Quiet As They Come. Angie Chau

woman’s expression didn’t soften. She pulled the boy’s head into her belly and said, “I don’t know if you read but there’s a sign.” She surveyed the area as if to determine Huong’s relation to the children at play. There were a handful of white children, one mixed-race child, and a Hispanic child but no Asian kids. “Over there,” she pointed, “there’s a sign that says, ‘No adults allowed unaccompanied by a child.’”

      Huong tried to say that her daughter was in the bathroom. She was still formulating the sentence in English in her head when the woman whipped around and carried the boy to the other side of the playground.

      At her foot, partly covered in sawdust, the coin winked. She couldn’t tell if it was mocking or nice. She remembered the Vietnamese Prime Minister once saying to her, “Your face should grace our country’s five-hundred-dollar bill.” His eyes were fixed below her neck when he’d said it.

      She was in her mid-twenties, still childless though newly married, and because her father was the Prime Minister’s private doctor, the family had been invited to dine with the politician and his wife.

      Huong said, “I’d rather be on a coin.”

      “But why?” he said, finally looking her in the eye. “Your image would be so much larger and clearer on a bill. Don’t deprive the people. No, not a mere coin.”

      “But I’d prefer it. That way I could be loved by all the people of Vietnam, not just the rich, but loved by all.”

      The Prime Minister laughed and brushed her hand with his fingers before reaching for his empty drink. “Clever,” he said with his pointing finger only inches from her nose. “You’ve got a clever one,” he declared across the table and held his glass up as a salute to her father. Her husband, the young professor eyed them with pained curiosity. Her father from across the table put four fingers in the air to show his patient that he was keeping count. The Prime Minister ignored his doctor’s orders. He signaled for another drink. He’d always been a reckless man.

      Huong wasn’t surprised then, when many years after that dinner party he was overthrown. Once American involvement was withdrawn, the country’s economy faltered. A five-hundred-dollar bill eventually became worthless, used as toilet paper by some. Huong thought, not even a fool would use a coin to wipe his ass.

      Huong was pocketing the coin when Michelle returned from the bathroom. “Come on,” she said, “let’s go.”

      “I thought you said I could play.”

      “I’ve changed my mind.”

      “But why?”

      Huong didn’t respond. On the way out, she saw the sign with its official red lettering that said, No adults allowed unaccompanied by a child.

      Michelle kept tugging at her and asking, Why? Why? Why?

      Huong said, “Do you want what happened to your brother to happen to your sister? Just so you can play?”

      Michelle didn’t utter another peep.