As the inside of the car grew bright again from the headlights behind, Tommy said, ‘If the damn thing drives the damn truck into the damn house and kills me, who do I complain to – Albert Einstein or the pope?’
Del turned right into the driveway, and the car creaked-clanked-clanged, wobbled-rolled-rocked-heaved into the open, lighted garage. When she braked to a stop, the engine coughed and stalled. The rear axle snapped, and the back of the Jaguar crashed to the garage floor.
Behind them the big door rolled down.
Tommy’s mother climbed out of the car.
When he followed her, he heard the shrill air brakes of the Peterbilt. Judging by the sound, the truck had pulled to the curb and stopped in front of the house.
A slender birdlike Vietnamese woman, about the size of a twelve-year-old girl, with a face as sweet as butterscotch pudding, stood at the interior door between the garage and the house. She was wearing a pink jogging suit and athletic shoes.
Mother Phan spoke to this woman briefly in Vietnamese, and then introduced her as Quy Trang Dai.
Mrs. Dai appeared crestfallen when she faced Tommy. ‘So sorry about mistake. Terrible dumb mistake. Feel like stupid, worthless, ignorant old fool, want to throw myself in pit of river vipers, but have no pit here and no vipers either.’ Her dark eyes welled with tears. ‘Want to throw myself in pit so bad.’
‘Well,’ Del said to Tommy, ‘are you going to kill her?’
‘Maybe not.’
‘Wimp.’
Outside, the Peterbilt was still idling.
Blinking back her tears, her expression toughening, Mrs. Dai turned to Del, looked her up and down, and said suspiciously, ‘Who you?’
‘A total stranger.’
Mrs. Dai raised an eyebrow quizzically at Tommy. ‘Is true?’
‘True,’ Tommy said.
‘Not dating?’ asked Quy Trang Dai.
‘All I know about him is his name,’ Del said. ‘And she doesn’t get that right half the time,’ Tommy assured Mrs. Dai. He glanced at the big garage door, certain that the truck engine outside would suddenly rev … ‘Listen, are we really safe here?’
‘Safe here. Safer in house but Mrs. Dai squinted at Del, as though reluctant to grant admittance to this obvious corrupter of Vietnamese male youth.
To Tommy, Del said, ‘I think I could find some vipers if you’d be willing to dig a pit.’
Mother Phan spoke to Quy Trang Dai in Vietnamese. The hairdresser witch lowered her eyes guiltily and nodded and finally sighed. ‘Okay. You come inside. But I keep clean house. Is dog broke?’
‘He wasn’t broken, but I had him fixed,’ Del said. She winked at Tommy. ‘Couldn’t resist.’
Mrs. Dai led them into the house, through the laundry room, kitchen, and dining room.
Tommy noticed that the heels of her running shoes contained those light-emitting diodes that blinked in sequence from right to left, ostensibly a safety feature for the athletically-minded who took their exercise at night, though the effect was footgear with a Vegas flair.
In the living room, Mrs Dai said, ‘We wait here for dawn. Evil spirit have to go at sunrise, all be fine.’
The living room reflected the history of Vietnam as occupied territory: a mix of simple Chinese and French furniture with two pieces of contemporary American upholstery. On the wall over the sofa was a painting of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In a corner stood a Buddhist shrine; fresh fruit was arranged on the bright red altar, and sticks of incense, one lit, bristled from ceramic holders.
Mrs. Dai sat in an oversize, black Chinoiserie chair with a padded seat upholstered in gold-and-white brocade. The chair was so large that the diminutive pink-clad woman appeared even more childlike than ever; her twinkling shoes didn’t quite reach the floor.
Taking off her plastic rain scarf but not her coat, Mother Phan settled into a Berger-style chair and sat with her purse on her lap.
Tommy and Del perched on the edge of the sofa, and Scootie sat on the floor in front of them, looking curiously from Mother Phan to Mrs. Dai to Mother Phan again.
Outside, the Peterbilt engine still idled.
Tommy could see part of the truck, all of its running lights aglow, through one of the windows that flanked the front door, but he couldn’t see the driver’s cab or the Samaritan-thing.