Love Beneath the Napalm

Chapter 9: Envy

123 n i n e E N V Y In the back of the bus bouncing along the Ho Chi Minh trail, Diep fiddled with her cosmetic kit. The mother-of-pearl clasp shot open to reveal vermillion, white, and black, in the dim glow cast by the light above her head.The faint scent of makeup drifted upward and enclosed her in its smell. The actress gazed upon the colors of a warrior, Trieu Au, one of Viet Nam’s most famous female generals, whom she was to play that night. She looked at the colors hopefully, but then her eyes glazed over. Heroines are not made from paint, she reminded herself. Snap, and the clasp closed. The bus swerved to avoid a bomb crater, and Diep knocked against the window and then, recovering, stared out at the shells of the lim and pine trees recently blasted into nothingness by the big American bombers. Dew dripped off the pane and bathed her cheek, and Diep recoiled from its chill. The trees crept eerily toward her in the half-light of the foggy night, like wandering souls begging to be let in, and when the wind howled through 124 Envy the dead branches like paid mourners at a funeral, the girl shivered . She thought with relief and remorse of another battle she had missed. Like Trieu Au, Diep had grown up with the idea that her highest duty was to answer her country’s endless calls to war. But unlike the brave general she had simply looked on while her brothers—all except the youngest, Tran—and even her sisters had marched into the mangrove swamp behind their village and melted into Vietnamese history. How illustrious it was to be a war hero! the girl thought. She flicked open the makeup kit again. But also how dangerous. The odor of cosmetics was less distinct now, as though the heroism had died out of Trieu Au’s war paint. The bus veered around another bomb crater, and Diep’s foot scraped against the golden shield she would don that evening. In 248 A.D., Trieu Au fled to the mountains after killing her wicked sister-in-law and raised one thousand troops to fight the Chinese. Diep thought of her own sister-in-law, or rather ex-sister-in-law, Giang, and scratched angrily at a gash in the vinyl seat back in front of her. Then she grabbed a mirror and held it up to the light. She gazed at herself, and the lines around her mouth slowly relaxed. Her face was still the most exquisite thing she’d ever seen, notwithstanding the snide remarks of the conceited city girl who’d married Tran. “Hey, Diep!” a man called, on the other side of the aisle. Bac folded the newspaper he was reading and wheeled to stare at her for the fifth time that hour. “Nguyen Thi Vang’s going to be there, isn’t she?” Snap. Diep grimaced. The stench of diesel fuel drifted through the floorboards, but it was not that which made her nauseous. Bac repeated his question, and Diep kept her lips sealed and stared out the window again. But then she turned hot with annoyance and glared at him. “I suppose so,” she said gruffly. “What of it?” She fiddled with the lid of the cosmetic case again, which was encrusted with cheap jewels that were the envy of the other Envy 125 girls in the acting troupe. Yet Manager Hung’s gift didn’t give her any enjoyment. Bac unfolded his newspaper and tapped it excitedly. “She’s just been promoted to Song Thanh Field Commander, that’s what!” he exclaimed. He stared at her still, and Diep returned his look coldly. Who was this puny girl anyway? Diep had seen the famous photograph, published the year before, of President Ho Chi Minh pinning the Order of Liberation Medal to Nguyen Thi Vang’s chest. Vang stood at attention, with the flattened nose, protruding jaw, and vacant stare of a macaque. She appeared frightened and pathetic, and if she hadn’t had the supposed luck to shoot down six American airplanes all by herself, no one would ever have noticed her. Yet now she was a heroine! “Hey, they’ve run the picture of her receiving the medal from Uncle Ho again! Wanna see? She’s quite fetching!” Diep angrily shook her...