Chapter Forty-Seven: Bảo

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN BẢO

Tết in Little Saigon means tons of road closures. The few police officers who didn’t grow up around here look befuddled by our penchant for bouncy music, performances from dojos, and bedazzled floats filled with flowers—lots of them. The American flag and South Vietnamese flag hang along light poles.

The air is filled with the smell of fried sweets—bananas, I think—and the crowd ranges from young to old. Little kids run along, some struggling in their bright silky áo dài, followed by a parent looking stressed out and clutching their child’s mini khăn đóng. But the hate of hats is universal in kids their age. Old dads try locating their wives, who’ve abandoned them for friends; today’s their day off. I sputter when some stray balloons collide with my face. A sunshine-y version of “Xuân đã về,” celebrating the arrival of spring, blasts from a float made out of straw. Miss Teen Vietnam, California, sits perched at the front, waving prettily from it. People holler from the crowd.

“Look at how skinny she is,” Mom mutters, clutching her purse to herself. She then nastily eyes a pack of girls who inadvertently pushed her to take pictures of the passing float. As much as she hates crowds, she always makes a point of attending the celebrations. I think it reminds her of her childhood. And she always manages to run into some Vietnamese friends.

The cash prize is the other draw, ranging from five hundred to five grand. “How else will we pay for college?” Ba replied when I asked why we entered with little chance to win.

Scarily, there was no joke in his tone whatsoever.

The usual float from Vietnam America TV 57.3 passes. Another float comes by, some local florist shop, and they’re launching bouquets into the crowds. Mẹ smacks my dad on the shoulder. “Look at the flowers!”

Lo and behold, she isn’t the only middle-aged Asian oohing and ahhing at the flowers being thrown to the crowd. With swiftness that surprises me, my mom jumps to grab a bunch, holding them over her head victoriously. Ba makes some joke, though I can tell he’s proud of her.

Just then, I see the familiar swish of hair across the street, standing behind the fence. Linh. She leans over, peering for the next float to come by, and she’s smiling. That’s my girlfriend across the street. A real girlfriend. As opposed to…? says a voice strangely like Việt’s in my head.

Could she be more beautiful? This time, she’s tied her hair in a side braid and is clapping along to the music.

Linh is with her parents and another woman who must be her aunt. She has long hair just like Linh. She mentioned she was visiting. I push my way up to the front, earning some elbow jabs along the way, but I can’t help but feel as if something is pulling me toward her. I wave my arms wide, yell out her name.

She notices.

What are you doing?her panicked eyes seem to say.

There’s nothing to be scared of anymore! Our parents know we’re seeing each other, I say back with my eyes. When nothing changes in her expression, I realize that we haven’t mastered telepathy just yet. Behind me, I hear my parents calling my name, confused.

The crowd is so ferocious that it crushes me against the fence. Linh still looks scared. At this point, neither her parents or her aunt have noticed me… but then she does. The aunt, at least. Her face goes slack, stopping me in my tracks. I’ve never seen anyone turn white that quickly, but why at me? But her eyes don’t lock on me; they slide right past me… zooming in on my parents, who, I turn and realize, froze in the middle as well.

It’s like the meeting at the Buddha temple again.

Then something weird happens. Linh’s aunt turns…

And runs.