Rason & Eliza - Cee Bowerman

Cee

1.

“Are you my big sister?”

Eliza

RASON

“My son! You came home! I thought we’d lost you!” My mother, ever the drama queen, rushed toward me for a hug. I couldn’t help but smile at her antics as the tiny woman hurried across the kitchen to greet me at the door, chattering in Vietnamese all the while. She looked me up and down and then frowned. “Why are you so dirty? Does your washing machine not clean your clothes?”

“My washer works fine, Mom.” I laughed. “I got on the road the minute I left work. I didn’t want to be late, so I didn’t go home to change.”

My mother shook her head as she started muttering in Vietnamese again. She was talking so low that I only caught a few words, but the gist of her grumblings was that I needed a woman to take care of me.

“I brought something to make your disposition a little sweeter.” I smiled at her as I brought the bag I was holding around from behind me. Her eyes twinkled, but she shook her head.

“No gift can make up for your absence,” she huffed before she turned back to the stove. “You can’t buy my affections.”

“That’s too bad.” I pretended to be sad as I sat down and set the bag on the table in front of me. “I had the grocer order these just for you. I’d hate to see them go to waste.”

I watched her head turn slowly in my direction and laughed at the look on her face.

“Rambutan,” I said quietly. “Ten pounds of them.”

“You are kidding me,” Mom whispered.

“You know, in the Vietnamese culture, it’s considered polite to bring fruit as a gift when you’re invited to dinner at someone’s home.”

Mom gave up trying to hide her excitement and gently slapped me on the shoulder as she peered into the paper sack I’d brought. “At least you learned something I tried to teach you.”

“How’d I do?”

“You did good, Dai. You did very good.”

“Son! I thought I heard your voice. Figured I’d give your mom some time to lay on the guilt before I came in and rescued you,” my dad boomed from the doorway that connected the kitchen and dining room. He sidled up to my mom’s side and peered down in the bag before he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Let me have my boy, Mai.”

My parents were polar opposites as far as looks went. Standing at a still muscular 6’4” with light brown hair and bright green eyes, my dad looked like a giant next to my mom. She was 5’2” if she was wearing shoes, had coal black hair, and her brown eyes were so dark that they were almost black.

They were an unlikely pair, but the love between them was real. I’d never once seen or heard them argue, although I knew they had to have disagreements now and then. When they had disagreed on something, they’d done it far away from us kids. I appreciated that because I couldn’t imagine how kids felt when they heard angry words between their parents.

Mom was distracted, probably thinking about what she was going to do with the fruit I’d brought her, and answered him in Vietnamese, “For just a minute. Dinner is almost finished.”

My dad, fluent in the language, answered, “Smells good, just call us when you’re ready. Come on, son. I want to show you my new project.”

I stood up from the table and leaned down to kiss my mom’s cheek, glad she was happy with her gift. Dad and I made small talk about the changes he and Mom had made to the garden this season and how work was going for both of us as we walked across the backyard toward the garage.

“This is my newest baby.” Dad smiled back at me as he pushed the side door of the garage open for me to walk in ahead of him. There were plastic bins over against the wall, and I saw that they were full of engine parts. I assumed they went to the rusted out frame of the car in front of me. “A 1951 Hudson Hornet convertible.”

“Wow!” I was amazed at his find. “They only made a couple hundred of these. How did you find this?”

“Well, that computer you three insisted we should have has come in handy,” Dad admitted Me, my brother and my sister had insisted that my parents needed a computer and access to the internet, and even though he hated to admit