Because everyone said, “Computers are the wave of the new generation,” he completed a computer programming certification. But it yielded no luck. Employers wanted young whiz kids from universities for these positions. After that, Viet went back to the local state college to get a Bachelor of Science in Accounting. He walked chin high with cap and gown fluttering across the auditorium stage. His hope had wings back then. His newly earned accounting degree, along with his law degree and his PhD in philosophy from Vietnam would certainly assure a stable job. But the failed job interviews, one after another, proved him wrong. In the end, it was Huong’s certification from Heald College and her job as an electronics assembler that allowed her to feed the family.

Viet stood at the sink and thought, what’s fair is fair. If she’s “bringing home the bacon,” (a term he had learned in ESL) then he had to help around the house. He soaped a bowl with a chip on its rim. He gently sponged around a plate’s hairline crack. He rinsed a teacup with a missing handle. They were the casualties from his first months of unemployment.

“Dad?” Elle looked up at him with pleading eyes. “This one’s impossible, check it out.” She pushed her textbook in his direction.

She had her mother’s eyes. His friends used to describe them as doe-like, but to Viet it was the luminous underwater quality that made them special. They made you feel like you were swimming. When Huong was utterly focused on you, it could feel like a seductive dream. He missed this most. It had been so long since they were last intimate.

Viet snapped the dishrag over his shoulder. “Let me at it,” he said with a wink.

In the morning, Viet woke to the smell of fresh coffee brewing. He was wiping the lenses of his glasses on the bottom half of his shirt and tripped over Huong in the kitchen. She was on her hands and knees swiping up dust bunnies from the floor with dampened toilet tissue.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“I swear to you, I’m taking those girls to Super Cuts next weekend.” Huong held up a tangle of hair and dust. “You should have seen how much hair I picked up from the carpet. It’s so stubborn, the vacuum won’t suck it up.” She said matter-of-factly, “That’s why I cut mine off.”

Last month, Huong walked through the front door, set her purse down on the counter, the groceries on the kitchen floor, and said, “What do you feel like for dinner?” She acted as if nothing had changed although her head was completely shorn. Viet had been wondering why she cut off her hair but hadn’t asked, fearing it might hurt her feelings.

His wife was stunning with long hair; with her height, and high cheekbones, and those big eyes that were sometimes covered just at the slightest angle by the sheen of raven hair, she was a knock out. Her short hair took a bit of getting used to, but Huong was lucky, she had the features to pull it off. She was still a handsome woman and he still reached for her in the night forgetful in his half-sleep that in this new chapter of their lives she would inevitably turn away.