Chapter 20

Karole rode with Lanh and Don to the hardware store for the tree. “Ah don’ git it,” said Karole. “Eight hours ago, the wind wuz howlin’, th’ snow wuz flyin’, Ralph said it was life threatenin’. Now it’s all pretty, an’ the roads are clear!”

“That’s life in the north,” said Don. “We’ve lived down south; life is incredibly easy compared to life up here.”

Soon they were in town and at the tree lot, a large tent was set up in the hardware store parking lot. Live trees were sorted by type and height and the scent of the trees was nearly overwhelming to Karole. Lanh hung on her arm, and they wandered through the tent, enjoying the scent of the pine. Chestnuts were being roasted, the choir from the Lutheran church was singing “Ding Dong Merrily on High” and kids lined up to see Santa, who had a real reindeer in a paddock behind his throne.

Along with trees, you could purchase wreaths made from pine, hemlock, blue spruce, and holly. The wreaths were decorated with ribbons and ornaments or were bare for you to decorate yourself. As they walked around the tent and inspected the trees, Don purchased them all a scalding hot cup of apple cider and he got a paper cup full of roasted chestnuts that they all tried. “Mah Lawd this is good!” said Karole after a sip of the cider.

“We need to introduce you to Tim Hortons,” said Don. Soon the choir became roving carolers and elves that rang bells, collecting money in their round iron pots for the church food bank.

This was Christmas in small town America. It was as real as you wanted it to be. Karole was sure they had things like this in Georgia when she was a child, she heard her friends talking about them, but her mother was too drunk and too broke to indulge Karole so for her, Christmas was a poorly wrapped pair of socks and maybe a doll or two from the dollar store and something on TV while her mom and her current “paramour” nursed their hangovers.

Damn them.

Soon the tree of their choice was wrapped in a nylon net and placed in the back of the pickup, and they were heading back to the farm. Karole had a burning question that she’s been aching to ask, but she was afraid. “Who is Angela?”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, then Don said, “she is, or maybe was, Trung’s wife.”

“They broke up?”

“We don’t know. Trung won’t talk to us,” said Lanh.

“We think Mai and Duong know what is going on, but the last time we saw Angela was before we went to Korea, years ago.”

“Ah’m sorry, Ah didn’t want a dig up bad feelings. It’s jest ... the kids asked if she wuz mah sister.”

“Angela was blond and busty,” said Lanh. “She was not a nice person.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Don, who barely knew her.

“She just wanted to be a hockey wife. She kept pushing Trung to try out for the NHL, he just played hockey for his scholarship,” said Lanh angrily. “All she talked about was a big house in Ottawa or Toronto, or Montreal. She said if he got traded to Buffalo she was going to dump him.”

“Bitch,” muttered Don.

The children were seriously played out when Don, Lanh, and Karole returned to Campbell’s farm with a 7 1/2 foot tall Balsam fir in the back of the pickup truck. The kids had been sledding down the tractor ramp on the back of the barn, so Don and Huy were able to set up the tree in relative peace while the kids watched Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman on TV. Karole and Kim-ly were snuggled up on the couch with Lanh between them. They were wrapped in handmade quilts, and Karole’s quilt weighed a ton! Sandy explained that instead of normal batting, this quilt was filled with old sheets. That made it so much heavier, but considerably warmer, too. Mai and Duong snuggled together in the love seat. Sandy and Ralph rested in their recliners after the evening milking that Trung and Bao helped with, and Karole watched them watching their children and grandchildren prepare the house for Christmas.

To Karole, the whole day was a scene from a movie she could watch, but it reflected a completely alien experience for her. It was something she always hungered for, a huge loving family brought together in love and mutual respect, celebrating traditions that began organically because it felt good to do it, and for no other reason. Traditions like the girls making lefse while the guys arrange the furniture and set up the tree, like hoisting the smallest grandchild up to put the angel on top of the tree, like adding one more piece to the train every year (this year was people for the station platform), like building Kim-ly’s tunnel for Don’s train, like watching Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman while eating popcorn with the kids.

As the darkness outside deepened, the tree became a work of art. Don and Bao carefully placed the old school tinsel on each branch of the tree, and Karole marveled at the care they took to get each strand to hang perfectly. As she watched, Karole realized Lanh was nudging her. “You ok?” Lanh asked.

Karole suddenly realized she was crying again. “Um, yeah ... I’m fine.” She wiped her eyes with the tissue that Lanh gave her. “I guess it’s just hormones,” she lied.

“You’re an awful liar. What’s really wrong?” Karole just looked away, but with surprising firmness, Lanh put a soft little hand on Karole’s chin and turned Karole’s head, so they were eye to eye again. “Let’s go,” and she urged Karole up and led her to the parlor, followed by most of the women in the family. They seated Karole in a comfortable chair and Sandy offered her a cup of tea, and Lanh continued, “This is a no judgement zone, anything you say is fair game and I won’t think anything less of you. This is Vegas, what’s said here stays here. Please tell us, what’s wrong?”

Karole looked like she was going to burst into a storm of tears. “This,” she whispered. “All of this.”

Lanh thought Karole was evading the question or that the Nguyen/Campbell mob felt like a threat to her. “What did we do? Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s not that,” said Karole. “Y’all didn’t to nothin’ to me. It’s just ... All of this, the smiles, the kids, the ... the ... the love! Ah ain’t never had nuttin’ like this. Y’all so nice and considerate, sweet and lovin’ to each other.” Lanh had asked her to explain. Now Karole couldn’t hold back. Once the dam is breeched, you can’t put the water back in the pond. The torrent started and she couldn’t stop, and soon Sandy and Mai were handing her tissues as the tears flowed. Lanh, Sandy, Mai, and now Kim-Ly simply clustered around, knowing that letting it out was the best thing she could do.

“An’ ah seen some of the gifts you git each other, and it’s not the gift, it’s jes you talk to each other and find out what each other or each other’s kids likes and does and wants to do ... you care! Wanna know what ah got for Christmas when ah was ten? I got ignored. Mah momma and her new beau drove down to St. Augustine for three days and left me in a mobile home with a pantry full of canned soup and a box of pop-tarts.”

She thought of the Norman Rockwell-esque scene she saw; the kids laying on the floor playing Candy Land, Jake sitting by the fire reading a Christmas story from a braille book to Arlo and Him-chan, Don, Bao and Huy decorating the tree, Ralph and Trung playing cribbage in the adjacent dining room, and Ahnjong appeared behind Karole to gently rub her shoulders just because she looked stressed. “Ah ain’t used to this!” Karole almost shouted. “Ain’t no one threatened to punch no one, they ain’t no stack a’ empty Bud Lite cans nowhere, no hound peeing on the couch, ain’t no kids with black eyes and bloody noses. I ain’t sayin’ that’s the south, ah’m sayin’ that’s the trash I grew up with, ah know fer sure you got the same kinda folk up here ‘cause I almost married one.”

Mai patted Karole’s hand and said, “So what is the problem? Six words, boil it down to that.”

Karole’s tears had stopped as she vented, but now as she paused, her eyes welled up with tears again. “Ah don’t deserve none of this.”

The women paused; how do you answer that? Sandy knew the answer. “It’s ok to feel that way honey,” she said as she gently stroked Karole’s hand, “because you’re absolutely right. None of us deserve this, and sometimes we forget that and think we’re entitled to it.”

“What ... what do you mean?” Karole sniffed.