Archive of Our Own

Tam is seven when Ellen has Colin. Colin has Ellen's round brown-green eyes and Chris's dirty-blond hair. Tam's been called enough names at school to know that this makes Colin better. He doesn't know what he can do to be like Colin, though.

Colin seems to think Tam is cool, likes him the way Ellen and Dad do, even if he is a Charlie McGook. Colin eats Tam's fingers and makes funny noises at him. Tam tries to help Ellen with him. It gets her to see him, and he likes the smile in her eyes when he does something good. She kisses the top of his head and asks, "What would we do without you, huh?"

Tam wonders what the answer is.

*

When he's a few months old, Colin gets a bad fever and starts vomiting. Ellen catches it and Dad packs a bag for Tam and takes him to Uncle John's so he won't be next. Uncle John and Aunt Melinda are maybe Tam's favorite people. Uncle John has shown him pictures of where Tam comes from, and Aunt Melinda makes the best macaroni and cheese. She also tells him stories about her mother, who was called names, too. She hadn't been allowed in places.

Melinda's mom did lots of things to make it better for her and her friends. Tam wishes he had some friends who looked like him. He doesn't know that he—they—would be as brave, but at least there'd be more than one of them. It might make it harder for the kids to shove him in lockers, push his head in the toilet.

Tam still gets sick. Uncle John carries him to the bathroom and cleans him up. Tam isn't sure what's going on except that he hurts and he wants the woman he sometimes remembers. He thinks she's probably a dream, but her hugs are always warm in his mind and her voice telling him she loves him is so, so clear. It's the only time Tam thinks in Vietnamese anymore.

He starts to shake, cold to bones, his stomach, his toes. Someone picks him up and cradles him. Tam doesn't mean to cry, to ask for, "Mę, Mę."

A soft voice says, "Hush," says, "It will all be okay." Tam doesn't believe the voice. It's not the one he wants.

*

When Tam wakes up knowing where he is, he has to pee. He tries to get off the bed, but his legs wobble terribly and he falls on the floor. He hears Dad call, "Tam?" and gets scared maybe this isn't real. He's in his room at Uncle John's. Dad is at home.

Only, Dad comes in the room and picks Tam up, safe and high, where nothing can get to him. He says, "Hey there, little man, hey."

"Don' feel good," Tam tells him.

"Yeah, I know buddy, I'm sorry. Think you can maybe drink a little water for me?"

Tam nods against Dad's shoulder. Dad murmurs, "That's my brave boy."

Dad takes him to the bathroom, then carries him to the kitchen, where Uncle John has already placed a cup of water on the table. Dad sets Tam in a chair, and Tam picks up the cup to take a sip. He takes a few, but it seems hard to hold on, so he puts the cup down. He tells Dad, "I want Mę."

Dad ruffles his hair. "Mę?"

Softly, Uncle John tells him, "It's Vietnamese for mother, mom."

Dad makes a weird sound, like someone has hit him in the chest. Tam's so tired, too tired to worry much. Finally, Dad says, "I know, Tam. I—I wish she was here, too."

The words wake Tam up a bit. Dad never talks about Tam's mother. He knows Ellen is not his mom, they've never pretended otherwise. But there aren't pictures of his mom. He doesn't know if he looks like her, has no idea if she wanted him or not. He thinks the voice he hears sometimes, the hand he half remembers holding is hers, but it could just be a dream, too.

Tam has so many questions, but his head is fuzzy with sleepiness. What comes out is, "Was she pretty?"

Dad looks at Uncle John, who is biting his lip but standing still, somehow seeming very strong. Dad nods slowly. "Kim, your mom, was beautiful. You have her eyes and her mouth and her..."

Tam blinks, intent on staying awake, on hearing as much as he can. A tear rolls down Dad's cheek. Tam's never seen Dad cry. He doesn't want to have made Dad sad. Dad sniffles a little. "Your mom was the bravest and kindest person I've ever known. You're so much like her."

"Did—did she love me?"

Dad swallows loudly. "More than…anything."

"I want her." Tam feels himself crying. "Why—why isn't she here?"

Dad reaches out and pulls Tam into his lap. Tam sobs against Dad's chest for a little. When he's slowing down, Dad says, "She isn't here because of how much she loved you."

Tam doesn't understand, thinks he would prefer to have her here over her loving him so much. He hasn't got the words for that, though, so he doesn't say anything, just fists Dad's shirt. Dad says, "You know I love you too, right, Tam? Ellen loves you and I love you, I promise. You're the best thing your mom ever gave me, and she gave me so much, buddy. So much."

Tam likes the idea that he was a present. He mumbles, "Not as good as Colin. I got Vink eyes."

Dad's arms tighten for a second. "You have handsome, perfect eyes, Tam. Colin isn't better, he's just different. You are both my sons, and I loved your mom as much as I love Ellen. And when kids say words like that to you, you tell me. It just means everything they say is wrong."

Tam doesn't know if his Dad is right, but the way he says it still makes Tam feel a little bit bigger and better. His Dad rubbing his back feels so good. "Really?"

There's a press of lips to the crown of his head. "I know it's hard to see sometimes. But I promise."

Dad has never yet broken one his promises. Tam falls asleep on the edge of the words, clinging tightly.