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Hannah Rentz
Mrs. Gribble
English 2 Hon
28 April 2018
Narrative Writing
August 18th 1972
A knock on my door shook me awake, scaring me slightly. “Son, it’s time to wake up.” My mom said through the door in vietnamese. I turned, annoyed and sent a quick response to my mother who was standing outside the door. Dread filled my limbs as I moved to stand up, a strand of my brown hair fell into my brown eyes and I shook it away. I sighed and stood up, stretching. “Breakfast is ready.” my father’s voice came from downstairs and I bit back a response as I went to my closet and searched it.
The moving truck was lost somewhere in Oregon, leaving me with what I had in my bookbag. Two pairs of pants, one pair of sweatpants, Three T-shirts, and a pair of jeans. I chose a Black Sabbath T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans.
Moving from Vietnam was one of the hardest decisions my Mom and Dad have had to make, and they did it without me. Yes, the war was getting closer to Hà Tĩnh, and yes, I knew we would have to run or get drafted, but including me in the decision would’ve been better than me going to school one day, then coming home to see my room, and the rest of the house packed up. To say that it left me distraught would be an understatement.
The worst part is that I hate it here, It’s hotter than usual and it never rains, and on top of that, my english is the worst by far. School recently started and even though I am the top of my Jenior class, thanks to my dad, they still have me in lower classes. I feel like it’s stupid. Just because I don’t speak english, doesn’t mean i’m stupid, allow me a chance to prove myself and i’ll give it all I got. Though that doesn’t seem to be the case until I learn the language.
I checked the clock and was amazed at how late it was, 7:38, and the school was a good twenty minute drive away. I rushed down the stair, grabbing my bookbag that was mistakenly unzipped. My books and pencils fell out and I quickly replaced them, not caring for organization. As I finished zipping it, I sat at the table and dropped the navy book bag, my parents greeted me a ‘Ngon buổi sáng’ or a good morning in English from what I have learned. English is such an odd language.
After we said the buddhist version of grace, we ate and my mom dropped me off for school, thought before I closed my door, my mother stopped me. “Please, have a good day Jay.” I nodded and flicked some of my blond hair out of my eyes, my has tried to pressure me to cut my hair in the past, but I’ve always refused.
“You too Má.” I closed the door and started up the walkway, the temperature already steadily rising in the early morning. A polite black haired girl held the door open for me and I walked through.
“Cảm ơn bạn.” Thank you. Only I didn’t realize I said it in Vietnamese. “Sorry,” I tried to remember the word then said thank you. She just snickered and said something in a different language, other than english. She looked over to a girl who did a fake cat call and the duo burst out laughing. After feeling foolish and slightly hating myself for the small mistake, I headed to the cafeteria. ‘Ten minutes down, only 8 hours to go.’
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Now that was a word I knew. I quickened my pace to see what the ‘Chiến đấu’ was about. A auburn haired boy stood across a blond haired boy. The blond had a bloody nose while the auburn had his hands raised defensively, he was trying to not cry, though a black eye paused that mostly. A teacher pushed through the group and got between them. The blond said something to the other boy then walked away. His tone was sad, though reluctant.

My day was already going bad, and that was before one of my Ex-Boyfriends, friends punched me in the face. As soon as I woke up, my parents ignored me. Straight off the bat too, no good morning or anything. Not even breakfast. Some laws were passed for the LGBT community and I thought it was a good time to come out to my parents. This was a bad move entirely, as my parents are strict Christians, they’ve pretty much disowned me, and told me I would burn in hell.
On top of that, my boyfriends dad found out about us and told him to never see me again. He made sure of that last part by giving him a black eye. So his response to that was to tip my tray and call me a ‘Faggot.’ So I called him out, told him that the last month was amazing until he decided to become a @&#$, and now it was just me against him.
A teacher was narrowing in on us and I decided to end it there, wiping my nose, I spoke in a steady voice. “Tell your dad I said ‘Hi.’” The teacher led Jack away and he looked back at me once. Just from that look I knew he would take the blame. My heart dropped and I turned to pick up my bookbag. As the crowd dissipated a boy stood still, hints of confusion evident on his face. He hesitantly came over to me and sat across from me.
“You… Okay?” he seemed unsure of english and a accent was woven into his voice. With a hint of quilt, I realized he was Vietnamese.
“Vâng” Yes. Shock covered his face now, then relief.
“Bạn biết tiếng việt không?” You know vietnamese?
“Đủ để có được bằng.” Enough to get by.
And our conversation went on, then he started to go off about something and his classes. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, but my mind just started to drift. He reminded me of an old Friend.
Seth… how long has it been? A little over a year? I soon realized that he stopped talking.
“I’m sorry, what did you ask?”
“I asked what your name was.’
“Tim. Tim Wallace.”
“I’m Jay.”
With that our first conversation of many ended as first bell ended. I was looking forwards to school now, to see if I had any other classes with this stranger.

August 21st 1972
It’s been three days since I’ve meet Jay, and it’s hard. Everytime I see him, or hear him, I think of Seth. I can’t stop thinking about him and it hurts so much not to have talked about him. Maybe I should tell him.

August 22nd 1972
I’ve been trying to work up the courage to tell him all day, but I haven’t been able to, he seems so happy right now, and I don’t want to worry him. I mean who am I to reveal all my secrets to someone I have just met. It just feels wrong. My parents still haven’t talked to me, and they are making me question myself. Am I the good christian boy who has always listened to my parents, or the boy who fell for another boy so long ago, and who has forgotten how to let go of the past. Who am I really?

My english is getting a lot better and I can talk in complete sentences now and understand others without hesitating… much. It’s pretty useful and I have to thank Tim for that, I still wouldn’t know the difference between somethings if it wasn’t for him. HE’s been acting off. Maybe I’ll ask him what’s wrong, or he’ll just tell me. Either way, i’ll understand.
My mom has been crying alot. She misses home terribly, but I rather stay here. I’m liking this place more and more because of my friends. Ever since i’ve met Tim and the others, i’ve been leaning more away from the Vietnamese culture i’ve been raised in. Was meeting him a good thing or a bad thing?

November 20th 1972
My mom has finally started to accept me. It’s been hard on her, but she does. I can’t thank Jay enough. Maybe i’m the Christian boy, and that gay kid who isn’t afraid to show it. I told Jay about Seth. How me and him were together for over two years, then he was just… Gone. Taken by a heart issue that I didn’t know he had. I regret never saying goodbye to him. We made plans for the next day, and I never said goodbye. Sometimes I wonder to myself, if he knew he was going to die. What would he have done differently. That question is on my mind most nights.

My mom told me to invite Tim over, so I did. Every few months, a local church holds a big bash for all different religions, my mom thought it would be good to meet other Buddhist and get back into it, seeing how for the last few weeks i’ve stopped praying. I can tell she’s worried. Tim told me about Seth, and honestly i’m inspired by him. After such a long relationship with someone to abruptly just end like that, it just amazed my of how strong he was against it.

December 3rd 1972
My parent’s have planned a trip to vietnam, and I’m worried. I don’t know if my old friends will remember me, but Tim’s coming. Maybe everything will go good.

December 18th 1972
We all went to Vietnam together, it was great. Cool, and it had lots of rain, I didn’t realize how much I missed this place till I actually came here. I got into contact with my old friends and we all met up, Tim’s vietnamese has gotten so much better, he contributes to a lot of the conversation and leads them alot.
I found Seth’s brother back while we were in the states, and Seth wrote a letter to Tim, but It was never delivered. When I gave the letter to Tim, he was hesitant to open it, but when he did he went into another room, and I let him be. Later when he came back out he just hugged me.
“Are you okay?” My english was smooth other than my accent.
“For the first time in a while?” he nodded. “Yeah, I am.” I may never know what was in that letter, but I thank Seth for whatever was in it.
The trip to vietnam was needed as I realized if I lost this part of me, I would be like a hollow shell, played by the puppet master that controls everyone else. I don’t want to lose this part of me. And honestly, I love this part of me.

Seth will always be with me as long as I live, but I know I need to let go of him. The letter was the closer I needed. He told me he was sorry for never telling me and he said goodbye. He also told me to not let him hold me back, then asked me to promise him. When I read that I smiled. We were always making promises, and most that others wouldn’t keep, we did. I’ve realized, that over these last few months, I can be both parts of me, and if my dad never forgives me, oh well, that’s to him, not me. After all, I still have Jay and my Mom.

“Thank you Jay”

“Cảm ơn bạn Tim.” Thank you Tim.