Lucrezia Magazine

I met the love of my life in Saigon during the spring of 1970 when I was working as an army nurse in one of the largest military run hospitals in South Vietnam but didn’t know it until the day I lost my best friend.
I was married back then. My husband was a civilian administrator at the Armed Forces Radio and Television station; the demands of his job, the long hours and my schedule allowed us very little free time.

Despite the war and the casualties (both civilian and military, on the U.S. side as well as the ARVN) I loved Vietnam. As a civilian nurse I was not exposed to the daily horrors my counterparts in the MASH units and hospital ships had to endure but since my specialty was in physical rehabilitation I was somewhat exposed to the hardships our soldiers went through. From time to time, there were bombings in Saigon and a couple of the other cities and it was the tragedy of that horror that eventually drew Joseph and I together but I’m getting ahead of myself.
What I remember most about Vietnam were the people. I knew many Americans, both civilian and military, had rather pedestrian attitudes about the Vietnamese but what I saw were a kind, almost gentle people who were wonderful, friendly and with an inner strength that I felt could not be quashed despite centuries of war and conflict.
One of the nurses in my shift was a warm hearted, engaging woman I’ll call Thiu-Thiu. We hit it off right away and in a short amount of time we became fast friends. Thiu-Thiu had what I couldn’t help notice the graceful, feminine beauty most Vietnamese women had coupled with an almost aristocratic bearing hinting at an inner strength that lay just below the surface. I found out from her Vietnamese history was rife with stories of women warriors who would take up arms to defend their homes and villages from foreign invaders. Despite this martial tradition Vietnamese women still valued grace and femininity and didn’t see it as a weakness like most women in the States.
Thiu Thiu took it upon herself to show me all of Saigon, from the shops and restaurants to the proper haggling techniques used at the large, open-air markets where crowds of people would congregate on busy market days.
“Never accept the prices they offer first.” I remember her saying in that lovely, sing song voice despite the cacophony of sounds the first day she took me to the market, a collage of sites and smells as love songs in French, Vietnamese and English blared from overhead speakers. When I saw her arguing loudly with a rather overbearing, fat, Chinese man over some shrimp I became worried the shouts and overt insults would lead to something worse until suddenly, a price was agreed, the veiled insults and threats transformed into cordial words and polite bows.
“You had me worried for a moment,” I told her as we made our way among the stalls and tables while trying to avoid bumping into the clusters of people that seemed to fill every square foot. Despite the heat and humidity I knew I was more comfortable than a group of American women we passed by, their clothes damp with perspiration as they constantly wiped the runnels of sweat mixed with mascara off their faces. Thiu-Thiu had convinced me to wear an Ao-Dai, the traditional dress most Vietnamese women wore, the loose cotton slacks and long sleeved, gracefully cut blouse with it’s mandarin collar along with the large, conical kept me cool and comfortable.
“It’s all part of a very practical belief that nothing easily gained is worth having.” She said in that matter of fact tone while hooking her arm in mine and leading us out of the market square to one of her favorite outdoor cafes.
The café was located on a rather quiet street; the only sounds that of the occasional passing car or motor scooter. We found a table, ordered mimosas and chatted for a while until the subject of my husband’s work and the long hours it demanded came up. I guess she could tell by the tone in my voice and the way I fingered my glass that I wasn’t happy.
“I love Robert, don’t get me wrong.” I found myself saying. “It’s just that we hardly get to see each other. His schedule is so demanding and…”
I remember the look of concern in her eyes as she covered my hand with hers; those tiny yet long graceful fingers warm and reassuring.
She was about to say something until we heard a loud buzzing sound. I saw her body tense and felt her grip tighten, her eyes quickly scanning the street just as group of teenagers joyriding in motor scooters passed by, the loud buzzing of their engines filling the air for a few moments. Her body relaxed and her fingers loosened their grip as she turned her eyes to me and smiled. When I asked her why she was so worried I saw her face darken for a moment, our hands still clasped.
“It’s just a precaution. You’ll have to forgive me.”
I pressed her to let me know and after a few moments she told me of the drive by shootings occasionally practiced by Viet-Cong insurgents.
“They mostly strike at places were foreigners congregate. I felt pretty sure we were safe here but couldn’t help worrying when I heard the motor scooters.”
I couldn’t help notice the almost embarrassed expression on her face, as if admitting that foreigners, especially Americans, were targets an almost humiliating fact she had to acknowledge.
“I guess there are bigger things to worry about than marital problems.” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Nonsense.” She replied. “If there is no peace in the home the rest of the world can’t follow.”
“Is that another wise, Vietnamese saying?”
“Actually, I think it was Eleanor Roosevelt.”
We giggled like a pair of schoolgirls as the waiter came up to takes our orders. When he left Thiu Thiu kidded me about the way I looked at his broad shoulders and the all to ready smile on my face.
“It’s okay to look once in a while,” she said while glancing at his very handsome form and noting how nicely his black slacks fitted his very tight bottom. After a few more giggles we raised our glasses and toasted the genius who invented tight pants.
I spent a lot of my free time with her when I couldn’t be with my husband. We visited restaurants, went shopping and spent endless hours talking about everything under the sun and despite our differences in culture a bond grew between us that eventually solidified into something I could only describe as love.
No, we didn’t become lovers. I knew of women who turned to each other for physical and emotional comfort when they felt neglected by their husbands. I also knew of quiet a few women who didn’t think having an affair with a woman as cheating but to me, I was in a committed relationship and couldn’t bring myself to do it no matter how tempted I became.
With Thiu-Thiu, I did feel a strong attraction and one time, when we were in an exclusive health spa that dated back to the French occupation, we almost became lovers. After enjoying a sauna we decided to use one of the private baths and while I went as far as wearing a bikini Thiu-Thiu surprised me by slipping off her robe and sliding naked into the water.
I had never seen her completely nude before and the sight of her lithe yet curvaceous body, her hi-upturned breasts, large dark nipples, smooth belly and perfectly rounded hips excited and disquieted me all at once. At times, when we were in my apartment or in her home we would hold each other while talking. It wasn’t sexual, just two people who were very comfortable with each other but when she snuggled that beautiful brown body against me, one of those generous nipples pressed against my arm, I instantly stiffened.