Viet stood at the sink and stared at the pile of dishes. The girls spread out their homework on the kitchen table. They liked to be near him when they did math so that they could utter just one syllable, “Dad?,” and help was a step away.

Outside, the night sky was crisp and clear. It was an unusual San Francisco evening with the stars outshining the fog and the glare of the city lights. From the kitchen window, Viet looked out at the half moon and beside it he glimpsed Pisces, Huong’s astrological sign. Viet loved the night sky. He liked its ability to calm him and the sense of order it imposed.

From the corner of his eye, he was delighted to see the bottom half of Princess Andromeda. When he craned his neck and stood on tiptoes, he could make out the entirety of the poor Chained Lady.

“Come take a look.” He waved the girls over. One by one, he held each girl up to the window and told them Andromeda’s story. He recounted how the Queen’s vanity caused the Princess to be banished away until in the end, luckily, Perseus saved her.

Elle said, “Maybe that’s why when someone says we’re cute mom always has to say, ‘Well, they’re not too ugly.’”

Michelle added, “I hate that.”

Viet said, “You know your mom thinks you’re pretty. You both look like her. But it’s important to remember the Princess’ story because it’s a lesson in humility. It’s not nice to brag.”

After the stargazing, Viet returned to the dishes. In Vietnam, he had never even washed a plate. Growing up, his father didn’t allow the boys to do women’s work. Once married, Viet and Huong kept a maid. Yet now he had become a dishwashing expert. He used the soft soapy side of the sponge for the ceramic and plastic surfaces. He even knew not to squeeze the liquid soap directly on the sponge but rather to mix it in a bowl with warm water because it went further that way. He let the pans soak to later scrub down with steel wool. Maybe restaurant work was the next job he should apply for.

Viet had been unemployed for eight months. The post office suggested he take a temporary leave after he had a disagreement with a co-worker. There were rumors that people feared he might go “postal.” Soon enough, the temporary leave turned permanent.

He had never been out of work before. Even in their first months in America, he worked a short stint as a gardener on an almost all-Mexican crew. All day he would see mailmen strolling out in the sunshine up and down the hills. In this beautiful new city, it seemed everywhere you looked there was something wonderful to see. From Pacific Heights, you could see views of Alcatraz and Angel Island. From the Presidio you saw the majestic sweep of the Golden Gate Bridge. Even from Chinatown, a person could glimpse the powerful peak of the TransAmerican building. That’s when Viet got the idea to apply for the postal service job. He worked as a mailman in the day and attended night school in the evenings.