well so these two will translate, I call them mom and dad. This is MY family and they’re going to help me answer any questions you may have regarding the presumed fictional nature of this story.” He peered at her with the script shading his eyes. “Any questions? Any at all? We’re waiting.”

In her seat, Bernice Weberman stewed in her own anger. The little bastard! How dare he presume to ... her thoughts were interrupted by a movement to her right. It was Mr. Landry, the vice principal. He was sitting in the row behind her. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the seatback next to her, clutching a copy of Don’s story.

“It was a marvelous story, I like it,” he said softly.

Before she could remark on Mr. Landry’s audacious comment, a movement to her left caused her to look to the left. It was Mrs. Gunderson, the principal, leaning forward also with a copy of the story.

“I had lunch with Mrs. Pham and Mr. Nguyen, delightful people! Their insights really bring this story to life. We are thinking of helping Donovan get this published. Oh, and did you know that their granddaughter is in your class? She’s a darling girl.”

As Mrs. Gunderson eased back into her seat, Mr. Landry asked, “Bernice, do you have any questions for Mister Campbell? He’s waiting.”

As Don waited, Lanh sprinted on stage and began hugging her grandparents, whom she hadn’t seen in months. And the class erupted in laughter as Don waited.

Inside the Campbell home, it was a Christmas wonderland. Lanh’s decorations went into overdrive. She even found a series of Christmas houses for the train under the tree at a garage sale and now the Santa Fe Southwest Chief provided service to a beautiful Christmas village straight out of the North Pole. Don added a ski chalet to Kim-ly’s mountain, along with several skiers.

Nothing escaped Lanh’s touch. All flat surfaces that couldn’t be covered with gaily colored tablecloths were covered with fake snow and mounded with Christmas decorations ranging from glitter-covered pinecones to evergreen boughs and tinsel garland. Even the lampshades in the living room were decorated with silver garland and dangling red ornaments. Lanh even found time to decorate the bunkhouse with an artificial tree, a holly garland on the old fireplace, and a handmade Christmas quilt to snuggle under on the couch.

The family gathered for the Christmas Eve feast. The same people were there as at the Thanksgiving feast minus the Davis family. The dining room was festively decorated in holly garlands, pine boughs, pinecones, and wreaths. Adding to the festive occasion was the candlelight that added a beautiful golden glow to the meal. Mai’s mother, Tri Pham (Grandma Tri), came up from Minneapolis to take part in Don’s American Lit presentation and stayed to celebrate Christmas with her daughter and grandchildren.

Grandma Tri is a tiny woman, barely taller than Lanh. Wrinkled and gray, but with an internal fire that Don could see from across the room. He could only wonder at the strength she had as a young woman, after losing her husband to lead her tiny children out of a collapsing homeland to an unknown future in America. Mai, Sandy, and Lanh led her around the house, showing off the decorations, and she was amazed and, in Vietnamese, complimented Lanh on her efforts. Finally, she spotted a warm place to rest in front of the fireplace, so she claimed Don’s wingback chair, pulled a warm quilt over her lap, and there she held court, greeting her progeny as they came to say hello.

This was the first time Don met her face to face, he spoke to her on the phone through translators, now she was here in his house, and he was terrified of meeting her, Tam and Kim-ly rightly informed him that what Grandma Tri says goes, she rarely wields her power anymore but if she returns to Vietnam she will go, and her family will follow. “Really?” gasped Don, now terrified that Lanh could end up in Vietnam.

“That’s mostly hyperbole,” said Tam, “but to be safe we don’t give her any ideas.”

Trung and Bao filled Don with stories of how much Grandma Tri hates white people. Now Don was even more terrified to meet her. What if she doesn’t like him and moves her family back to Vietnam to prevent him from marrying Lanh? But he couldn’t avoid it as Lanh dragged him to meet Grandma Tri. “Chào mừng bà ngoại Tri,” he said, terrified that he mangled the phrase “Welcome Grandma Tri.”

Her face lit up in a huge smile, and she grabbed his hand and began chattering so fast that Lanh could barely translate; “I’m happy to meet you ... I love your cows ... thank you for giving me your chair ... you should ... seriously? Grandma!” What Lanh said to her grandmother next was covered up by the raucous laughter of her brothers and sisters.

“What? What did she say?”

Lanh looked at Don nervously, “She said we should elope and that you’re um ... hot and we should ... um ... make babies a lot.”

Don laughed in relief and laughed at Lanh’s embarrassment, as Grandma Tri joined him in the laughter. Lanh angrily said “Ok, you two can have a nice sex talk, I have dinner to prepare,” and she stormed off amid gales of laughter and Kim-ly gladly assumed the translating duty, especially if Grandma Tri was giving sex advice.

A prime rib of beef from a steer that Lanh raised and fed for this very occasion, baked potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts with cranberries, and plenty of lefse, which Grandma Tri adored. Once the meal was finished and dessert was still being considered, Kim-ly loudly reminded Lanh that she and Don had wimped out of The Kissing Game at Thanksgiving.

“I didn’t see you playing either,” said Lanh.

“I didn’t have a date, YOU did!”

“Ok, we’ll play, but I want to see a five-dollar bill in front of everybody,” insisted Lanh. Her elf ears and elf hat didn’t detract from her fierce glare.

“You’re on!” said Kim-ly as she slapped a five on the table. Laughing, her brothers and sister reached for their wallets. Duong and Mia shook their heads and closed their eyes, smiling at memories of The Kissing Game from years past. In their day the game was called Hôn Hôn (kiss kiss) and was played with dice, but the effect was the same, you got to kiss. Ralph leaned back, smiling, his arm around Sandy. It felt good to have the house filled with laughter once more.

Don and Lanh rose and stood at the end of the table. They were standing in the doorway between the living room and the dining room. Behind them, the Christmas tree twinkled merrily in its darkened space. Above them hung that lacy white bell with the mistletoe clapper that Lanh loved so much, inviting them to kiss.

“Have you been a good little elf this year?” asked Santa Don. He was wearing a borrowed Santa Claus jacket that looked comical on his slim frame and a Santa Claus hat that drooped down over his eyes occasionally.

Lanh was dressed in her elf ears, a red elf hat with a bell and green feather, a red turtleneck sweater with a green button-up vest. “Yes, I have Santa,” answered Lanh, avoiding eye contact by looking down to her left with a smile.

“Ho, ho, ho!” called out Lanh’s father Duong sarcastically, which caused a chuckle from everyone seated around the large dining room table.

“That was my line,” said Santa Don, causing even more laughter.

Standing under the Mistletoe bell Santa Don turned to Elf Lanh and said, “Still not exactly a Pudgy Elf yet, are we?” he emphasized that by tickling her ribs causing both Lanh and Tam to laugh, all three remembering Don and Lanh’s very first kiss when Lanh dressed like an elf to teach Don the order of mathematical operations and he stole a kiss as they hid from Tam under the table. That kiss was another step that propelled them on this long, loving journey.

Looking at her family, Lanh was sure that she saw two tall blond women standing behind her parents. One had the tips of her hair dyed purple. It was just for a moment, and she saw them out of the corner of her eye, and when she tried to focus, they were gone, but for a part of a moment they were there, she was sure of it. “My angels are here!” she whispered to Don. “they’re watching us.”

Before Don could react, a raucous, “Get on with it!” was shouted by all five of Lanh’s siblings.

Playing the part, Santa Don leaned over a little bit and said, “Whisper into my ear what you want for Christmas little elf.”

The bashful little elf Lanh said, “What I want for Christmas is...” and with that, she drew in close and instead of pretending to whisper into Santa Don’s ear, she began nibbling on his earlobe and exploring his ear with the tip of her tongue, something she knew that “Santa” REALLY enjoyed. He enjoyed it so much that he was sure his erection would be a topic of conversation for Christmas gatherings to come.

Recovering his wits from her exquisite tongue action, Don stood and said, “Ho, ho, HO! You want a kiss from Santa, little elf?”

Lanh played coy, biting the tip of her finger and twisting from side to side until her brothers and sisters yelled again, “Get on with it!”

”Đi đi mau!” shouted Grandma Tri, causing even more laughter, Mai laughing the hardest at her mother’s outburst.

Lanh yelled, “Yes!” at the top of her lungs and launched herself at Don. The moment their lips met; Tam slapped her hand down on a cheap plastic timer the Nguyen children used to play games in their youth. They started cheering and jeering at their youngest sister as she passionately kissed the man she chose.

The siblings knew how the game was played; they went for the throat, the sure-fire, never fail game stopper. They laughed and cajoled the couple, but Don and Lanh ignored them. But at a pre-arranged time, with over fifteen seconds left, Tam struck her spoon against her water glass making a loud ping! and all the Nguyen youngsters groaned like they lost a bet, rose, and started a disheartened slow clapping saying, “You win Lanh.” Don almost pulled away, but Lanh, suspecting her siblings were up to something, wrapped an arm around Don’s shoulders and held his head in place with her small hand. There were groans and the siblings sat back down defeated, they couldn’t get the new guy to break the lip-lock with their best move before the allotted time, so they waited out the last seconds with the usual jeers until the timer went DING!

Don and Lanh kissed a little longer, then stepped apart and bowed to the applause of the entire audience. Then, smiling in innocence, Lanh went and collected a crisp five-dollar bill from each of her brothers and sisters, but also from Angela and Ahnjong.

She walked back to Don, fanning herself with the money, her face aglow with pride and the joy of pulling one over on her brothers and sisters. “What do you think honey?” and then so quietly only Don could hear, “a start on our house?”

Then, just as quietly, Don replied, “I’m going to ask him.”

“When? Tonight? After midnight mass?”

“Now.”

Lanh squealed and jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and planting rapid-fire kisses on his face, and whispered in his ear, “That’s why my angels are watching!” She hopped down, and he led her by the hand into the dining room. Suddenly, the room went silent. Everybody knew something important was going to happen. Don and Lanh started making their way around the table. Huy and Ahnjong had to move out of the way to let them pass. Soon they stood hand in hand in front of Duong, who pushed his chair back and turned to face them, his face covered with a serious scowl.

“Sir,” started Don, his voice started out a little nervous, but it suddenly became assured, “Lanh and I want to marry. We love each other dearly, and I will spend the rest of my life sheltering her, protecting her, and loving her. I want to be the father to our children that you are to Lanh, and my dad is to me. All we ask is your blessing.”

Duong Nguyen’s features went stone cold, he has always liked Don, and he thought he was ready for this moment, they all saw it coming but now the moment has arrived ... Duong saw his baby’s tiny hand in the hand of this callow youth, this usurper! ALL his children have foresworn marriage until their chosen degrees and accreditations were complete, and tiny Lanh hasn’t even finished high school. How dare he! “You know her older sisters haven’t married yet,” growled Duong.

Lanh squeezed Don’s hand tightly. This was a trap that she had warned him about. “I wasn’t aware that there was a Vietnamese tradition of only allowing your daughters to wed by age.” Don’s voice was steady, but inside, his guts were in turmoil. If Lanh wasn’t holding his hand so tight, he would have run off by now.

Duong glared at Don. Don was right, of course, but he couldn’t let this cur win. “I know you are both eighteen, but that’s too young, there’s no way I can give you my permission to...”

“I didn’t ask for your permission, I asked for your blessing ... sir,” Don interrupted. Interrupting the father of his intended was probably the worst thing he could do, but marrying Lanh was the most important thing Don had ever done, and he wanted Duong to realize that he was serious.

The Nguyen siblings never saw their father go so silent for so long. He was clearly getting ready to explode. Poor Don and Lanh! Kim-ly whimpered in fear for them. Ahnjong gasped. She and Huy were talking about marriage, if this is what they must go through...

Duong’s gaze fell on his daughter. “What do you want little one?” His voice was softer with his baby.

Lanh’s eyes filled with tears, “I want to stop saying goodbye every night daddy. I want my best friend next to me for the rest of my life. I love him daddy ... we want babies, daddy...” Huge fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she implored her father.

How Duong’s face didn’t crack is a miracle. Lanh’s sisters were sniffing back tears, watching their baby sister professing her love for this young man. If only they could have such courage when their time comes! And Mai was utterly shocked. She knew the depths of love her husband had for their tiny daughter, how he didn’t start crying when he heard her heartfelt plea was a mystery to her.

All Duong could think about was the first time he saw Lanh ... so tiny ... so weak ... Barely two pounds. She almost didn’t make it home from the hospital ... and now here she is, begging to leave. Finally, Duong spoke. “Your mother,” he said, pointing at Lanh, “your father,” he said, pointing at Don, “And I have spoken long about this, we saw this day coming and we think you are crazy. You’re too young to start with! and being young you are prone to do stupid things,” he ended sadly. He paused for a long time, glaring at the young couple. Slowly he took a deep breath, then suddenly with a bark he exclaimed, “You want to get married when he is done with basic training? That’s stupid! And why? Because you want your wedding pictures with Don in his dress blues?” Lanh nodded; her eyes filled with tears of terror. Then at Don, he yelled, “And what if I tell you that you don’t have my permission to marry my daughter?”

Terrified but still firm, Don replied, “Then we will honor your decision and we won’t get married, but we will live together and raise our family without you until we do get your permission.”

Turning to his wife and Ralph, he said, “See? Stupid! There’s no way they can afford to live together on an Airman First Class salary!” Then he turned to Don. “If you’re not married you will not get housing allowance, you will be assigned to the barracks, you will not be given a food allowance and you will have to eat in the chow hall, she will have to fend for herself! It will be tough, there’s no way you could raise our grandchildren without those benefits, and you cannot get them until you marry. Did you think of that?”

Don stood firm. His knuckles and Lanh’s knuckles were white, their hands were clasped so tight. “Yes sir, we did. That’s why I asked for your blessing, not permission.”

Smart boy! The only way Duong could keep from smiling was to scowl even deeper. His face was hurting from the scowling, but it was almost time ... He pulled out a pocket calendar and rifling through it he looked up at Don and said, “And I suppose if I refuse to give you my blessing you would run off and get married in spite of my wishes.”

“No sir, not to spite you, but yes, we would get married.”