When Heaven Fell by Carolyn Marsden Read Free Book Online

traffic, beckoning when it was clear and jumping into the passenger seat at the last minute.
    Cuc waved from the bed of the truck.
    Looping her arm through Di Thao’s, Ba Ngoai led her into the house.
    Binh scooted ahead of them, reaching the doorway first. “This is our home,” she said, gesturing toward the big room.
    Di’s eyes darted around as though she expected to see more. Her gaze lingered on the motorcycle parked in the corner, a small pool of oil underneath.
    “Here is the kitchen,” Binh said, pointing toward the side room. The cooking fire flickered, lighting the walls black with wood smoke. A cat lay curled, sleeping near the fire.
    Di squinted. “Is
that
where you cooked the delicious food?”
    “Some of it,” Ba Ngoai answered. “Our relatives brought many dishes.”
    Her eyebrows drawn together, Di studied the ancestral altar with its photographs of the ancestors, the pyramid of tangerines, the bananas and guavas, the wavering flames of the candles. Then she set down her suitcase. “Could you please show me where the bathroom is, Binh?”
    Binh led Di outside and across the yard to the small outbuilding. She swung the door open to reveal a porcelain toilet set into the floor. Ma was proud of it: a real toilet instead of a cement trough.
    As proof of how special the toilet was, Di took a picture, brightening the room with the flash.
    While Binh leaned close to see the tiny toilet in Di’s camera, Di Thao stared at the real toilet. “I think I need a lesson on how to use that.”
    “You put your feet on either side, like this.” Binh lifted her dress and demonstrated. “Then you squat down. Afterward, you dip the ladle in the bucket to wash the toilet.”
    “I don’t remember using this before. When I lived here, we just had a hole in the ground.”
    “Many people have holes, Di. This is a modern toilet.”
    Di laughed. “In America, we have toilets you sit on like a chair.”
    “I’ve seen those in movies. I would love to see the toilets in America.”
    Di laughed.
    Binh leaned close to whisper, “I would love to
use
the toilets in America.”
    Di laughed again. “There’s more interesting things than toilets.”
    “I would love to see those other things too.”
    Di didn’t respond, but looked around, saying, “How do I wash myself?”
    Binh opened the door to a small closet. Inside were a barrel of water and a bucket. “Here’s water to splash over you.”
    Di dipped her hand in the barrel. “It’s
cold,
Binh.”
    “Yes.” Of course it was cold.
    Di shivered. “I guess I’ll wait until morning for a shower.” She looked at the toilet again.
    “I’ll be right outside,” Binh said, shutting the door behind her.
    When Di came out, she said, “And now, if it’s okay, I’d like to go to bed. I feel like I’ve come to the edge of the world.”
    Binh laughed. Di was right. This
was
the edge of the world, not the center. Binh always felt she lived outside the place where real life happened.
    “I’m exhausted,” Di said, passing a hand across her forehead.
    “You look very beautiful anyway.”
    Di reached out and mussed Binh’s hair. “You know how to say nice things to people, don’t you?”
    Binh smoothed her hair and led the way across the yard. After the talk about toilets, she and Di were on intimate terms. Things were going well.
    When she pushed open the door, Ma and Ba Ngoai sat huddled together, whispering. They grew silent when Di entered the house.
    Binh walked across the room. “You’ll sleep right here between me and Ma.” She touched the yellow linoleum floor with her toe.
    Di glanced around as though afraid of ghosts.
    “Don’t worry — you’ll be close to all of us,” Binh reassured her, unrolling Di’s sleeping mat.
    Just then, Ba and Anh Hai came back from returning the truck. Instead of feeding the dogs or organizing the motorcycle repair tools, they sat down next to Ma and Ba Ngoai.
    They were all waiting, Binh realized. Waiting for Di Thao