Childhood friend

(Baonghean) - My grandmother gave birth to O Thuy when she was 45 years old. When my father - the eldest son of the family got married, my aunt was still learning to walk. O became my first and closest friend in my distant childhood. When I started to become conscious, the relationship between me and O began to have certain "cracks" that all originated from my selfishness.

Illustration: An Vinh

My father was a sailor on a ship. Back then, a sailor on a ship was a label that guaranteed wealth and comfort. People always praised my mother - a village teacher - for being lucky enough to marry a sailor on a ship. But in fact, when I grew up, I realized that while other people always had their husbands by their side, my mother was always lonely waiting for her husband on his wandering trips. Even when I was born, my father was not home.

My family lived with my grandmother and my aunts and uncles - who were not married (my grandfather passed away when Thuy was 2 years old). It was said that the day my mother and the newborn baby, me, were brought home from the district hospital, my aunt was very happy. She kept asking to carry me into the house but no one let her. So she went to the corner of the yard and cried alone. The fact that I was present in the family made her lose her "number 1 position", but she never felt sad or resentful about it. She considered me a "treasure" of the family and of herself...

One by one, the other aunts and uncles went on business trips and then moved out. The only remaining part of the house was my grandmother, my mother, me and aunt Thuy. O was always with me like a shadow. O always carried me on her back when I was fussy and refused to go. O took the toys my father sent home to comfort me when I was angry. O tried to catch cicadas and mantises in the leaves in front of the house to make me happy. The familiar sound of my aunt cuddling me "oh oh..." always made me feel warm, even though sometimes, I also felt sad because she couldn't say anything more than that sound.

Growing up, I felt that my aunt was “different”. She couldn’t speak, her neck was very short, her nose was small and flat. When I started to interact with the children around the neighborhood, she would stand alone and watch. Sometimes, when there was no one to play house with or ride a horse, we would call her. She was older than us, but we always bullied her. The children often called her “dumb Thuy” or “silly Thuy”… And I changed to calling her “o Thuy”, sometimes calling her “silly Thuy”. Only when my grandmother heard and told me: “You’re guilty of saying that” did I stop calling her “silly Thuy”. I often spread out my long hand to compare with her short hand, often ruffled her thick, hair and laughed and mocked her. Every time I went a little far, I often said my legs were tired and asked her to carry me. She carried me to the village temple to watch festivals, she carried me to watch weddings, she carried me to the fields to watch people cheering and catching grasshoppers... I sat on her broad back, swaying.

When I was old enough to go to school, O was very sad. I also had many friends so I rarely paid attention to O anymore. There was a time when I got angry when I saw O waiting for me outside the school gate and was teased by my friends. As I grew older, the distance between O and I grew even more, even though we still lived under the same roof... That was the time when my mother tried to have another baby but it seemed difficult. One time, my mother was 4 months pregnant and fell off her bike on the way home from school. That day, when I came home from school, I saw my grandmother and O sitting on my mother's bed. My mother was crying, and O was patting her shoulder as if to comfort her. A selfish feeling crept up on me. I rushed to my mother's bed, pushed O away and sat down next to her. My action at that time was extremely ugly, but maybe because adults didn't have the mind to pay attention, I didn't know it was wrong. Later, I saw my mother had a stomachache so I quickly went to the garden to pick some mugwort leaves and unfortunately I got cut on a piece of broken glass. Blood gushed out. I cried loudly and Aunt Thuy ran out. She carried me into the house and tried to bandage my leg.

That afternoon, my mother had to be hospitalized. My younger brother couldn't take care of her. Grandma went to the hospital to take care of my mother, leaving only me and my aunt at home. My leg hurt. So my aunt had to carry me to school again... Those two days, I sat on my aunt's back, even though I was as tall as her. Being carried by my aunt, I didn't know why I felt uncomfortable appearing with my aunt in the schoolyard, when all my friends' eyes were on us. Leaving my aunt's back, I signaled for her to hurry home... She just looked at me, her eyes filled with sadness and resignation, then quickly ran out the gate...

I would have been a perfect young lady in the eyes of my friends in middle school if it weren't for the "flaw" of having a "dumb" and "stupid" person like my aunt in my house. Once, a close classmate who lived in the next village told me: "Your house is really nice, everything is beautiful, but we don't like to come because your aunt is at home." So instead of defending my aunt, I secretly blamed her. How much better it would have been if she didn't exist. How much better it would have been if my parents didn't raise her... Then, that day, when I came home from school, I caught my aunt trying on the dress my dad bought for me from the closet and standing in front of the mirror admiring it. A wave of anger rose in my head. I rushed at her, yanked the dress off her with all my strength, almost scratching her and shouting: "I hate you so much, I hate you so much..."

My aunt mumbled, then quietly went out. At that time, my mother had a younger brother. O ran to her room and sat crying. I ran after her, dragged her out and slammed the door: "O, don't stay here anymore, okay?" My mother didn't understand what was going on, but when she saw my younger brother startle and cry while sleeping, she turned to scold me. For the first time, I cried so hard that I couldn't be comforted. For the first time, my mother also grabbed a broom handle and hit me straight on the butt. At this time, the rash pride of a 14-year-old child drove my mind crazy. I ran straight to the field, through the paths full of weeds that I was usually very afraid of snakes and centipedes, to the riverbank. I had to die, to make my grandmother and my mother, and aunt Thuy, suffer and regret. I looked at the river flowing before my eyes, at the swaying water hyacinths, at the dancing sunlight creating shimmering golden scales on the river's surface. I sat down under a casuarina tree… Maybe because my mind was too exhausted at that time, maybe because the steam and wind blowing up were too cool, maybe because the peace suddenly came to me, and under the casuarina tree that afternoon, I forgot all my anger and resentment. I leaned against it and dozed off…

Only when my aunt Thuy's startled voice called out to me echoed throughout the fields, did I wake up. I saw her small figure scurrying across the undulating fields. I fell silent, pressing closer to the tree... After a while of searching in vain, my aunt was stunned when she saw me. She ran over, her steps short and pitiful, her hand waving awkwardly as she held my hat and sandals for me, and looked at me with eyes full of remorse. The midday sun seemed to burst. I didn't say a word to her, nor did I put on my hat or sandals, and trudged back... My aunt hurried behind, occasionally calling out to me, reminding me to be careful...

When I was in high school, my father stopped taking the train and decided to open a shop in the city. So my family moved to the city, leaving only my grandmother and aunt in the countryside. Far from home, I missed my grandmother and aunt, but then the bustling life with my friends in the city also took me away. Every time I returned to my hometown, I saw my aunt getting sadder and sadder. When I failed the university entrance exam, my parents sent me back to the countryside hoping I would be relieved. That day, I was tired and got car sick. When I got to the end of the alley, my aunt saw me and ran out and, as a natural thing in childhood, she leaned down as if she wanted to carry me into the house. I laughed: "Oh, I'm twice as tall as you are." My aunt was shy and stammered as if she wanted to explain: "But I see you're tired..."

The following year, I passed the university entrance exam in Hanoi. When I was in my third year, my family informed me that my grandmother was seriously ill. When I went to visit her, I found out that she had a liver tumor. The liver tumor was on the body of a patient with congenital Down syndrome. My grandmother did not have much time left to live. I asked for a week off from school to take care of her. Then my grandmother passed away…

She lay there, her body emaciated. I couldn't cry. I remembered all the old memories. I remembered the road we walked, I remembered her heavy, thick hair. I remembered her bewildered, pitiful face. I remembered her patient silence. I remembered the pain that tore at my mother's body.

Oh, oh… I kept calling out like an unconscious person. I longed to hear the children pointing and saying: Hey, Oanh, that silly Thuy’s niece. But now, where is my silly girl…???

TV (recording)