Aperture on the East Read online

  Aperture on the East

  A NOVEL

  by

  Meris Lee

  Aperture on the East

  Meris Lee

  Copyright © 2014 by Meris Lee

  Smashwords Edition

  Including Cover Photo and Text

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  [email protected]

  ISBN: 978-1-311-33495-4

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  The roaring train shook violently in the night as it raced along the coast of the South China Sea, running the danger of disengaging from the age-old tracks that stringed countless rice fields, fishing villages, and bustling cities. An antiquated Soviet engine hauled this train, which on a daily basis moved passengers over a thousand miles between the two poles of this linear country. Every now and then, when the train would grind to a stop with a piercing squeal, a weary traveler would walk down the corridor to use the water fountain, plastic sandals slapping against the wooden floor, and then return to his cabin, banging the steel door shut. This was when Ana would suddenly awake from her very short slumber of uneasy dreams, muttering a sigh that sounded almost like profanity.

  She lay on her side with her arm under the square pillow, examining the cabin in the dim light again. There were two sets of bunk beds in this small compartment. Each bed, with its thin mattress, could fit exactly one person. Her children, eleven-year-old Ivan and sixteen-year-old Zoe, occupied the two top bunks. Ana worried that they might roll and fall to their deaths, and so she got up one more time to make sure that neither was lying too close to the edge of the bed.

  When she lay down again, she pulled the fleece blanket over her shoulder, shivering in the heavily air-conditioned cabin. The sweat lingering on her skin from sweltering Saigon made it worse. She had spent the day before visiting the Saigon Zoo with her children, and then sat waiting at the hot and suffocating railroad station for an hour before they all boarded the train. The chill was welcoming at first, but it soon became intolerable.

  Ana was envious of her children who seemed to be sleeping soundly. Ivan even laughed out loud once, perhaps dreaming about the funny scenes of the water puppet performance they saw just two days ago. Ana tried to stay up and keep a vigil because she couldn’t stop imagining a number of tragic events that could happen on this train. However, when the train started moving again, the rocking motion of the old machine combined with her fatigue commanded her to doze off once again without much contest.

  “Good morning. We will arrive in Nha Trang in twenty minutes. Please make sure that you have all your belongings.” The announcement was broadcast in both Vietnamese and English, via a deafening loudspeaker over the cabin door. Ana opened her eyes slightly, and was assaulted by the blinding fluorescent lights that had come on all of a sudden. The train showed no signs of slowing down.

  “We’re here! We’re here!” Ivan hopped down from his bunk, took a wet wipe from his backpack and started to clean up for the morning.

  “Ma, Zoe, we are here!” Ivan gave Ana a tight hug, and then rocked her with both hands. “Hurry, Ma. We need to get off the train.” He was already dressed, hair combed, shoes on, backpack tidied and ready to go.

  Ana rubbed her eyes and yawned. Why had she decided to take the sleeper train, which had provided very little sleep, if any at all? She sat up to organize for the day. She put her hair up in a ponytail, and applied concealer to cover the tattoos on her forearms. She smoothed out the wrinkles on her tunic and capris with a spray, and slipped into a pair of walking shoes. A large portfolio of photographs that she had taken and printed in Saigon sat at the foot of her bunk, next to which a suitcase stood.

  “Did you know that Nha Trang meant the River of Reed in the Cham language?” Ivan said. He was scanning a guidebook.

  Ana smiled and said, “No, I didn’t.”

  “It’s just north of the city. It’s called the River Cai now, meaning the Mother River. Can we go and see it sometime today? The Cham temples on the other side are over a thousand years old. Can we, Ma?” Ivan looked at Ana, hands folded together.

  “Of course,” said Ana.

  The Mother River, how fitting? She had moved Ivan and Zoe to Nha Trang so that she could get another chance at being a mother, a caring and responsible one, the kind that she knew she should have always been, but never had.

  She checked the cabin to make sure that nothing would be left behind. She looked up at Zoe, who was still lying in her bed with the blanket over her head.

  “Zoe, please get up,” said Ana. She reached to uncover Zoe’s head.

  “Don’t touch me!” Zoe said as she sat up. Her black, pixie-styled hair with purple highlights was frizzy and her eyes were blood-shot. Ana backed away. She was thankful that Zoe had agreed to come to Nha Trang at all, and thought that she had better not irritate Zoe any further because Zoe might just disappear from her sight as soon as they got off the train.

  When the train rolled into the station in Nha Trang, Ana inspected Ivan, who was wearing a camouflage shirt and a pair of khakis with matching boots. He was carrying an oversized military backpack, and holding a skateboard in his arms. His soft brown hair was partially covering his eyes and he coped with it by constantly brushing it away with his hand; Ana made a mental note to ask around for a barbershop as soon as they settled down.

  Ana shook her head when Zoe came down from her bunk. Zoe had on smoky eye shadow, a very dark shade of lipstick, and black nail polish. She had three small silver loops in each ear. A heart-shaped silver pendant, formed by two intertwining dragons with a ruby in the middle, dangled at her chest. She wore a short black corset dress with black ankle boots. A black wilted rose tattoo was visible on the back of her neck. She had a large red backpack with a silver dragon embroidered on the front. In her right hand she carried a black guitar case. The backpack and the guitar case were just about the only parts of Zoe’s attire that Ana approved of.

  It was still dark when they got off the train, just past five o’clock in the morning, according to the timepiece Ana saw on the wall. They followed the other passengers, many of them obviously foreigners, to the exit of the station. Instantly, they were bombarded by a long line of waiting taxis.

  “This taxi is available,” said one of the drivers in Russian. Ana’s was surprised to hear her mother tongue spoken by an ordinary Vietnamese taxi driver. He was standing by a green and white sedan holding a rear passenger door open. Ana went toward him. Ivan followed and climbed into the backseat through the open door, but Zoe went for the front passenger seat instead.

  Ana frowned, and then got into the taxi herself. She started talking to the driver in Russian. The driver just shook his head. Ana realized that he couldn’t say anything else in Russian beyond what she had just heard. She directed the driver to take them to the hotel by pointing to a dot on a map.

  When they arrived, a uniformed valet came to assist Ana’s family and unload their belongings.

  “Welcome to Nha Trang, and thanks for choosing to stay with us,” the valet said, also in Russian. He smiled and led them to the front desk to check in.

  The front desk clerk first greeted them in Russian, but then quickly switched to English.

  “Novosibirsk, Russia,” said the clerk, looking at Ana’s passport. “I recognize the names of some
Russian cities now, having looked at so many passports.”

  “Yes,” said Ana, “that’s where we’re from. It’s landlocked, nowhere near the ocean.”

  “You will enjoy your time here then,” said the clerk.

  After check-in Ana told Ivan and Zoe to remove their day bags, and left everything else with the hotel clerk because their room would not be ready until later that afternoon. They were given a city map and some recommendations for food and shopping.

  “We are going to the beach first!” said Ivan. He looked at Ana with eyes widened, cheeks raised in a big smile, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  “Would you like some help crossing the street?” said the clerk.

  “I think we can manage,” said Ana.

  She soon found out that they could hardly manage at all to cross the four-lane Tran Phu Boulevard segregating the hotel from the beach. There was a pedestrian crosswalk, but there were no stop lights. Cars and motorcycles did not slow down unless some brave soul was already in the middle of the road. Ana looked left, then right, then left again, trying to find a gap in the stream of traffic. When that failed, she took a deep breath, held hands with Ivan, took a leap of faith and ran across the street. They cheered when they made it to the other side alive. Ana, still trying to catch her breath, turned around to look at Zoe, who followed suit a minute later.

  By this time the sun was hanging over the horizon as a red disk against a backdrop of orange skies and pink clouds. Ana looked around her. Between Tran Phu Boulevard and the sand there was a wide promenade with very tall palm trees. Many locals were walking or jogging, and others were using the exercise equipment installed on the promenade. There was a group of people practicing tai chi, and another group doing some kind of a folk dance with fans. Ana reached for her cell phone to take pictures, and saw that it was just past six o’clock in the morning. She was amazed to find the beach so active so early in the day. When she finally stepped on the sand, she saw women with gray hair sitting in the water in their street clothes, chatting with one another. Men of the same age group, bare-chested, raced their peers in the open sea.

  Ivan, with an ear-to-ear grin on his face, was running barefoot back and forth at the edge of water. Ana had never seen him as excited as he was right now. Thinking back, Ana realized that she’d rarely seen Ivan smile at all. She said, “Ivan, are you happy that we are here?”

  Before Ivan could answer, Zoe said, “For now. Ask him again in a week.”

  Ana pretended that she didn’t hear it. She was feeling exuberant herself, centered by the expansive ocean and the glorious sunrise beyond, her worries drowned out by the sound of the waves. She was certain that she could turn things around now. But when she observed the couples embracing and walking hand in hand on the beach, she reminisced about her honeymoon in the Black Sea resort town of Anapa, where she and Eduard had also taken such romantic strolls every morning.

  “I wish Eduard were here, too,” said Ivan.

  Ana felt an ache in her chest, and with a sigh, she put the thought of Eduard out of her mind.

  Chapter 2

  Quan Bien Dong had become Ana’s favorite eatery within the first few weeks of her new life in Nha Trang. When she entered its courtyard through the tall wooden gates the first time, she was immediately taken with its architectural details. The courtyard was flanked on either side by corridors where women in peach-colored bà ba shirts prepared street foods to order. The floral carvings of the wooden shutters on the walls of the corridors, along with the terracotta roof tiles, gave an ancient look to the restaurant. Ana loved sitting down at one of the tables in the elegant courtyard and perusing the menu of dishes with exotic ingredients, while the cool breeze from the sea gently stroked her face.

  Presently, instead of being a paying customer, Ana was being interviewed for a waitress position by the owner of Quan Bien Dong, in its main kitchen located at the back of the establishment. Ana could feel the heat coming from the pots of boiling soup and frying oil on the stoves, and she tried very hard not to be distracted by the aroma of lemongrass and coriander.

  “Anastasia Romanova,” said Ana, when asked to repeat her name. “But I go by Ana.”

  “And you waitressed before?” Mr. Tran, the owner, said in English with a moderately heavy Vietnamese accent.

  “I’ve been waitressing all my life, Mr. Tran,” said Ana. She regretted it as soon as she said it. A woman in her late thirties should have accomplished something other than waitressing, she thought.

  Mr. Tran narrowed his eyes. “You want a full-time job, but I am mostly hiring part-time college students.”

  “Mr. Tran, I’ve worked in restaurants that had a lot of tourists, and I know what they’re looking for as soon as they walk in the door. I can handle many tough situations, like if they don’t like their food—”

  Mr. Tran raised an eyebrow, and Ana said, “Which I’m sure doesn’t happen here at all because your food is excellent, and I’ve eaten here so many times since I came to Nha Trang a month ago.”

  Sensing that Mr. Tran was still doubtful, Ana said, “And I can work whenever you need me because I don’t go to school. I don’t have other obligations.” Besides Ivan and Zoe that was, but surely they could take care of themselves for a few hours in the evening.

  “All right,” said Mr. Tran, “I can use one more Russian waitress anyway, with so many Russian tourists coming every day. I get lots of customers from Australia and America, too, and your English sounds okay.”

  Mr. Tran gave Ana a brochure of his restaurant and said, “Quan Bien Dong means East Sea Restaurant. East Sea is what we call the South China Sea in Vietnam, in case anyone wants to know.” Mr. Tran then handed a menu to Ana. “Take this home and study it. You can start tomorrow. Remember, it is a trial, and I can let you go any time.”

  “Oh, thank you thank you so much Mr. Tran. I won’t let you down,” said Ana, almost in tears. She had been looking for a job for just about as long as she had been in Nha Trang, and she was running really low in cash. She had not much left in savings after paying for the expensive move from Russia.

  Mr. Tran went over some details regarding work hours, wages, and other policies, and Ana thanked him again before she exited the kitchen. She was so ecstatic that when she bounded out of the gates of the restaurant, she bumped into the shoulder of a woman walking in.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Ana, instinctively in Russian.

  The petite woman smiled and said something to Ana. Ana could tell that it was Vietnamese but she didn’t understand it. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders at the woman.

  “She said, ‘I’m very sorry for running into you. I hope you’re not hurt,’” said a man in English. He was standing next to the woman, arm in arm.

  “Oh, no, I am sorry,” said Ana, in English this time. “I hope you are not hurt. I mean, I hope she is not hurt.”

  The man smiled at Ana, looking straight into her eyes. He was probably also Vietnamese, tall and athletic, with thick eyebrows and a square jaw. Ana looked away.

  “Welcome, welcome. Is everything okay?” said Mr. Tran. He approached Ana and the couple.

  “Yes it is,” said another tall man, black, who appeared from behind the couple. “Let’s get inside. I’m hungry.” He glanced at Ana, and then tapped on the backs of the couple. The three of them went inside the restaurant.

  Mr. Tran gave Ana a stern stare and said, “I hope this is not going to happen again.”

  Ana apologized profusely and left the restaurant.

  “What was I doing?” said Ana to herself. She waved down a motorcycle taxi, and showed the driver a map with directions to her apartment. She thought about the man who had interpreted for the woman that she bumped into. There was such fieriness in his eyes.

  Ana could hear the heated exchange of shouting in the staircase before she reached her fourth-floor apartment. The distinctive voice of Zoe was layered with a more nasal variety of the locals.

  “I already sai
d I’m sorry, but I need to practice,” said Zoe, holding her electric guitar. “Plus, your TV is always so loud. The whole city is noisy, so what’s the big deal?”

  Meanwhile, their neighbor across the hall, a middle-aged Vietnamese woman with a round face, raged on with her angry monologue.

  Ana stepped in front of Zoe and managed to say a few words in Vietnamese to apologize. She pushed Zoe into their apartment and shut the door. Zoe sat down on the long bench in the living room and promptly resumed playing her guitar.

  Ana stared at the guitar for a moment; the teardrop-shaped Vox Mark VI with a sunburst finish was the only legacy Zoe’s father left them. Ana took a deep breath, walked across the living room to Zoe, removed the guitar’s palm-sized, plug-and-play amplifier, and walked away.

  “What the hell?” said Zoe.

  “You need to respect the people around us. It is dinner time now and everyone’s home, so you need to be quiet,” said Ana. She was consciously trying not to raise her voice.

  “Uh, I’m so bored,” said Zoe. She grabbed the remote control and flipped through the television channels.

  “Ivan, come and get your bánh mì. Zoe, come,” said Ana. She took three rolls of Vietnamese baguette sandwiches out of a plastic bag. She had bought them from a street vender after she got off the motorcycle taxi.

  Ivan came out of his room with his Vietnamese phrasebook and said in his newly attained language, “Thank you. I am hungry. I eat now.” He took a seat at the small kitchen table and bit into a sandwich.

  “Well, good news,” said Ana. “I got a job. Bad news is I won’t be home most nights. I will be working at Quan Bien Dong from four to ten in the evenings, six days a week. I get Mondays off.”

  “What? What are we going to eat?” said Ivan with his mouth full.

  “There are plenty of food vendors on the street just outside our apartment building. You can manage,” said Ana, and sat down at the table to eat as well.