Support
Around noon, as the guests attending Hanh's husband's memorial service had thinned out, only her eldest uncle and his wife remained. Hanh had just finished tidying up when her third uncle came out to the front porch and called her in for a talk. Hanh dropped the broom she was holding in the corner of the yard and followed him inside. Her eldest uncle, his face flushed, leaned back in his long chair, his voice slurred: "Third uncle, what is it? Speak quickly! I want to go home and take a nap." "If you don't want to hear it, then go home. You drank too much and have been sitting here slurring your words, it's really unpleasant!"...
Short stories by An Vinh
Around noon, as the guests attending her husband's memorial service had thinned out, only her eldest uncle and his wife remained. Hạnh had just finished tidying up when her third uncle came out to the front porch and called her in for a quick talk. Hạnh dropped the broom she was holding in the corner of the yard and followed him inside. Her eldest uncle, his face flushed, leaned back in his long chair, his voice slurred: "Third uncle, what is it? Speak quickly! I want to go home and take a nap." "If you don't want to hear it, then go home. You drank too much and now you're sitting here slurring your words, it's really annoying!" her eldest aunt cleared her throat.
Uncle Three opened his mouth, his voice low and hoarse: "Well, since the whole family is here today, I wanted to talk to Mom and my brothers and sisters about this. My family plans to move here permanently."
Hanh was startled. The eldest uncle sat up straight, his eyes wide as he looked at the third uncle. The aunt was equally surprised. Mrs. Tin, however, remained calm, taking a small sip of tea before gently placing the cup down on the table. The third uncle swallowed hard, awkwardly glancing around at everyone in the house.
"Is your business over there not doing well anymore, uncle?" asked the eldest son.
- Yes. My work is having some problems, and the children's mother has just recovered from a serious illness, so I've decided to go back to my hometown.
"If you're smart, come back to your mother," the eldest daughter-in-law said in a condescending tone. "Well, if things get really tough, then go back to the countryside. If people can make a living there, we can too. So, what are you two planning to do now?"
- Yes…
"For now, just stay here with your mother!" Mrs. Tin interjected.
Hanh looked around. The large house had three rooms; the central room contained the altar and a set of tables and chairs for receiving guests, the room on the right was Mrs. Tin's bedroom, and the room on the left was where the whole family lived. Currently, there was a bed there for Uncle Three and his wife to sleep on. Hanh and her mother had always lived in the small house next door.
***
Late in the afternoon, when Hạnh arrived home, Tân ran out to greet her with a puzzled expression. He whispered in Hạnh's ear, "I have a surprise for you, Mom." Hạnh followed Tân's gaze into the kitchen. On the concrete countertop, there was a new gas stove. Next to the stove was a plastic shelf holding matching green spice jars. The bowls, chopsticks, spoons, and even the stainless steel pots on the stove were all brand new and gleaming. Tân looked up at Hạnh and said, "From now on, Mom, you don't need to cook extra meals for Uncle and Aunt anymore." Hạnh looked towards the corner. Her eyes stopped at the stainless steel stovetop, which had a few specks of rust. The salt shaker, the soy sauce bottle, the oil jar… everything suddenly looked old and messy.
Before long, the scene of one family rushing to eat while another went out to play in the twilight hours lasted for almost a month. Uncle Ba still insisted that Tan ride on his motorbike to school with his two younger siblings. The only difference was that lately, Aunt Ba had been complaining to Uncle Ba about the motorbike constantly needing repairs and gas. She also frequently beat the children for trivial offenses, as children usually do. Then, one Sunday, Hanh had the day off. She was preparing lunch for Tan when she heard Aunt Ba's voice:
- What are you planning to do? Staying like this forever will drive me crazy.
Hanh couldn't hear what Uncle Three was saying, only vaguely catching Aunt Three's voice getting louder and louder.
- That mother and daughter eat differently than we do. When I cook, she just stands there peeking in. I can't keep giving her food, but if I don't give her any... I'll be seen as being stingy with my own food.
Hạnh was stunned. She knew that Auntie Three's meals always had a constantly changing menu, while her and her mother's meals consisted only of an egg or a salty braised fish, and a simple plate of vegetable soup. Sometimes, Tân would ask Auntie Three for a shrimp, or a few pieces of chicken.
From that day on, Auntie Three no longer greeted Hạnh warmly. She passed Hạnh by as if she were invisible. The children of her uncle and aunt were playing quietly upstairs, no longer calling out to Tân as before. Hạnh felt uneasy. For several nights she couldn't sleep. Hạnh missed her mother, her father, and her older sister who had been with her during her orphaned years. She took out her phone and called her sister. The phone rang for a long time before someone answered. "Hạnh?" Hearing her sister's voice, Hạnh choked up and couldn't speak anymore. After a while, encouraged by her sister, Hạnh softly recounted the story of her uncle and aunt's return. The story of the kitchen. The story of Mrs. Tín's silence. The person on the other end of the phone listened silently to Hạnh's story, neither adding nor subtracting a word, only a heavy sigh, before finally speaking: "A widow with children stays. Only a widow without children has to leave."
Hạnh bit her lip. The words "widow" sounded jarring and painful. Her older sister's voice was also choked with emotion: "I'm sorry!"
***
Night. The chirping of crickets outside the window. The ticking of the clock made the whole house feel vast. She used to think that as long as she had this house and her child, there was a place for her to return to. But for almost a month now, every time she stepped out of her bedroom, every time she went down to the kitchen to cook, Hạnh felt like she had to look around cautiously.
Hanh left Tan studying at the wooden table in the outer room, then went to bed, wanting to sleep. But once she lay down, Hanh tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. She sat up, walked to the wardrobe, opened the small drawer, took out her notebook, and mumbled calculations. It was almost time to pay Tan's tuition, medicine, electricity bills... There was a soft knock on the door. Hanh went out; it was her aunt's daughter: "Aunt Hanh, please come upstairs to talk to Grandma." Hanh felt uneasy. For some reason, she didn't want to go up there right now. She looked back at Tan; he was staring at her. His eyes told Hanh that she couldn't escape anything.
Uncle Ba called Uncle and Auntie Eldest over. As he poured water into cups, he said, "Sister Hanh and Mom, you've seen it yourselves. For the past month, both families have been sharing the same kitchen, and it's been incredibly inconvenient. We need to find another solution."
"So what do you plan to do? How about opening another kitchen at the back of the main house?" - Uncle suggested.
- If we build a new house, we'll have to expand the foundation... To be honest, my wife and I can't afford it right now. I've looked into it carefully. Renovating the wood-burning kitchen shed under the cowshed would be less expensive…
The uncle mumbled something, then spoke up:
That's fine too.
- But… it’s not convenient for my house up here to go down there. The place next to the side house, opening another door down there would be the most logical. I’ll help Ms. Hanh with a little extra money to renovate the kitchen.
The eldest uncle nodded, agreeing. The eldest aunt then spoke up:
- Aunt Hanh, check how much you have in your savings and how much Uncle Ba needs to contribute. Renovating that place will probably cost around fifty to seventy million dong.
Hạnh didn't know what to say, she just looked out at the wood-burning kitchen under the old cowshed. Seventy million dong was a small amount for her eldest uncle's family, but for Hạnh, even seven million dong for the ancestral worship ceremony had taken her half a year to save up. She'd borrowed it, but where would she get the money to repay it?
- I know Ms. Hanh is also at a disadvantage. But honestly, I've been thinking about it for days and still can't come up with any other solution.
The atmosphere inside the house gradually became heavy and stifling, like the smoke from a rain-soaked wood-burning stove rising in thick plumes. Hanh bent down to look at the table; beneath the glass were several photos of Tan when he was just a month old and on his first birthday. In the photos, her husband was holding their son in his arms, his face clearly showing the joy of a man who had become a father in his forties. At that time, the plot of land where the house now stands was still a fruit orchard.
She remembered those scorching midday suns, when her husband would still make extra deliveries to earn money to buy bricks. Every afternoon, whether late or early, he would rush home from work to build more rows of bricks to save on labor costs. He said he was trying his best so that when their child grew up, they would have their own room, and Hanh would have a proper, cool kitchen to cook in. Ten years have passed. Those bricks and tiles are still there. Only the people are gone.
Hạnh was about to speak, but when she looked up, her words stopped. Her two uncles were sitting there. Her third uncle's hands were clasped together. Mrs. Tín was also silently drinking tea. Hạnh clenched her fists. What should she do? Just then, Tân stepped out and stood still in the doorway, directly in front of the tea table, his eyes welling up with tears: "I'm not moving anywhere. This is the house Dad built for me."
Then he walked over to Mrs. Tin, taking hold of her thin, wrinkled arm. Mrs. Tin's hand trembled as she gently grasped Tan's hand. She looked at him, then at Hanh. She seemed about to say something, but then let go of Tan's hand, stood up, and walked to the altar where her son's portrait stood smiling. She stood silently for a long time, then took a cloth from the corner of the altar and gently wiped the portrait. Then she looked at the portrait of Tan's grandfather, the man who had helped her build this house. She sighed, trying to straighten her hunched back. Then she turned to look at her children one by one, slowly saying, "As long as I'm alive, no one needs to think about dividing anything."
Her gaze settled on Tan: "As for the annex... his father built it. I won't interfere in that part."
No one said another word. The eldest uncle and his wife took the car keys and went ahead. The third uncle bowed his head and walked slowly behind. Hanh walked to the altar and lit three incense sticks for her husband. Then Hanh went to Tan, placed her hand on his shoulder; the once tiny child now had strong, sturdy shoulders.
Outside, the crisp sound of a motorbike speeding away faded into the distance, leaving only Hanh and her mother leaning against each other, before the altar where incense smoke gently rose…
