Don't Cry Over Phở

Chapter 20: A Sense of Belonging

Prepare for a kind of sad chapter :( I try to incorporate a lot of experiences that many young Asian Americans go through (like interpersonal racism) through Allison so I hope that shows :)

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The sound of lawn mowers and dogs barking awoke my senses as I stuffed my face into my pillow trying to muffle out the loud sounds. The sound of lawn mowing was the biggest indication that it was the weekend so while it was annoying to hear, it was a lovely reminder that I had a break from the prison they called school for a few days.

While I wanted to spend this weekend lounging around to catch up on my Kdramas or take fat naps, I knew this weekend was going to be busy. I had homework, studying, preparing for the potluck, and trying not to think about a particular stoic boy's soft smiles. Oh boy, I had better things to think about than that. Get it together Allison!

Speaking of preparing for the potluck, I promised my mom I would be going to the market with her today to buy some more ingredients. I always considered my relationship with my mother to be a bit strained, but ever since that hospital incident, she's been acting a lot more... how should I say it? Somewhat more understanding?

Today at breakfast she asked if I had any plans with friends this weekend!! I gave her a strange look as I ate my bánh bao for breakfast. Maybe some demon possessed her because she didn't even mention homework or grades once the whole time. Yeah something definitely strange was happening here. I shuddered at the thought of her being possessed.

"Liên, you ready to go to the market with me?" my mom asked as she packed up her keys into her purse.

"Uh yeah, whenever you're ready," I said, standing up from my chair after stuffing the last bits of my banh bao into my mouth.

On the car ride there, I took in all of the scenery of my city through the car window. I could tell we were getting closer to the Asian market when more Asian-owned businesses started popping up. I could recognize the neon Open signs and brightly colored store names anywhere.

We pulled up to a large gray, ashy looking building with a green-tiled roof and large letters at the top that read "Saigon Supermarket". For some reason, the parking lot in front of it was vastly empty, the only movement being some occasional plastic bags floating by. Even the usual scattered shopping carts were no where to be found.

"Is it closed today?" my mom frowned, leaning over her steering wheel to get a closer look.

"Aw, I guess it is," I said in disappointment as I pointed out the lack of light in the neon Open sign. If it was turned off, then the market was closed.

"We might have to go to an American one because your potluck is soon right?"

"Yeah, I guess we have no other choice."

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After a few more minutes of driving, we reached another one of our few local grocery stores and I prayed it wasn't closed. Please don't be closed!! Noticing people walking into the market with shopping carts, I was thankful it was open. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Inside, my mom and I grabbed a shopping cart before browsing through some aisles. I believe we were looking for some specific spices, but when we reached the spice aisle, I scanned the shelves and couldn't find the one we were looking for.

Muttering some incoherent words of frustration, my mom took her phone out. "Mẹ sẽ gọi cho bố của bạn (I'm going to call your dad)," she said to me.

As she spoke Vietnamese, I glanced around for a second to see if we were alone. Satisfied that we were the only ones in the aisle, I crouched down to access more spices.

"Chúng ta đang tìm kiếm gia vị gì (What spice are we looking for)?" she announced loudly to my dad over loud speaker.

I cringed a bit at her loud Vietnamese. I didn't even know why I felt this way, but I always felt uncomfortable when my parents spoke a foreign language in public.

Someone passed by behind us with a shopping cart and I was scared they would judge us. I felt goosebumps rise on my neck out of anxiety as I made a point to stand further away from my mom so I wouldn't look like I was associated with her.

I didn't turn around until I heard the wheels of the shopping cart fade away as the person went into a different aisle.

"Ôi là gia vị? được rồi chúng tôi sẽ tìm kiếm nó (Oh that spice? Okay we will look for it)," my mom continued, holding her phone in one hand while looking at the shelves.

She hung up and I whisper yelled to her, "Mom, why do you have to speak Vietnamese in public like this?"

She frowned at me. "It's a free country Liên, I can speak any language I want."

"Yeah, but can't you just speak English?! It makes us look weird!" I blurted out in frustration. Instantly I regretted it as a look of sorrow passed over my mom's face.

"Are you really that ashamed of me Allison?" she asked quietly. Her use of my English name squeezed my heart painfully as I guiltily looked down.

"No.. I just.." I said, my words trailing off as I wasn't sure what to say. Couldn't she just understand that people often teased us for being foreigners? I would do anything to avoid that even if it meant hiding my Vietnamese identity in public. We were already different enough.

She was quiet for the rest of the trip as she put the spices into our shopping cart. I wanted to explain my reasons for my outburst or say at least something, but I couldn't muster up the words. I just stared at her in guilt as we waited in the checkout line. She didn't even look at me once.

"Hi, I can take who's next in line please," called the cashier.

My mom and I headed over with our cart, placing our items on the conveyer belt.

The blonde haired cashier looked up and caught my eye. Wait. Is that Alex Harper?! He seemed to recognize me at the same time as he smiled at me, "Oh, hey Allison!"

He looked rather stunning in his grocery store uniform which was a rare feat for most people as work uniforms were not known to be the most flattering. However, he managed to pull it off somehow. It was probably due to his faint dimples when he smiled and the cute freckles spattered across his nose and cheeks.

"H-hi Alex," I said stupidly. I had no idea he worked at a grocery store, holy shit!

"How are you guys today?" he asked, looking at my mom and I. He flashed one of his pearly-white smiles as he scanned our items.

"Good," I said, not sure what else to say.

"I am good. Can you scan coupon for me please?" my mom asked in her thick Vietnamese accent, holding out a coupon to him. I grimaced a little at her broken English because I knew people often had a hard time understanding her. I stared at Alex to see if he noticed.

He didn't seem to mind though because he said, "Sure!" He gave her a warm smile and scanned the coupon in.

He glanced down at our items before looking back up at me. "So what are these spices for? I've never heard of them."

"Oh, it's for phở. I'm making it for the Asian Student Union Club potluck," I explained with a bashful smile.

"Oh sounds interesting! Maybe I should stop by," he remarked while handing us our grocery bags.

I blushed a little at the thought of having Alex try our pho. "You should."

"I'll see you there then," he grinned, his blue eyes meeting mine.