The next morning Linh rises early. She dresses in her traditionaláo bà ba, the long white tunic and flowing pants. She brushes her long black hair and adjusts her conical hat to cover her eyes. On her left hand, she still wears her gold wedding band. In a small silk coin purse, she carries her husband’s as well as the ring Anh has stoically given her.
Three hours later, she walks home with the amount of money they need for the journey, but the sight of her bare finger, and the realization that Chung’s and Anh’s are now bare too, breaks her heart.
On the morning of their escape, Chung, nervous to draw any attention to him and his family, goes to work as usual and harnesses the village’s half-starved water buffalo to a plow while the women plan their separate departure.
The sisters move quickly after Chung departs. B?o does as his mother instructs, wearing a second pair of clothing underneath his normal cotton shirt and pants. His mother doesn’t protest this time when he takes some food she’s left in the kitchen and puts it on a plate for Bibo.
“See you soon,” he tells the dog as he kisses him by his matted ear and tenderly rubs his spotty brown coat. He thinks they are only going on a trip and will be back in a few short days.
Anh has packed a pot, three lemons, a box of sugar, and some triangles of pressed rice wrapped in leaves into a tightly folded kerchief. Linh carries a thermos of water, some kerosene, and more food as well. They walk slowly down dirt paths and through patches of forest.
“Mama, are we almost there?” he asks after two hours of trekking.
“Yes,” Linh replies. “We are almost there.” But she stretches the truth. They continue to walk for another hour. Just when B?o doesn’t think he can go one step farther, his mother points to a small wooden house.
“It’s just over there,” she indicates.
The house is long and narrow. Mud floor. Corrugated metal walls. A little girl in a torn yellow dress is in the back, drying banana leaves.
Linh tells B?o to go in the back and help the girl. “Make a new friend,” she says.
A man emerges from the house and waves Linh and Anh inside.
Within the dark, dank interior, Linh takes out a can from the things she has packed. She opens it and spills out some coffee. Within the dark grains, two small gold bars are revealed. She takes another can out, and two more sparkling bars emerge.
The man takes them and dusts off the coffee by polishing the bars on his pant leg.
Anh excuses herself and goes outside. She hears the little girl pepper B?o with questions. She looks younger than him. Her hair is long and tangled; her face is smudged a little with dirt.
“My name is Mai,” she says. “Are you here for my father?” she asks. “People come here and bring him gold.”
Anh is silent as Linh tells B?o they are both leaving him and will meet him later after it is dark. “Your father will meet us there too. It is too dangerous for us all to travel together, so we need to arrive there separately.”
She watches as Linh crouches down to kiss him on the head. “That little girl in the back is the daughter of the man who is arranging our special voyage,” she whispers. “Her father is a friend of the captain. She knows the meeting spot where the boat will come.”
He reaches to touch his mother, and the sight of his fingers reaching for Linh’s cheek guts Anh to her core. Her sister is kneeling, her arms stretched out to him. Her black hair is tied back, and the light catches his reflection in her eyes.
“I want to go with you,” he begs. “I don’t want to stay here alone.”
Linh fights back tears. “I know, bé tí, I know.” She struggles to soothe him, to make him feel safe, like she has always done in the past.
She reaches into one of the baskets that she is carrying on her pole, and she hands him a mango.
“Everything will be fine,” she offers, trying to smile through her tears.
Anh turns away. For years, she has believed her sister’s promises, but now she cannot help but feel uncertain. Still, as she listens to Linh’s parting words to her son, she knows they are true.
“B?o, you know your ma always saves the sweetest fruit for you.”
Anh and Linh quietly trudge through the woods, not a word exchanged between them. They know the plan. They have imagined it for weeks. Now each step must fall into place, and they pray for no unforeseen problems that might derail their escape.
The biggest risk is leaving B?o alone with the fisherman and his daughter. Anh knows Linh must surrender to this part of their escape—that her brother-in-law has stressed that they must separate as a family to avoid suspicion.
But it is an oppressive request. Her sister must put her trust a complete stranger and hope he does what they’ve bribed him to do—to bring B?o to the place where their boat will depart.
Anh takes a step closer to her sister, lets the cloth with her few belongings slide from her shoulders. “He will be there waiting for us,” she promises. Her hand reaches to squeeze Linh’s fingers.
For her whole life, it’s been her sister who has reassured her. But now their roles are reversed.
