Milky White Saigon (3/?)
anonymous
July 21 2009, 03:45:14 UTC
“And then here…it’s like none of that happened at all.” Alfred pointed to the girls who were flirting with the men, some of them walking off to private rooms, some of them pouring drinks for their customers. “What are you doing here anyway?” Change the subject; he had to change it somehow. “Why are you wearing that?
“To blend in.” She shrugged almost casually. “They are my people as well. I am Vietnam. There is no such thing as North or South.” Vietnam sat straight, remaining calm in silent strength.
Alfred glared at her, a small smile on his face. “You just don’t fucking give up…do you…?”
“You must tell your boss to stop this war.”
“We are. But he keeps putting more people in and taking less people out.” Alfred had taken off his glasses momentarily and rubs his eyes. “I’m so sick of being here. Sick of elephant grass and blood and corpses…smells…I don’t understand how you can stand it.”
Vietnam then took his glasses and rubbed the lenses clean on her shirt. She put them back on his face and stared directly in his eyes. “I have to be strong. I decided to be resilient and hardheaded to everything. Even back then when you split me in two, and even back then when you first brought troops. Even now. We’re doing just like your very first leader did. We’re keeping faith, keeping strong, no MATTER what happens.”
Alfred stared through clear glass into what he, for that short moment, saw as something like himself. And whether it was the alcohol doing the work or his actual feelings, he wasn’t sure, but he reached over and pulled her roughly into his chest, his jacket swallowing her up completely. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, eyes closed shut. He breathed in pain, fatigue, blood, and rice, and overpowering them all was her will.
Commie, she was a commie, that’s been what he assumed. But he didn’t know anymore. This young girl with soft skin and a hard head. He didn’t know anymore.
“To blend in.” She shrugged almost casually. “They are my people as well. I am Vietnam. There is no such thing as North or South.” Vietnam sat straight, remaining calm in silent strength.
Alfred glared at her, a small smile on his face. “You just don’t fucking give up…do you…?”
“You must tell your boss to stop this war.”
“We are. But he keeps putting more people in and taking less people out.” Alfred had taken off his glasses momentarily and rubs his eyes. “I’m so sick of being here. Sick of elephant grass and blood and corpses…smells…I don’t understand how you can stand it.”
Vietnam then took his glasses and rubbed the lenses clean on her shirt. She put them back on his face and stared directly in his eyes. “I have to be strong. I decided to be resilient and hardheaded to everything. Even back then when you split me in two, and even back then when you first brought troops. Even now. We’re doing just like your very first leader did. We’re keeping faith, keeping strong, no MATTER what happens.”
Alfred stared through clear glass into what he, for that short moment, saw as something like himself. And whether it was the alcohol doing the work or his actual feelings, he wasn’t sure, but he reached over and pulled her roughly into his chest, his jacket swallowing her up completely. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, eyes closed shut. He breathed in pain, fatigue, blood, and rice, and overpowering them all was her will.
Commie, she was a commie, that’s been what he assumed. But he didn’t know anymore. This young girl with soft skin and a hard head. He didn’t know anymore.
He didn’t know anymore.
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