Tri pulled Kim aside and said, “I told you guys just chips and dip.”

“I don’t even know what dip is,” she said.

“Sauce from a can,” he sighed.

Often it seemed that her own brother was an alien to her. Although there was only a three-year age difference between them, it was clear that his years in America had changed him. As the baby boy of the family, Tri was sent to America to get a Western education so that he could return with an American degree and be a sure bet for Vietnamese Parliament. Her parents would have never guessed when they sent him away that the American War would end with a Communist victory, that they would never see their youngest son again. However, it was Tri’s U.S. residency that allowed him to sponsor them from the refugee camp. Otherwise, they likely would have ended up in Australia, or Germany, or France, since America was top on everyone’s wish list.

Tri asked, “Who else is coming with all this?” He reached for his wallet. “You guys can’t afford this.”

She said, “It’s okay, you’ve given us enough,” and pushed his money away.

Kim dragged him to the ancestral shrine where framed portraits of their deceased parents sat beside a platter of fruit and some burning incense. “Look,” she said, “I prayed for your team to win.”

Tri said, “It’s kind of you Sis, but you should save your prayers for the big games. This isn’t the Super Bowl. It’s not even the Play-Offs.” He flapped at the collar of his red number sixteen jersey. “It’s hot. I need a beer.”

Just as the game began, Bao and Lam arrived. From the kitchen, Kim watched him shaking hands and greeting her siblings. As soon as he turned, she shrank behind the swinging door and stayed in the kitchen with the women and kids. Sophia hung on Kim’s thigh meowing for food. Kim shushed her and said, “Stop that. You’ll starve in this world if you don’t speak properly.”

The men in the living room were getting rowdier with each beer. When Kim peeked out, Bao caught her and waved her out.

The men progressed from beer to cognac. The women slowly inched into the circle. They passed the few remaining beer cans around. They made an excuse of it, saying, “We don’t want to waste anything.”

The 49ers were ahead. The men jumped out of their seats cheering. On the screen, a man on the red team caught a ball thrown from a great distance. He leapt straight up into the air and with the very tips of his fingers barely grasped the edge of the ball until he cradled it in his arms and protected it against his belly. Afterward, he flung it into the ground. The other team members hugged him and some were so happy they even patted his bottom. He was a big bear of a man and everyone agreed he was the best athlete on the team.