We're a Wonderful Wife Ch. 02

As we go through our lives there is sometimes a place or thing or an event will become a central fixture around which our lives are centered. What were you doing or where were you when you heard about 9/11? is one example. But for most people the central fixture is more mundane, more personal, Grandma's house, the cabin by the lake, the county fair, or if you're in Don and Lanh's circle of friends and family in Grant Valley, it is The Pond.

The pond is a lake on Campbell's farm that was instrumental in draining fields and watering cattle, but it provides the golden opportunity for recreation: boating, swimming, skating, fishing, and friendship. The pond became the background for so much of the activities of the two families and helped bind them together. Minnesota calls itself "the land of 10,000 lakes," but there are more than 14,380 lakes and if you ask you will find out that this one is the most important.

As always there is no sex for anyone under 18. Don't worry about Don and Lanh, they're good kids, they can wait.

Chapter 02 - The Pond

Winter

One of the best things about living in Minnesota is the summers; boating, camping, swimming, and all forms of outdoor living give Minnesotans a reward for surviving the long, frigid winters. Of course, winter doesn't bring a halt to outdoor activities, but the complexion of them changes. For one thing, the "Minnesota Salute" (swatting mosquitoes) goes away. Sports take on a different flair, instead of running or jogging, hearty Minnesotans chose cross country skiing or snow shoeing. Fishing remains a big part of the Minnesota lifestyle, but it does take on a flavor all to itself; rods and reels give way to ice augers and tip-ups.

A few weeks into the new year Don invited his tutor to go ice fishing with him out on the pond, but her father Duong forbade it declaring that they were seeing too much of each other. So, on the weekend she was supposed to be ice fishing with Don, Lanh found herself bussing tables at the restaurant. Of course, Don had volunteered to come help at the restaurant but in the end, they decided that it would be best not to antagonize her dad. Lanh spent Saturday afternoon bussing tables, washing dishes, and pretending to be from a country that even her parents did not remember because they emigrated to the US as very young children.

"It's not fair!" pouted Lanh as she brought another load of dirty plates, bowls, cups, and silverware into the kitchen.

"Life is not fair, why should it be any different for you?" asked Lan's older sister Kim-ly who was also working this weekend.

"No! I finally find a reason to stay alive and I'm stuck here... oh shit." Way too late, Lanh realized she said a lot more than she should have said.

"Come here tôm," Kim-ly grabbed Lanh and pulled her in close for a hug.

"I am not a shrimp!" she cried, but Kim-ly had a size advantage over the tiny girl and held her close refusing to set her free.

"Shhh, shhh. I understand," she said as she stroked Lanh's hair knowing that would anger Lanh, and it did, Lanh began to struggle even harder.

"How could you understand? You're tall and you're beautiful, and you can date anyone you want. You probably have all the frats at the university lining up to ask you out."

"Ok, first of all, I'm five foot six, that's not tall anywhere in the world. Second, beauty is a curse, and if you look at the genetics of this family, you're probably in for a double dose yourself. And who wants to date a drunken frat boy?"

"Genetics," Lanh huffed, "Bao told me that má and ba found me in the cat's litter box and felt sorry for me."

"You know that's not true! Silly tôm, we felt sorry for the cat... Oh wait! Come back! I'm sorry!" But it was too late, Lanh dashed from the kitchen, into the family apartment behind the restaurant, and raced up the stairs before Kim-ly could see her cry.

Tam, who was still on semester break, sat at the table in the family's dining room working on a paper for class. She let Lanh rocket past her, but when Kim-ly came by Tam reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. Tam's grip of iron stopped Kim-ly in her tracks. "What did you do to her?" Tam asked without looking up from her paper.

"I didn't do anything; she just got mad and took off."

"What were you teasing her about?" Tam still hadn't looked up from her paper. She brought a cup of coffee to her lips with the other hand and sipped.

"Why do you think I was teasing her?"

"You always tease her. You're like a cat with a wounded mouse." Tam finally looked up at Kim-ly with a glare that could melt glass. "She is not your personal wounded mouse." Tam rose and continued to glare at Kim-ly while tightening her grip. Kim-ly's hand started to go numb from Tam's grip cutting off the circulation. In a low steady voice that started to scare Kim-ly Tam said, "She didn't ask to be born a preemie, she didn't ask to be so sick as a kid she couldn't go to school, she didn't ask to be the only Asian in her entire school when we moved here, and she certainly didn't ask to get her first period at the same time she finds a boy who likes her!"

A door slammed upstairs announcing to them both that Lanh just heard every word that Tam has said.

Kim-ly looked like she was suddenly stabbed, "That's why she said that" she whispered.

"Said what?" hissed Tam, her grip tightening if that was possible, but Kim-ly didn't answer. "What... Did... She... Say?" growled Tam now twisting her sister's wrist.

Cowering in pain and fear Kim-ly said "She said that she finally found a reason to stay alive..." Kim-ly suddenly realized the implications of what Lanh said. "You don't think..."

"You're the one who doesn't think," snarled Tam and she released Kim-ly and headed up the stairs.

Tam found Lanh sitting on her bed, hugging an ancient and well-worn teddy bear, rocking back and forth, waiting for Tam to arrive. The scene broke Tam's heart, she couldn't imagine what was going on through her baby sister's mind, she had never experienced the emotional turmoil that Lanh had to endure. Tam was born healthy and beautiful, the first child of the children of Vietnamese refugees. She was raised in a big city, schooled in a large, diverse Catholic school system where she was not unique not only for her race or her beauty and her wisdom. She was accepted into every peer group, lauded by faculty and students, and sought after by guys and not a few girls. She went on to NorthWestern University where an academic scholarship was waiting for her. With her bachelors under her belt by 17 she transferred to the University of Minnesota and nailed her doctorate in Psychology at the age of 21. She is now a star and rising fast in the academic world aiming for a professorship in the Psychology department.

Lanh was born tiny, fragile, and terrified of the world. In school she was a curiosity, a miniature, fearful, near sighted ugly duckling whose curiosity and social awkwardness led to disdain by her classmates, and her perfect grades led to distrust by her teachers. Being the shortest, skinniest student in the school was one thing, but being the only Asian in her high school made her a twice damned outcast. At birth Mai and Duong worried and prayed for their tiny baby constantly, loving her like no other child, and praying for her in terror that she wouldn't survive. For her first year, Lanh spent more time in the hospital connected to machines and living in an incubator than she did at home. As Lanh finally began to grow, she outgrew many ailments caused by her premature birth and diminutive size. And while she had the mental capacity and in many ways was more intelligent that her fast achieving siblings, she didn't have the physical capability to achieve scholastic goals as fast as her siblings did, so in the end she completed her schooling at the same pace as her average classmates

When Lanh was a child, Tam and her mother Mai came to an unspoken agreement that Tam could function as Lanh's mother all she wanted if Tam didn't hurt Lanh or contradict any of Mai's rules and covenants. For Mai, a mother of six, the co-owner and manager of a family business, and dealing with a rambunctious pair of toddler twins, Tam's help was a godsend. For her part Tam was happy to do so, in her childhood she doted over the preemie Lanh. At first Lanh was a tiny, animated doll that nine-year-old Tam could carry around with ease, carrying her infant sister on her hip like she saw grownup women carry their children, and soon a deep love developed between them that rivaled the love between Tam and her mother Mai.

Gazing on the heartbroken young teen, Tam remembered so much of Tam's childhood, her first fumbling steps, then tiny two-year-old Lanh laughing with the simple joy of being able to walk after months and months of learning. The look of wonder on her tiny face when she received her first pair of glasses, thick, ugly, bottle bottom things, but suddenly she could see a world that existed more than three feet in front of her. Now she could run! Tiny Lanh dashed through the house, her cornsilk fine ebony hair bouncing in waves with every bouncing step, squealing and giggling, those ugly, heavy glasses letting her navigate in safety.

Tam remembered walking home from high school and stopping at the elementary school to escort home her tiny, nearsighted first grade sister, a year older than her classmates and yet so many inches shorter. Like all Nguyen children, Tam worked at the restaurant, but she had a tiny, animated shadow that amused her customers and added to her tips.

How is it possible?

Just yesterday Tam was sitting at the dining room table doing algebra homework while Lanh sat next to her, in a booster chair, trying to write the alphabet with crayons, now her baby was a teenager in love.

How is it possible?

"I hate hormones," moaned Lanh.

Tam sat down next to Lanh, put an arm around the tiny girl and said in a sing-song voice "Hormones are special chemicals your body makes to help it do certain things -- like grow up! Right now, you're loaded with hormones that tell your body that it's time to start changing."

"Well, they're late, and I was doing just fine without hormones," groaned Lanh as she leaned against her sister's side.

"This is what you call fine?"

"Yes, what do YOU call it?"

Tam was silent for a long time, then finally she said, "I know about your stash of sleeping pills." Since moving to Grant Valley Lanh has been stealing and hiding her mother's sleeping pills one by one in the eventuality that she might need to commit a painless suicide. Tam would scream in horror if she ever found out how often Lanh was tempted to eat that entire bottle after a day of non-stop taunting and insults at the hands of her classmates. Now the only thing that stopped her was the thought of seeing Don in school the next day.

Tam felt Lanh go limp in defeat. She hugged her little sister closely. "Now what if that boy comes skedaddling over here on Monday, like he does every Monday, and you had gone and killed yourself because you had to work today."

"It seems like forever since we said goodbye," said Lanh, her eyes closed.

"It may seem like that, but it's only been..." Tam looked at her watch, "eighteen hours."

"He even likes my glasses," said Lanh with a dreamy smile that scared Tam. Tam remembered when she could smile like that. "He says my eyes are beautiful and these glasses are perfect frames for a masterpiece," sighed Lanh.

He's right thought Tam. Her perfect eyebrows that need no plucking or tweezing, her long, almost artificial looking lashes, her almond shaped eyes, a deep rich brown that nearly looks black, all are so beautiful and can say so much. Lanh learned to talk with her eyes long before she ever spoke. It was time to throw some water on this fire, "Honey, he's your first boyfriend...".

"But he GETS me," said Lanh. "We can talk! I even told him about Marissa, and he didn't laugh at me."

"Did you show him Marissa?"

"No! Of course not! She's in my bedroom... I can't let a man in here." Marissa is Lanh's closest confidant, even closer than Tam, she's a small fantail goldfish and the sole occupant of a 5-gallon aquarium that Lanh keeps meticulously clean.

Tam tried not to laugh, "Man? He's younger than you are."

"Only two months younger! He got held back when his mom died." Then surreptitiously she added "I think he's running late, like me."

"I think you may be right, but boys go through puberty a bit later than girls."

"Ssshhhh!" Lanh desperately tried to hush her sister, "Kim-ly is probably listening!"

Tam almost laughed, but she choked back her chuckle. "Did our prince charming sweep you off your feet?"

"I don't know... it's a mutual sweeping I think," smiled Lanh, hugging Tam tighter.

"That's the best kind. Tell you what, hand me those sleeping pills and we'll go see what our mom is up to."

"Really?" Lanh practically leapt at the opportunity. Their mom, Mai, was at the Campbell's farm, Don's dad was teaching her how to make lefse. Lanh's lefse was such a hit with the family at Christmas that Mai was thinking of selling lefse at the restaurant. Lanh went over to Marissa's tank and reached behind and there behind the tank is where she stored the various chemicals, medicines, and foods that she needs to raise one goldfish. From that collection she extracted one container formerly used for fish food and placed it in Tam's open hand.

"I understand, I really do. But no more, ok?" Tam placed the bottle in her purse without looking in it. "If things get bad and you feel the need for something like this, you call me, and I'll come get you, no questions asked, and we'll take off somewhere cool."

"Like Duluth?"

"How about Marquette?" smiled Tam.

"Yeah!" sighed Lanh. When she was young, the Nguyen family went on a vacation on the upper peninsula of Michigan and Lanh fell in love with Lake Superior and every town on its shores. Duluth Minnesota, Superior Wisconsin, Marquette Michigan, they were all synonymous with heaven to the young girl.

As they headed out of town in Tam's beat up old Toyota, Lanh asked her sister what Kim-ly meant when she said, "beauty is a curse." Being a psychologist means that Tam is incapable of answering this question in the 10 minutes it takes to drive out to Campbell's farm, "Beauty is subjective," she started, "some guys think women with big breasts are beautiful, others like skinny butts. To some men our eyes are beautiful, to other's they're not..."

"I know all that, but why did she say it is a curse?"

"Because guys are visually oriented, and many times your looks are all they care about. And many of them like to be seen with a beautiful woman because they think it makes them look good, they think they're making other men jealous, and it has nothing to do with the woman at all."

Lanh shook her head, "I don't understand."

"Hmmm, let's try this. Do you think that Don is attracted to you by your looks?"

"I'm surprised he doesn't run away," huffed Lanh.

"Why is he attracted to you?"

"I don't know, I guess we just connect. We can talk about anything." Just the memory of their conversations made Lanh happy, and she smiled dreamily. A smile that almost caused Tam to start laughing.

"Exactly, now imagine your relationship without that connection," said Tam, "without those conversations."

"Uhhh..." she frowned, "there is no relationship."

"That's the problem many beautiful women, and men, have. That connection isn't there. Their relationships are shallow because people want them only because of the way they look."

Lanh considered Tam the most beautiful women she ever met, and most people would agree with her. "Do you have problems like that?"

"No," answered Tam.

"Why not?"

"I don't date."

Before asking the inevitable "Why not?" a sudden thought popped into Lanh's head. "Pull in here!" Tam wheeled the Toyota into a parking spot in front of Helgeson's Five and Dime, and Lanh jumped out calling "I'll be right back." Helgeson's has everything, from the specialized supplies that caring for Marissa demands, to rare and unusual cooking utensils that every kitchen needs, but rarely uses until company arrives and Grandma's recipe box is opened.

She found what she was looking for quickly and ran to the counter. As usual, Mr. Helgeson was at the ancient cash register, doing an inventory of a shipment he just received. "Miss Nguyen! I didn't expect to see you today, how is Marissa feeling?"

"She's fine, she really likes that new food we're trying."

"Excellent! And young Master Campbell? How is he today?"

Lanh should have been shocked, her relationship with Don isn't public knowledge, but there's no secrets in this county that Mr. Helgeson isn't aware of. "He's ice fishing today," she said as she paid for her purchase.

"Good day for it, not too windy. You be sure to dress warm, you betcha, it's down to zero out there." He placed her purchase in a bag and added a flat, polished stick that looked like a paint stirring stick. "You'll need one of these too," he smiled.

"Thank you, sir!" she called as she ran out the door and leapt into Tam's car. Minutes later they parked in the Campbell's drive behind Duong's car. "Ba is here?" asked Lanh.

"Má probably dropped him off at the legion, it's Saturday," said Tam. Saturday was the day that their father shoots pool at the local American Legion post.

When they got to the front door, Lanh just walked in, she didn't make a pretense of knocking. "I'm home!" she called. Then she turned to Tam, "Take your boots off! I just shampooed the rugs."

"You're home?" came her mother's incredulous cry from the kitchen.

"Can't have the lady of the house stand knocking at her own front door, can we?" said Ralph who was also in the kitchen.

"That was just for Christmas," insisted Mai. Lanh was made the "Lady of the House" at the Campbell farm over the Christmas holidays because she wanted to cheer up Don and his dad Ralph and decorate their home for Christmas.

"She was so good at the job we kept her on, hey there tôm!" said Ralph as he gave his son's diminutive girlfriend a hug. "How ya doin' baby doll?"

"I missed you poppa!"

"How come you get mad at Kim-ly for calling you that?" asked Tam as she sampled some lefse. Tôm is the Vietnamese word for shrimp.

"Because she knows what it means. Mister Ralph thinks it means cute and little, Kim-ly thinks it means stinky sea bug." Then Lanh turned to her mother and formally bowing deeply at the waist she held out the gift she bought with both hands.

Mai turned and was a little shocked to see her youngest daughter, the one who disdains almost all of her ancestral culture, handing her the gift with a very Vietnamese show of respect. She took the bag and thanked her profusely, then opened the gift a little confused. "A lefse roller? We have one right here..." but Lanh grabbed the roller that Mai was using off the kitchen counter where Mai was crafting the lefse.

"This roller stays here, with this house, with this family. Now you have one of your own that you can take home and use if you'd like." Lanh then turned to the sink and began to clean the ancient roller the way that Ralph had taught her. "You can hand it down to Kim-ly if she ever learns to cook."

Tam stifled a guffaw.

"That roller belonged to Don's mother and his grandmother," said Ralph quietly. "Don presented it to her for Christmas."

Mai's perfectly coifed eyebrows shot up. She turned to Lanh and said in Vietnamese "Thank you very much dear, this was extremely thoughtful," and she bowed to her daughter, neither Lanh nor Tam have ever seen Mai Nguyen bowing to one of her children.