Chapter Thirty-Six: Linh

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX LINH

It’s crushing to see my parents look scared. Because when they’re frightened they’re no longer the people who raised me to be strong, but strangers who look older than they really are.

The inspector came by. He’s Vietnamese as well. He gave my parents a brisk handshake, clipboard under his armpit, but before stepping into the dining area, he gave a good sweep of the room, eyes calculating. I wondered if he was judging us, how we lived. I wanted to yell that this was all a cruel joke. It was embarrassing to have him rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, bending over and checking under the tables, feeling along the walls for cracks and damages.

Despite the Health Department clearing us, I see how the rumor has done damage afterward—small, but damage nonetheless. Customers who’d visited us daily dropped off until Ba, turning on his charisma, appealed to them, explained the situation, offered them discounts on future meals. The favors that my parents were so reluctant to ask for are used now to recoup whatever unquantifiable loss the rumor had cost us. Luckily, it seems like the stream of new customers hasn’t been affected.

There’s no way to tell if Bảo’s talk with his mom helped in that matter, but the next time I saw him, he said his mother promised to have a word with Nhi Trưng, the real culprit. He doesn’t say much more, though. Sometimes I catch him spacing out, eyebrows furrowed. I’m prone to daydreams, but not Bảo. So he must be bothered by something.

I would hate it if his relationship with his mother was tainted by this. Even if she did play a part in spreading the rumor—even if—I don’t want to demonize her. Just like I wouldn’t want Bảo to demonize my own parents for their prejudice.

He feels maybe more unreachable, even as we spend most of our free time at Chef Lê’s restaurant, finishing up the mural. I like painting from this height; I’m untouchable, unreachable, too… and everything below is smaller. Issues farther away.

That same distance seems to overtake my parents. I rarely see them in the morning, and when I work after school, they’re preoccupied at the restaurant. Dì Vàng’s visit is only a few days away, too. It’d be impossible to bring up what I heard from Bác Xuân. Lately, Bảo doesn’t seem as intent on finding out more about our families’ shared past.

I feel, somehow, that me and Bảo are running out of time. That the both of us are being pushed toward an edge, but we won’t know if we’ll go over until the very moment it happens.