The Beauty of Humanity Movement (82 page)

“So? She’s still a woman,” Ph
ng says, stuffing his hands into his pockets and fiddling with the keys at the end of the chain hooked to his belt loop. His forearms are tanned, and thick veins disappear beneath his shirtsleeves above the elbows.

For a minute, and not for the first time, T
hates his best friend.

“Good morning, Miss Maggie,” T
says brightly. “Please let me introduce one of the finest drivers from the agency.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she says in English.

“Ph
ng doesn’t speak English,” T
takes some pleasure in saying. “It is why he is just the driver and I am the guide.”

“So, are you ready to go?” Miss Maggie asks, switching to Vietnamese.

“Actually, Miss Maggie, I wanted to have a word with you about the current arrangement.”

“Is there a problem?”

“I just don’t think I am the best tour guide for your purposes.”

“Sorry,” she says, shaking her head, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I would like to resign from this assignment.”

“Oh,” Miss Maggie says. “What’s the problem exactly?”

“No problem, Miss,” says T
, desperate to escape without confrontation.

“Well, there obviously is.”

T
stammers and looks to Ph
ng for help.

“Miss,” Ph
ng says, rallying for his friend, “T
has found some of the art he has been exposed to over the past couple of days deeply offensive on a personal level.”

“Oh,” says Miss Maggie. “I’m sorry, T
. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

T
just wants to flee. “I better get back to my regular job,” he says, slinking backward.

“Can you come back at the end of the day?” she asks. “We can chat about it and settle up then, okay?”

T
consents with a slight bow.