Authors: Ong Xiong
Michael had
discovered her missing yesterday morning from his condo. He had tried calling
her but she didn’t answer. He left her messages, but she didn’t return his
calls. Worried, he went in search of her and found her at his townhouse,
sleeping. He placed a kiss on her forehead. She gave a shuddering sigh and a
tear rolled down her cheek. She’d been crying. He wondered if she remembered
what she had revealed to him while she was drunk.
Sue had told him
something about a baby. She had mumbled Khyba, Khyber, something like that. He
wondered what she meant by taking vows and being used. He could guess and piece
the information she had involuntarily shared, but he wanted to know the meaning
behind her words.
Needless to say,
he couldn’t leave her last night. He had slept in the second guest room across
from her room. He awoke to her door opening. He should have that door greased.
After some time, he didn’t hear her door close and was about to check on her
when he saw something move outside.
Wrapped in a thin
blanket, Sue walked to stand in front of the French door of his room and turned
to look at the sky. He saw her attempting to puff circles and chuckled. The
longer he watched her, the more forlorn she looked even when she succeeded in
puffing a pathetic circle and he saw her chuckling.
When she returned
to bed that morning, he sneaked out, not wanting to freak her out at his
presence. He was glad she had agreed to have lunch with him. He had teasingly
tried to pry the story out of her, but she had successfully evaded the whole
subject all together. By the time they reached the park, they were discussing
the importance of keeping extremities warm while ice fishing.
“I’m not baiting
you. I’m just stating my opinion that’s all. Come on. It’s only pictures,”
Michael said, ushering Sue toward the displays. He wondered if she had had an
abortion. Perhaps that was the reason for her current state of agitation.
“No. You want to
see it, you go.”
“Does it bother
you that much? The display?”
“No.”
“As a physician,
what do you think?” he asked. She frowned, more like a scowl, but he decided
that it was a frown. Choosing his words carefully, he added, “Is it too
personal?”
“As a physician,
I treat! What I think is irrelevant—let go Michael. Grab me again and you might
lose that hand!”
“Ouch. Feisty. I
like that,” he stated arrogantly, not releasing her hand. “I like a woman who
can—”
“Wipe that smirk
off your face?” she interjected, trying to
free her hand
from his strong grip. To her surprise he kissed the back of her hand.
Michael laughed
as he twirled her in a dance before pulling her to him. With her back pressed
against his chest, he crossed her hands in front of her. Covering her hands
with his, he tickled her neck with his warm breath as he whispered seductively,
“I like a woman who can handle me in bed.”
As his words
registered, Sue laughed. “Come on Casanova, let’s get you out of this park
before the female birds starts flocking,” she said in between laughter, leading
him out of the park, back the way they came. He was still holding onto her
hand.
“Birds?” Michael
asked.
“You’re
peacocking,” she answered without breaking a stride.
“Pea…what?”
“Google it.”
“Or you can just
tell me.”
“I’ll tell you
over lunch. I’m hungry.” She led him to the café they passed on their way to
the park.
They ordered
sandwiches and sat in one of the small tables for two by the window. As they
ate, they talked.
“What kind of
Hmong are you?” Michael asked before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“The only kind
there is,” Sue said, getting ready to bite into her own sandwich.
“Which would
be…?” He let his question trail off, waiting for her to answer while he took
another bite of his sandwich.
“Hmong.”
“I mean, are you
White or Green?” he asked after swallowing his bite.
“Both.”
“Both? Are you
going to make me work to get an answer from you?”
“No work, but
it’ll cost you.”
“Oh? And what
would it cost me?”
“Dessert.”
“Chocolate?”
She nodded.
He puckered his
lips, pretending to ponder. “I get you chocolate, you answer my questions.”
“That depends on
how good the chocolate is.”
“Hmm…how about
that nice, big slice of chocolate cake?” he asked, gesturing to the slices of
cakes in the deli displays.
“Add a slice of
that cheesecake and you have yourself a deal!”
“You drive a hard
bargain,” he said, grinning.
Smiling, she
shrugged and continued with her lunch.
“Deal. Now answer
my question.”
“My father’s
White and my mother’s Green.”
“So in essence,
you are truly Ha-mong?” he teased. “So, I wasn’t entirely wrong when I said you
are Mong then.”
“I don’t care for
the political debate on Hmong or Mong, Michael. It’s like me asking if you’re
white or Korean.”
“Touché.”
At that moment,
Sue wondered why her ethnic background never came up with Jae. Jae never asked
her about being Hmong. The subject of their different backgrounds was never
questioned, and now she wondered why Jae never showed any interest in her
heritage. Sue brushed it aside, attributing the lack of interest as part of…
Focus
!
“Are there
conflicts as a physician and your religion?” Michael asked, wiping his mouth
with a paper napkin.
“No.”
“Shamanism
doesn’t interfere?”
“And why do you
assume I practice shamanism?”
He shrugged.
“Google?” she
asked.
“Guilty.”
“Wikipedia is not
a reliable source,” she told him.
He chuckled.
“Don’t insult the power of the Wiki.”
“Oh my!” She
gasped with mocked horror. “Should I watch what I read now that I’ve insulted
the great Wiki?”
“If I were you,
I’d be cautious of what I read for a while, you never know.” He shrugged.
Laughing softly,
Sue asked, “Should I go to a shaman then?”
“You might have
to.”
“What about a
priest?”
“If you must.”
“Nice weather,
don’t you agree? I mean, it’s winter, yet here we are enjoying a nice sunny afternoon.
I think that’s lovely,” Sue said, cheerful.
“I rather talk
about what you think … about shamanism. I mean. I’m curious to know. I read
The
Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down
and
Tragic Mountain
…”
“And because of
those readings, you think you know all there is to know about a Hmong person?
Assuming that all Hmong practice shamanism and have experienced this whole
tragic mountain incident?”
“No, but it’s a
start.”
“You’re baiting
me again.”
“Is it working?”
“A little.”
“Tell me, from a
physician’s point of view. Enlighten me on my, how shall I put it…er…cultural
incompetency?”
Sue laughed.
“Cultural incompetency? I’m hardly the person to make you competent on the
subject matter. I have a Ph. D. in medicine, not Hmong history.”
“And?”
“When I talk, I
preach,” she warned.
“I’m feeling
spiritual.”
“Don’t say I
didn’t warn you.”
“I’ll consider
myself warned, now, preach away,” he encouraged.
Sue took a bite
of her sandwich, chewing, debating whether to play into his ploy. By the time
she swallowed her bite, she had made up her mind. Why not have fun, she
thought.
“I think when
people think about shamanism, people think about voodoo dolls and medicine
men,” Sue began. “In the Hmong culture both of these don’t apply, at least I
don’t think so. I’m not an authority on the subject and I don’t claim to be.
That was another disclaimer, by the way, if you didn’t catch it.”
“Caught it,”
Michael replied, grinning.
“Good. I wouldn’t
want to be accused of lying.”
Michael laughed,
gesturing for her to continue.
“From my own
experience and just from my own observation with my family, the Hmong believe
in the human spirit. Whether that is categorized under shamanism, I don’t know.
When one’s ill, it is believed that the spirit is in distress causing the
ailment, like pain cuing the body something’s wrong. To treat the illness, the
spirit must be treated or appeased of sort. I believe in the power of prayers
and spiritual healing along with modern medicine. Medicine helps the body and
prayers help the soul. How one prays is based on their religion. Having a
strong spiritual belief whether through prayers or shamanism helps one heal.
Maybe not the body but the spirit and some believe in that. Religion is
important to people, Michael. Whether they believe in God or not, they still
believe in something and if I preach otherwise, I’ll do more harm than good,
which I feel violates the oath I took. What?”
“Just wondering.”
“About?” Sue
asked when he didn’t say more.
“You.”
“What about me?”
she asked frowning.
Michael shrugged.
“What made you decide to be a doctor?”
“What made you
decide to go into business?”
“I’m good at what
I do and I’m the best at it.”
“Wow. You really
are full of it.”
“Of what?”
“B.S.”
Michael laughed.
“B.S?”
“Google it,” she
said, grinning.
They continued
their conversations on the subject of religion and the Hmong culture all
through dessert. When they finally left the café, it was well into the
afternoon. They returned to the park.
“What about this
whole tragic mountain incident? You might not have been an active participant
but what about your family? Your parents?”
“One of the great
stories of the Thao family is the exodus to Thailand during the Vietnam war. My
father, especially, enjoys recounting his participation in the war and
recounting the story of their journey to Thailand. Although my father tells of
glory, I have gathered enough to know it is not all glory. I had an older
sister named Mai Houa whom no one mentioned in this story. I didn’t learn about
her until one afternoon I was cleaning chicken with my mother and an old friend
of hers. I learned about Mai Houa during their conversations. I asked my mother
but she brushed it off. Late one night, while up with my grandmother, I asked
her and she told me.” Sue paused as they sat on a bench, watching passersby.
“From
grandmother’s description, I believe Mai Houa had cerebral palsy. Mai Houa was
six when they made the journey. At the time, there were four small children. My
maternal grandfather carried my eldest brother, Tou, on his back with a
nyias
.”
Seeing Michael’s
confused expression, Sue explained. “A
nyias
is an embroidered sling.”
Michael nodded and Sue continued, “My father carried Mai Houa and the other
adults carried the rest of the children and supplies. Their journey began
without incident. They stayed off the roads. Just before they reached the
Mekong, guns went off and they were separated. My brother, Tou, always compared
the event to fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“When they were
able to regroup, my maternal grandparents were missing. My father found Tou and
Tou led him to my grandfather. A bullet grazed Tou’s knee, hitting my
grandfather. While dying, he told my brother to run forward, to look for my
father. They never found my grandmother.
“Things went from
bad to worse quickly after that. They ran out of food long before they reached
the Mekong. They were attacked again when they reached the river. Mai Houa was
injured by a bullet. She saved my father’s life.
“Unable to carry
Mai Houa any farther, she was left behind with some water and whatever food
they could spare. Since she was dying anyway, others encouraged my parents to
leave her behind so they did. They crossed the Mekong with makeshift rafts.
Long story short, they made it to a refugee camp where they met others who journeyed
after them. An aunt, I don’t know who, my grandmother never mentioned her name,
recounted that they met Mai Houa, who died shortly after they met her.
According to my grandmother’s calculations, that was about two days after my
family left her.
“My family never
recounted this part of the story. It was always Tou getting grazed, my maternal
grandparents dying and the crossing. She was left out completely as if she
never existed.” Sue sighed, looking at Michael. “So you see Michael, I never
experienced the whole tragic mountain incident, but I grew up with it. War
changes people. My parents never spoke of Mai Houa again, but my sisters and I
are constant reminders of the daughter they left behind, and my brothers remind
them of what they sacrificed. Because of that, I was always reminded to make my
life worth living.”
Michael nodded.
“Your turn.
What’s your story?”
“My story’s
boring compared to yours. Mom was adopted from South Korea, raised in a very
Scottish family, married my father and made four babies. I’m the youngest.
According to my sister, Heidi, I need to grow up and get married. According to
my sister, Ada, I’m a handsome devil. According to my brother, I’m grown and
need a bride. Family expectation? For me to stay alive.”
Sue laughed.
“Well, Mr. Handsome Devil, perhaps you should find a bride and start making
babies.”
“I have no
trouble making babies…which I enjoy doing.”
Sue blushed at
the way Michael looked at her when he said that. They continued talking, making
dinner plans as they made their way to the dress shop where Sue had an
appointment with Katie.
“I’ll see you
later,” Michael said, placing a quick kiss on her lips, more like a peck, very
quick, very…intimate.
“Michael,” Sue
took hold of his arm as he turned to leave. “About yesterday… I’m sorry.”