Here, the smell of fish sauce was welcome. She brought a handful of her hair to her nose and inhaled, but she detected nothing. She’d washed last night. She was clean. But an uncomfortable embarrassment lingered as she remembered the way he’d opened all the windows and the door to air out a smell she didn’t notice.
C? Nga looked up from her pepper shaker. “How are things going?”
Esme shrugged and smiled. “It’s too early to say.”
“He’s being difficult?” C? Nga asked. “Do I need to talk to him? He promised he’d treat you like a fiancée.”
Esme shook her head quickly. “No, he’s been good. We ate together this morning and …” She considered telling C? Nga her son had abandoned her at his house all day yesterday, but she didn’t have the heart.
C? Nga raised her eyebrows. “And … what else?”
“Nothing else.” Esme took the large pepper container from C? Nga and continued filling pepper shakers where C? Nga had left off.
After a while, C? Nga said, “There’s a secret for dealing with my Kh?i.”
“A secret?”
“He doesn’t talk a lot and is really smart, so people think he’s complicated, but in truth, he’s simple. If you want something from him, all you have to do is tell him.”
“Just tell him?” Esme couldn’t keep the skepticism from her voice.
“Yes, just tell him. If he’s being too quiet, tell him you want him to talk to you. If you’re bored at home, tell him you want to go somewhere with him. Never assume he knows what you want. Because he doesn’t. You have to tell him, but once you do, nine times out of ten, he’ll listen. He doesn’t look like it most of the time, but he cares about people. Even you.”
Esme considered the serious expression on the lady’s face. C? Nga believed what she was saying. “I … Yes, C?.”
C? Nga smiled and squeezed Esme’s arm. “Now let me show you around, so you can get to work.”
? ? ?
By the time the busy lunch hour was over, she was fighting tears. She didn’t mind heavy lifting or staying on her feet—she was as strong as a water buffalo—but she’d forgotten that waitressing required talking. Oftentimes, in English. That was another thing she did about as well as a water buffalo. People had given her impatient looks as she forced herself to speak, a customer had yelled at her, another had openly mocked her, and she wanted to lock herself in the bathroom and hide for the rest of the week.
She stacked dirty dishes in the roller bin. Wiped, wiped, wiped the table. Moved on to the next. Tried to empty her mind and focus on the work.
Until she remembered she’d messed up this table’s order. She’d run to the grocery store down the road to get them grapes, only to learn they’d said crepes, which was bánh xèo. What an embarrassing mistake. Who ordered grapes at a nice restaurant like this? She should have used her head. Her eyes watered, and she blinked furiously.
Don’t cry.
Once the last customer left, she’d eat those grapes and laugh about all of this instead.
Dirty dishes in the bin. Wipe, wipe, wipe the table. Move on to—
Crash! She forgot to watch where she was going, and her hip knocked a chair over. With her stinky luck, the last customer’s things had been on it, and now papers were spilled all over the floor.
“Sorry, so sorry,” she said quickly and got down on her hands and knees. But once she was down there, the task seemed overwhelming. Papers were all over the place, under tables and chairs. One sheet had even made it to the other side of the room. It was too much. Her hip throbbed, and her head ached, and she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t breathe—