Beauty Rising Read Free

countryside, finding the girl that smiled at him; the girl that randomly invited him to leave his soul here. I imagined him kissing the girl goodbye and telling his naked swimming friends about his encounter. I imagined them telling him to stop his BS and excitedly trying to make him come clean with the truth. Then I imagined Newbert taking the bullet in the head. It was so peaceful now. Everything seemed unreal.
    “Where are the rice fields?” I asked the driver. This was not the spot; it was too hilly, and there were no banana trees.
    “What?” asked the driver.
    “Are there some rice fields around here? I need to find some rice fields on the edge of the lake.”
    The driver looked completely perplexed.
    “You want to go down to city; we see rice fields. I know good restaurant too. You hungry? Eat?” he replicated the eating motion with his hands and mouth.
    “No. I need rice fields. Or banana trees. Rice fields or banana trees by the lake.”
    We drove around for another thirty minutes; forested hills spread out in all directions. As we approached what must have been the northern tip of the lake, we pulled off to the side and the driver led me down through a small grove that covered the embankment heading down to the lake. When we reached the water, I looked out and saw a low expanse of land leading off into the horizon, and on the far side stood a large grove of banana trees. My heart pounded, could this be it? There were not any rice fields, but perhaps this land used to have them? It was over forty years ago. I trudged along the edge of the lake. The ground was soft and my shoes quickly began sinking into the mud, but I kept moving. Could this really be the spot? Would there be a large rock jutting out like my dad said? I reached the edge of the banana grove. There was no one around. The driver squatted by the edge of the lake, smoking, about a quarter of a mile away. The trees were full of green banana bunches. I started walking up through the grove looking intently for any rock that could fit the description. The ground was smooth, but damp. My shoes were completely black with mud. I scoured the entire grove over and over. There was no rock. There were no rice fields. But could this still have been the place. After all, it was the only lake in Thai Win and these were the only banana trees we could find around the lake. I went down to the beginning of the grove and sat flat right in the moist dirt. Removing my backpack, I pulled out the Rubbermaid container that held the ashes.
    “Dad. I did the best I could.”
    I looked down at the remains.
    “I know you never thought I would amount to anything. You were always disappointed in me. But look Dad, I’m in Vietnam. I’ve never even crossed into Ohio, and now I’m sitting under a banana tree in Vietnam. Dad, I did it.”
    I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears flowed, like every other night when I was young in my bedroom listening to dad yell at mom.
    “It doesn’t matter Dad. It doesn’t matter. I’m here. I’m here for you.”
    I unsealed the red lid on the two quart container when suddenly a light wind blew ashes all over my jeans.
    “Ahh,” I jumped up wiping my pants with my left hand while balancing the Rubbermaid top over the container in my right.
    “I can’t even dump out ashes. Idiot.”
    I backed up two feet when a banana tree branch pierced through my right hand and knocked the Rubbermaid onto the ground, dumping the ashes all over. I stood frozen, having a hard time believing what I just did, though I wasn’t totally surprised.
    “Sorry, Dad. You know I’ve always been a little clumsy. Sorry. But I made it, Dad. I made it to Vietnam.”

Cremation

    Dad died the morning after he told me his Vietnam story. Mom didn’t react or say much of anything. I went for a walk. I stopped in front of the Methodist church on Main Street and thought about young dad and grandma walking through the arched front doors on a Sunday morning. The