“Don’t drink anymore,” said Victor, letting me go. “And if you’re taking other things, other intoxicants, don’t take them. Please.”
Other intoxicants. I thought of the way the smoke from the burning, sticky opium had felt in my lungs when I’d needed it the most, on my way home from Dau Tieng, distraught and unable to calm myself on my own. I looked into Victor’s startling blue eyes, which glinted with the confidence built by generations of wealth and privilege. I wondered what it would be like to live the way Victor did. To have a good heart, a great heart, but one that only beat for certain people. Maybe my mind was somehow out of kilter, as he and doctors in two countries had claimed, but suddenly, that didn’t bother me so much. I had lost a part of my soul at Dau Tieng that day, but I knew a wisp of it was still there. I hoped that one day Victor would realize that he’d lost a part of his soul to those men, too. Even if he’d been too proud to notice.
“It’s nearly seven-thirty. We should be off soon,” he said as he stood up. He straightened his pajama pants and looked at me, more seriously. “Don’t make any apologies to the servants. They don’t expect them, anyway. Just act as if nothing unusual has happened, and they will do the same. We’ll all act the same. We will have our eggs and tea, dress, go to the station, and proceed as if the world has righted itself on its axis.” He touched my head. “Even if it hasn’t, exactly.”
“Of course, Victor,” I said, pushing back the covers and standing as well. “I think that’s best.”
He nodded and watched me as I put on a dressing gown and made for the door, eager to fetch Lucie.
“I’m feeling much better,” I said brightly. “Really. I feel like my old self again.” I walked out of the room and up the stairs, letting my put-on smile fade.
I was halfway up the stairs when Trieu stopped me.
“Madame,” she said loudly. I turned to see her standing in the hallway, looking as polished as always. “Shall we dress you before you see Lucie?”
I stopped and was about to shake my head no, but then I realized that Lucie might be more convinced of my recovery if I looked the part. With my hair a mess, and in a wrinkled dressing gown, I was hardly the picture of well-being.
“That’s a good idea,” I said, turning around. “I need to look quite elegant, as we are meeting Victor’s cousin, but also be fit for travel. We leave for Vinh shortly.”
Trieu nodded understandingly and escorted me to my dressing room.
When I was presentable, Trieu placed my lucky red hat on my head, the only sign that she knew I needed the world to be on my side today. I thanked her, happy to have an ally, and hurried upstairs to Lucie’s room. I couldn’t wait to see her.
“Mama!” she exclaimed as soon as I burst through the door. I was too excited to open it quietly, feeling Lucie’s absence like a hole in my heart. She was still in bed, flipping through a large picture book. When I approached her, I saw that it was written in Annamese. One of the servants must have bought it for her.
“I haven’t heard you call me Mama in a long time,” I said, sitting down and embracing her, careful not to crush her. “You sound like a little American. My little American.”
I could tell I was holding her for too long, but I didn’t want to let go. I waited until she wriggled out of my arms to sit back next to her.
“Are you not sick anymore?” she asked me quietly, looking down at her bedspread.
“I’m not sick anymore,” I replied, with a big smile. I inched closer to her and leaned softly against her.
“Oh, good,” she said, turning and hugging me back. “You’ve been sick so much, I worried you might not like Indochine. Maybe it makes you sad. Or allergic. Because you were less sick when we were at home.”
“It doesn’t make me allergic,” I said, reaching for her hand. “I promise. And today we are going on a trip. All of us. Did Papa tell you? We’re all taking a train together. Finally.”
Lucie nodded excitedly. “Finally!” she echoed.
“But first, a bath,” I said, helping her out of bed. When we were