Return

Short stories byXuan Chuan

(Baonghean) - Now she has nothing left to lose. She's left with nothing! The three-story house, with all its luxurious amenities, which used to be her dream and aspiration, is now meaningless. Opening the door to her room, the feeling of emptiness and coldness sends shivers down her spine...

During the years of building the Trường Sơn road, in the makeshift sleeping quarters, sometimes the beds were made of reeds, and the nights were aching. She only wished for a bamboo-slat bed and longed for the embrace of a man. One night, waking up with a burning fever, she hugged Lý tightly, clinging to her. Lý cried out in pain, and when she woke up, they hugged each other and wept bitterly. Fortunately, the war ended, and the sisters went their separate ways; some returned to their hometowns, others went to farms. As a Party member, she got a job as a warehouse manager at the district's general store. At that time, that position was the envy of many. A meter of fabric, a car tire, a bar of 72% Soviet soap had to be discussed at a meeting, sometimes even requiring a lottery by the union. Yet, she had hundreds of meters of fabric and thousands of liters of oil in her hands… Every month, she always had at least seventy or eighty liters of oil left over. Besides her salary, she also received gifts and leftover scraps, a little bit of everything. Within a few years, she became wealthy. Living alone far from her hometown, she didn't buy anything extravagant, only gold. In those days, having more than ten taels of gold in hand was something no one dared to dream of. When officials and civil servants didn't even have enough rice to eat, upon hearing that the granary had rice, people would bring mats and lie down on them, waiting for their turn to settle accounts from dusk onwards. Who would even think about gold?

Illustration: Hong Toai

Next to the warehouse was Mrs. Hau's house. On moonlit nights, after eating, she would often close the door and go over to chat, sometimes bringing a piece of black fiberglass for making trousers, sometimes a bar of soap, sometimes a bottle of kerosene as a gift. She said she didn't use all of her ration and wanted to give it to Mrs. Hau. Gradually, they became close, and Mrs. Hau cherished her like a daughter.

Mrs. Hau only had Hien, who hadn't left home after finishing 10th grade. Hien was three years younger than her sister. Whenever they had freshly cooked sticky rice or fish soup, Mrs. Hau would send Hien over to her sister. Sometimes her sister would slip Hien a box of toothpaste, sometimes a bar of lemon soap, sometimes a piece of cloth. The two became close, and Hien would occasionally visit her sister to confide in her. That night, under the bright moonlight, her sister had finished bathing and was only wearing a thin winter/spring shirt, dozing on the bed. Hien pushed the door open; she knew but didn't get up, pretending to be asleep. Hien stood beside the bed, stunned by her strong body. He was about to turn away to let her sleep, but she quickly reached out and pulled Hien back, causing his left foot to fall onto the bed. She pressed Hien's head tightly against her chest, her body burning with intense desire. She tore off her shirt, lost in a throbbing longing, her whole body melting into a light, watery mess. Hien slept soundly like a baby who had just been fed for the first time; she held him close, pressing his face against her warm, rising and falling chest.

And so they became husband and wife. She bought bricks and tiles to build a three-room house to replace their dilapidated one. At 27, weathered by hardship, her body was like barren land suddenly receiving rain, the earth churning and becoming fertile. Her cheeks regained their rosy color, her breasts became full and alluring, and she was delighted by this change. She suddenly worried every evening when her husband came home from work to prepare dinner. He would trudge home, carrying a plow on his shoulder and leading the buffalo, covered in mud. He would only have time to throw the plow onto the straw pile, quickly wash a few buckets of water, hastily eat a few spoonfuls of rice, and then collapse into bed. She pulled him into her arms; the burnt smell from his hair made her heartbroken. She couldn't let this continue; she had to free him, to preserve their family's happiness.

After a month of lobbying and pleading, she secured a place at a local agricultural university for training. On the day he left, she prepared everything she needed: undershirts and underwear made of fine cotton, Chinese khaki pants, a four-pin American Marine watch, American sunglasses… All rare items, she told her husband.

- Just bear with being away from me for a few years, study hard and become successful, then I'll arrange for you to come back here for work, and we'll be together again. Besides, it's not that far; you can come home for a few days during holidays or festivals.

After a year, he came home for a month in the summer. She almost didn't recognize him; he was fairer-skinned, much younger, no longer the Hien of the muddy fields, but a scholar. Even his voice had a different tone, a strange feeling, a mixture of joy and worry, that tormented her. Her woman's intuition told her he was drifting away from her embrace. The following summer, he only stayed home for a week, then made an excuse to go on a field trip. A month later, she took leave and went to the school alone on a Sunday. She introduced herself as Hien's older sister, and his classmates were overjoyed, chatting animatedly.

- That's great! This time, I'll go and meet my cousin Hien's prospective daughter-in-law.

- I also received a letter from her saying she had something urgent to attend to, it's probably about this.

"Oh! That's wonderful, sister! Mr. Hien and Ms. Dao went to Hanoi for a visit yesterday evening, they'll probably be back this afternoon." She tried to hold back her tears, but her voice was choked and trembling as if she were about to burst into tears.

- Oh dear, I'm too busy with work at home. I'll leave some gifts for her, and please tell Hien that she'll be coming home next week for some business. If it's convenient, please ask Ms. Dao to come along too, to introduce herself to the relatives.

- Please stay here; Mr. Hien will surely be back by evening.

"Thank you, ladies. I still have some business in Hanoi. I'll be going there tomorrow morning to catch the train; I can't neglect my work at the office." Saying this, she hurried away, her legs trembling as she left the school gate. She called a taxi back to Hanoi, arriving at eight o'clock. She rented a room in Cua Nam Street and spent the whole night sobbing uncontrollably. That was it. What could she do now? Could all her hard work and careful planning have been in vain, wasted? Or had she made a mistake?

A month later, Hien returned, begging for forgiveness. He told her that Dao knew he was married and had left him. She decided to swallow her pride and pretend everything was fine, thinking, "If he's ashamed, who's to blame?" She gritted her teeth and endured, thinking that in over a year, she would find a way to win him back. She knew Mr. Sinh, the deputy chairman of the district, was a distant relative of Hien. She subtly befriended Sinh's wife, sometimes with a piece of floral fabric, sometimes with a can of oil, and gradually they became close. Several times she came for meals, bringing some cooked food and a bottle of lemon wine, asking to eat with them. Gradually, Sinh treated her like family. Through conversation, she revealed her worries about wanting to get Hien transferred to the district.

- You're worrying too much. When he graduates, I'll take care of that. The Department of Agriculture is short of qualified staff.

- If that's the case, my wife and I will be eternally grateful to you!

- There's no need for thanks, we're family, we should look after each other, don't worry! By the way, is your work over there tough? I haven't been able to visit you lately.

"Come visit me sometime when you're free. Just tell me if you need anything. And besides, boss, don't be so bureaucratic, or my sister and I will criticize you." This playful remark, also a friendly invitation, brought the two closer. From then on, sometimes it was a pair of tires, sometimes a few bottles of lemonade, a few kilograms of Hai Chau candy. Every evening, when Sinh stopped by the warehouse, she would have already packed everything and tied it to his motorbike…

After graduating, Hien returned to the district and everything went smoothly. Within a few years, Hien became a department head, then the director of a forestry farm. Her career soared, and she was the one pulling the strings. She retired. Everything was quiet, and the years passed peacefully. Her two children were grown, and money flowed into the house like water. Project after project, money increased daily. She retired, enjoying her old age. Few people are so fortunate: a prestigious and wealthy husband, healthy children. Her only wish was for her children to excel in their studies, as both relied on their parents' money and neglected their education...

After the collapse of the Soviet Union, some migrant workers lost their jobs, and without any leads, some came to her, asking her to help them get jobs at her husband's office. Unexpectedly, Luyen, an older woman with curly hair, red lips, and a habit of wearing short and long skirts, came to work as a clerk and stole her husband. After Hien hadn't come home for several days, she became suspicious. At midday, she cycled up the hill to the office. The door was slightly ajar. She quietly pushed it open and found the two of them entwined. She returned, heartbroken and devastated. It was over! Hien returned, cautiously opening the door. He saw his wife lying near the floor and softly called out, "Nua! Nua!" Seeing her husband, her blood boiled again; from the depths of her heart, a terrible breakdown occurred. Her husband, her children—the child she had hoped for was now in a rehabilitation center, the second one had failed to graduate and was loafing around all day. It was over! It was truly over! She sprang to her feet, pounding her chest with both hands, and yelled, "Why did you drag yourself back here? Where did all the money and power come from? Do you know? From this old body of mine!" She threw up again.

...The heavy afternoon train rumbled and puffed as it pulled into the station. Among the few people on the platform that day, she was there. Over a billion dong from selling her house and dozens of gold bars, the savings of her entire life, she stuffed into her satchel to return to her hometown. The train left the station, not a soul in sight. She turned her head to look out the window; the bare branches of the banyan tree in the station receded further and further, the sunset turning purple behind the mountains. Then the sky was filled with peaceful stars, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of the countryside! The image of her village, Nưa, appeared flickering, flickering. The train swayed steadily, as if drifting in the vast expanse of sky and earth…/.