Although it was many years ago, I can still remember the feeling of my shirt getting wet from her tears. I was carrying out the wish of one of my friends. I remember it was midafternoon because I had put the task off as long as I could. I explained to the boss why I had come that afternoon. Her attitude changed from a coldhearted businesswoman to a sympathetic person who understood loss. She went to get May for me. When she returned, she took us both back to a little room I had never seen before. May had on a simple Ao Dai. There were none of the usual embroideries of a fancy Ao Dai. It was white. May smiled at me, but I think she knew I had come with bad news. I told her as gently as I could the man she knew as Steve was dead. May’s pretty young face contorted into horror and then grieve. I put my arms around her and held her as she sobbed.
I am sure the cynical among us would say this bar girl, prostitute, had no real feelings for Steve. They were crocodile tears. I knew from listening to Steve there was more between him and May. It felt like love to me. I also knew there was a common saying among the GIs that using a bar girl for sex is just a little better than doing themselves. There was no thought of a bar girl being human. Every sob from May I felt deeply in my body even my soul. I do not know how long May cried. The other bar girls came back to the room some by one’s others in pairs. My command of the Vietnamese language was not that good, but I understood what they said were messages of concern and condolences for May.
Finally, the boss came back and said she would take care of May. Before I could leave, May asked if she could kiss me. It was like a kiss from your mother or sister that was full of emotion but nothing physical. As I was leaving the bar, one GIs asked me what I had spilled on my shoulder. I answered him with one word, “Grief.”
