The Frangipani Hotel: Fiction (26 page)

Ms. Nguyen bent her knees and felt short of breath. Sunlight was crawling through the windows, turning the world white again. She let go of the banister. The old ghosts were flooding in, and Ms. Nguyen realized as she leapt that she was falling into their waiting arms. In the space of time between her toes leaving the landing and her body crumpling as it hit the floor at the bottom, she looked through the front window and saw that the tank was back, planted triumphantly in the middle of the lawn, glowing reddish in the early morning sun. It did not belong here, but neither did she.

Ms. Nguyen lay sprawled on her left side, with her leg bent at a strange new angle beneath her. She decided that it might be a good idea to begin yelling but discovered that her mouth was already open; tears were on her face, and people were running toward her. She heard herself making loud, animal yelps, and the sound surprised her. But by the time the medic came, Ms. Nguyen had calmed herself down enough to inquire when her daughter would be arriving.

F
OR THEIR SUPPORT
, patience, and guidance, my deepest gratitude goes to: Cindy Spiegel, Molly Friedrich, Lucy Carson, and Molly Schulman; Don Weber and the sage members of the Mount Holyoke College English Department; the Pham, the Block, and the Kupersmith clans; and the friends scattered from Yorkshire Road to South Hadley, from London to the Mekong Delta.

And to Valerie Martin, for everything.

V
IOLET
K
UPERSMITH
was born in rural Pennsylvania in 1989 and grew up outside of Philadelphia. Her father is American and her mother is a former boat refugee from Vietnam. After graduating from Mount Holyoke College, Kupersmith received a yearlong Fulbright Fellowship to teach and research in the Mekong Delta. She is currently at work on her first novel.