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Chapter Nineteen

LAN

Vivi and I rode home in silence. Even the brisk rain couldn’t extinguish the burning inside my chest. As I reluctantly watched her back disappear behind the dormitory doors, I thought about the way our hands touched, the way my fingers lingered on her back, and the way she hung on to me.

I slip inside the house, careful not to kick Tri ? t while tiptoeing past the living room. I’m dripping wet from head to toe, my clothes leaving puddles on the floor behind me. M á snores softly from her room, the ceiling fan whirring above. Tri ? t, to his credit, doesn’t snore. He’s sprawled across the bamboo mattress in the living room with two pillows tucked under his arm and a stack of engineering books piled next to his head. In the dark, I bump into the living room table and groan.

“You’re back?” Tri ? t mumbles, half-asleep. He rubs his eyes and yawns, making me jump.

“Shh, you’ll wake M á up!” I whisper-yell.

He sits up and clears a space on the mattress for me to sit down. “Relax. She’s not going to yell at you. You’re grown.”

I shove the pile of textbooks onto the floor, grimacing at its weight, and sit down. Outside, the thunder and rain drown out all the sounds of Sài Gòn. “Not that… I just don’t want to wake her up. She needs rest.”

He gives me an incredulous look and bursts out laughing. “Is that what you tell yourself? It’s not because you don’t want her to find out about your girlfriend?”

“ Girlfriend?” I scoff.

He slides back down onto his back and shoves me away with one leg. Offended, I slap his arm.

“Go to bed. I don’t need your negative energy right now. I have an exam tomorrow,” he says.

“Here’s some good energy,” I say, making rippled waves with my arms pointing at him. “Feel it yet?”

He pretends to catch the nonexistent energy waves. “Sure. You can tell me all about your date tomorrow.”

I roll my eyes. “Who says that I’ll tell you?”

“Then who else are you going to talk to about it?”

I smack his arm again, earning a hiss from him. “I’m going to sleep. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Good night, little sister!”

Plopping onto my own mattress, I look up at the ceiling above my bed. Glow-in-the-dark stars and constellations stare back at me. They’re cheap stickers, a gift from Ba. M á thought they were ugly, but I was so insistent that she gave in. The stars still glow brightly even though years have passed, as if they’re trying to remind me of him. We’d lie in this room together just like this, counting stars until I fell asleep.

Look at the stars, con. Can you see B?c ??u th?t tinh?

I’d nod at his words, pointing out the shape of the Big Dipper. It looks like a spoon.

He’d laugh. Do you see how ??i Hùng tinh and Ti?u Hùng tinh are next to each other?

I’d nod, noting the Big and Little Dipper side by side. Why are they always together?

Because, con à, you always need someone by your side. But you see the Big Dipper? That’s me. Con, you’re my Little Dipper. Ba will always be with you.

A heavy weight settles on my heart. I twist and turn and avert my eyes from the ceiling until they land on the pile of picture books that Ba gave me. They’ve been collecting dust in this closet. I turn away from the books and face the wall instead. It’s better not to think about them right now. I need to sleep.

Or not.

Frustrated with myself, I get up and walk toward the books. I take the first one, a story about a girl magically transported into a world with a talking cat and magical cards. I flip the cover open, and an envelope falls out of it. To Lan , it reads.

I wrinkle my eyebrows and pry the envelope open, smoothing my hand over a birthday letter written by Ba a long, long time ago.

My Dearest Daughter,

Con, Happy Birthday! You are my brightest star, Lan. You make me the happiest father in the world.

You are my greatest treasure, my star, and my compass.

As you turn ten today, you must remember: Always be kind, always be clever, and always love.

My daughter, you are everything to me. Please don’t grow up too quickly.

Tears stream down my face. My mind returns to when Ba gave me this very book, when he had wrapped it in orchid-patterned paper and set it on the dining table with a birthday cake and plenty of egg tarts. I hold the letter close to my chest, feeling its weight—feeling the love inked from Ba. No matter how long he’s gone, I’ll always remember.

I flip open the leather-bound notebook, and on a new page, I start writing. In the flickering candlelight, my hand glides across the page as words and words spill out of me. A sense of euphoria grips me, and I feel like I’ve broken through something. Like I can write again, and here I am, writing about a beautiful city that calls my name and the girl that exists with me within it.

The girl who shows me I am enough. That no matter what, I can write.