The Lotus Eaters_ A Novel Part 8

"What do you think, Linh? Our mysterious conduit to the north."

Linh looked up from his plate. "I think this rice is very good." The table burst out in laughter and when it died down, he continued as if he had not noticed the interruption.

"Many people in this country haven't had such good rice in years."

"Our Marxist Confucian mascot. 'Let them eat rice,' " Jack said.

"I'm sorry, but what do you know about Korea?" Darrow asked. "You're just a baby now. You could have been prom queen last year in high school."

Maybe, after all, she would not escape the night unscathed. "My father died there.

Nineteen fifty Chosin. My brother was in Special Forces. He died in the Plain of Reeds last year."

Darrow refused to offer sympathy. "Half of this table is probably here out of curiosity," Darrow said. "The other half out of ambition. Of course it's not not the excitement the excitement that draws us. We're in the business of war. The cool thing for us is that when this one's done, there's always another one--Middle East, Africa, Cambodia, Laos, Suez, Congo, Lebanon, Algeria. The war doesn't ever have to end for us."

"You're just a starry-eyed mercenary, huh, Darrow?"

A long silence followed, time enough for plates to be cleared and drinks poured, while Helen and Darrow stared at each other, then looked away, then looked back. The most arrogant man she had ever met; her face burned with anger.

"Wrong. I was prom queen four years ago."

Chortles and some hand claps. "Here, here."

"Where you from?"

"Raised in Southern California."

Robert coughed, wanting to divert what ever was happening across the table.

"What do you all think of the army's estimate that the war will be over in a year?"

Darrow sipped at yet another drink. "It'll be over if we quit. Isn't anyone reading Uncle Ho and Uncle Giap? 'We'll keep on fighting if it takes a hundred years.' "

"You don't believe that? No one fights a hundred years."

"I absolutely believe that. You would, too, Ed, if you ever left your airconditioned hotel room and slogged out in the jungle with us."

"I'll leave the heroics for you. Framed your Pulitzer over your desk yet?"

Darrow smirked, a shamed, lopsided smile. "Actually it was sent to my wife, so I've never seen it. I believe she hung it up in the john. She feels the check was the best part of the deal. Making up for my piddling salary."

Chuckles around the table. "Cry me a river, Darrow."

As curfew approached, the restaurant emptied; people hurried away with full gla.s.ses and bottles, promising to return them in the morning. The waiters pointedly stripped off tablecloths, turned over chairs. A bucket and a mop were propped at the door to the kitchen.

Jack turned to Helen. "So, should we have come here in the first place, la.s.s?"

"To this restaurant?" She smiled. Laughter. "In the briefing today they said eighteen hundred men have died so far. Eighteen hundred, including my brother."

"It's never too late, Prom Queen. Get out while the gettin's good," Darrow said.

"So what about a country's manifest destiny? What woulda happened if America had never come?" Jack said.

"We might all end up speaking Vietnamese someday?" Robert said. Laughter.

"Vietnam's destiny has not been her own for a long time. What about the French?"

Ed asked.

"The French were on their way out," Robert said.

"Only because Ho found something stronger than them," Darrow said. "If the French had never been in Vietnam, maybe he wouldn't have needed to unleash the genie from the bottle."

"And what a genie she is."

"Well, geniuses, we've figured out world politics for one night. I say we adjourn."

"Fine."

"Sounds good. Sports Club or the Pink?"

Outside on the sidewalk, the men formed a large, boisterous circle, but Linh stood off to the side. He said his good nights and walked away alone. Helen watched his slight, solitary figure move away. No matter how they patted him on the back and bought him drinks, he would always be on the outside of this good-old-boys' club.

Robert turned to Helen. "I need to go to the office. Is it all right if Jack takes you back to the hotel? I'll meet you back there in an hour or so for a nightcap?"

"Sure," Helen said, disappointed the night for her was already over, conscious that she, too, was now being excluded from the boys' club.

"I'll take her," Darrow said. He walked up and stood next to Robert, hands dug in his pockets, head hung down studying something on the sidewalk.

"No, it's out of your way, I'm sure," Robert said.

"Actually, I was... going that way."

Robert looked straight at him, his usual deference blown. "Where?" he said. "You don't even know where she's staying."

Darrow smiled. Everyone waited. "Everyone new stays at the Continental."

"Jack said he would take her," Robert said.

"I have a room there, too. Remember?"

"I'll go with Sam," Helen said. She gave Robert a shrugging, apologetic look, as if the choice were out of her control. "Maybe I can win a few arguments by the time we reach the hotel."

The men, entertained, realized the sparring match was over with a clear winner.

Ed grabbed at his heart in mock agony and staggered on the sidewalk. Robert bit his lips together; his face reddened. Jack clapped him on the back. "Come on, we'll drop you off, laddie."

Two jeeps with drivers pulled up, and they piled in like frat boys going out on the town.

"You two be careful now. The streets can be dangerous late at night." From inside one jeep, they heard, "Easy come, easy go, huh, Robert?" Laughter as the jeeps sped off.

"Well, I've put us in the middle of a little scandal, I'm afraid," Darrow said.

"We haven't done anything."

"But we will."

"We won't." Helen stood in front of the restaurant and looked up into his face. A paper lantern behind her cast a gold light on the edge of his high cheekbone, on his gla.s.ses so she couldn't see his eyes. "That was sudden," she said.

"That's one of the keys to life here. Sudden and sublime. Sudden and awful.

Everything distilled to its most intense. That's why we're all hooked."

"You don't scare me. Tell me, does the great Sam Darrow always get the girl?"

"He never got the girl. Why would he be here otherwise? The boy who can't talk learns to take pictures. Did you know you have blood on your dress?"

Helen looked down and saw the spatters along the hem that hadn't been visible when the fabric was wet. Her face tightened at the memory. "The ducks... and a dog running by with a body in his mouth."

Darrow bent and wiped at the fabric with a handkerchief but the blood had dried.

"Can you walk in those things?" he said, pointing to her heels.

"Sure."

"I'd like to show you something. It isn't far."

"I don't know... we should be getting back." She didn't feel nearly as bold alone with him as she had in front of the group. She was too lonely and homesick to trust herself being attracted to someone.

"Come on. I don't bite."

They walked down the narrow, crooked streets. Storekeepers had pulled down signs, mostly ones in French, a few in Vietnamese, and were replacing them with ones written in English. Skirting around vendors on the sidewalk, Helen and Darrow occasionally brushed shoulders.

She didn't know if she liked him, but she saw a pa.s.sion for the work and for the country that was missing in the others. "My presence wasn't appreciated to night," she said.

"The boys?" Darrow said. "They're okay."

"They don't want women here."

"Wrong. They think you're a novelty. A fun toy. Wait and see what they act like when they consider you a threat."

She felt his hand at the small of her back as she stepped around some packing crates. He hesitated, then asked what had happened to her brother.

"The letter said he died a hero in a firefight. Sacrificed himself for his buddies. I loved my brother, but that doesn't sound like him."

"That would be enough reason for most to stay away," Darrow said.

"I took care of Michael while my mother worked. After Dad died. When he broke a toy, I'd glue it. Whenever he got in fights with the other boys, I'd defend him." She laughed. "I even gave him advice about the girl he had a crush on in junior high. I told him whenever he needed me, I'd always be there. And, of course, I wasn't. For the most important thing, I was nowhere near."

Helen looked down at the b.l.o.o.d.y marks on her dress, frowning. "How could I bear to live out this small life of mine back home?"

"You came too late. The good old days are all over."

As they left the main thoroughfares, they turned left, then right, then left again. main thoroughfares, they turned left, then right, then left again.

They doubled back and went forward, circled, until it seemed they had gone a very long way but not traveled far at all. Darrow leading her until she was so disoriented that her only compa.s.s was his arm in front of her. A new world, or an old world hidden, only half the stores lit by electricity, and then usually no more than a bare lightbulb swinging high on the ceiling, the rest dimly illuminated by kerosene lamps that flickered and made the rooms look alive. Many of the stores barely larger than closets, a mystery to figure out what they put up for sale in their crowded interiors. One sold paper--newspaper, writing paper, butcher paper. Another store sold twine. Still another, only scissors and knives.

Food vendors crowded in portable stalls. The smells of spices she could not name blended with the sweet incense burning in the stores, all of it cloying the smell of diesel and sewage and the ever-present river.

They came to the moon-shaped entrance of an alley that was flooded across from the rain. It narrowed to the dark throat of a path.

"The streets are known by the guilds on them--noodle street, sail street, cotton street, coffin street. So if you want a driver to bring you here, say you want to go to the meeting place of silk street and lacquered bowl street."

"Why would I want to come here?"

"It's this way," he said, ignoring her.

Helen looked down at the oily, pitch-black water doubtfully as Darrow stepped into it. It covered his ankles.

"They don't get around to fixing the dips and the potholes very often."

"Maybe we should do this another time. Curfew is only an hour away," she said.

Without warning he scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the puddle. Chinese and Vietnamese crowded the wide mouth of the alley, the women giggling and pointing. Helen heard men barking out comments she couldn't understand.

On the other side of the puddle, Darrow kept holding her.

"Put me down now," she said. "This is stupid."

He kept holding her.

"Put me down," she said. He slowly lowered her but kept her tight against his body. When her feet touched the ground, she was still in the cage of his arms.

"If you don't stop this, I'm going to leave."

"How? Now I have a moat holding you back. You'll ruin your lovely shoes."

She sighed. "I'll take off my shoes and carry them as I run through your moat.

Believe me."

"I believe you."

They entered the alley, the buildings now close together, and the lights within the storefronts dim. The darkness and closeness enveloped them; they walked shoulder to shoulder, Darrow holding her hand, and in the velvety pitch of the alley she did not let go. Not a person pa.s.sed them, but there was no feeling of solitude in the night. Instead the pa.s.sageway felt teeming, even crowded; it seemed to her that if she reached out her hand she would touch a body, someone pressing against the wall, holding still and waiting until the two of them pa.s.sed by. For a moment, the image of the Vietnamese man, Linh, came into her mind, how he stood away from the group and went off by himself. Was he standing somewhere close, watching them now, holding his breath?

They walked in silence and came to a two-story, yellow stucco colonial building that leaned to the left as if it were gossiping with its neighbor. The facade wore faded, long ocher streaks from the rains and humidity, the patina like that of the moldering buildings in Venice. The roof and the entrance portico were tiled in a cobalt blue Chinese ceramic, the corners curved upward into points like the upturned corners of a sly mouth.

An unsettling mix of cultures that created a strange beauty. The front door of the building was made of lacquered wood. On it were painted squares depicting the various scenes of Buddha's enlightenment.