I looked at all the peasants peddling wares, some shirtless and half asleep in the shade, all too thin, their hands listless, their long yellow fingernails pointing down, their skin deeply darkened by the sun. I stopped and questioned the one nearest to the door.
“Did you see a man, a Frenchman, in a beige tropical suit and a little girl here?” I asked him, glancing at his calloused bare feet and his pile of sugarcane. Lucie loved sugarcane and was still taken with the fact that people consumed the sweet substance in raw form in Indochine. How I wished she were here now, chewing the fibrous stalk.
“Sugarcane, madame?” the vendor asked in French.
“No,” I said, shaking my head vigorously. “But did you happen to see—”
He waved his sugarcane again, repeating his request through his smile. It was foolish to think the sugarcane vendor would have understood more than a few words in French. I repeated the phrase in Annamese, to the best of my abilities, but he just shook his head no. Lucie would have translated better than I did. Where was she? And where was Victor! I gave the vendor a few coins and backed away.
I ran back inside, my lungs tight, my breath shallow, and checked the clock above the ticket booth. The train to Vinh was set to arrive in two minutes. I rushed to the rear of the building, exited onto the platform, and inspected the scrum of travelers. One man I recognized from the French Officers’ Club. He gave me a friendly smile, and I returned it but quickly twisted myself to the side to avoid his gaze, a new wave of panic crashing on me. I pulled down my hat and looked at every person standing on the platform except for him. I looked at them twice. I walked across the platform and stared at them from the other side. I even went to the edge and glanced down at the tracks, holding my breath, praying that my husband and child weren’t lying there, unnoticed yet flattened and dismembered, but there was nothing but steel and tufts of grass poking up between the ties.
There were still no bells ringing to indicate the arriving train, so I slipped back inside to see whether Lucie might be in the ladies’ room looking for me. She was not. I again covered every inch of the station, indoors and out. There was no Lucie, no Victor. My head felt heavy, yet I was filled with an almost painful energy that refused to dissipate. I ran back to the waiting area, sat on the wooden bench where we had left Victor, and started to sob. If Victor were with me, he would have been deeply mortified by the state I was in, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t anywhere.
I dried my face with the edge of my sleeve. My eyes were tired, unfocused, but I felt compelled to blink the feeling away and keep searching through the blur.
I stood up and darted off again, this time nearly tripping the stationmaster, who was headed to the main entrance, surely to greet another rich French family in hopes of a big tip. He stopped abruptly when he saw me.
“Madame Lesage!” he exclaimed, taking his handkerchief out of his pocket and pressing it into my hand in one elegant movement. “What is the matter? Please sit down here,” he said, guiding me to a wooden bench in the waiting area.
“No!” I snapped through my sobs. “I need to sit there! Right there. They’ll be coming to find me.” I indicated the bench where Victor had been. He nodded, his hand outstretched to guide the way.
“Can I assist you in some way, Madame Lesage?” he asked after we sat, handing me yet another starched handkerchief as I continued to cry. I hadn’t used the first one yet.
“Yes. I hope you can,” I sputtered, clenching his handkerchiefs in my fist. “Something just went terribly wrong.”
“I’m sure I can help,” he said gently. “That’s why I’m here. Please tell me what’s upsetting you.”
I looked up at his concerned face and tried to get the words out.
“Just a few minutes ago I went to the washroom to clean my daughter Lucie’s dress,” I said. “To get out a shoe-polish stain. A boy, a shoeblack soliciting my husband’s business, had pushed up against her with his greasy brush, making a terrible mark on her white dress. But I couldn’t wash