Short story: The red marble

Illustration: Vu Thuy

The street is long and sad like the sound of a monochord. The two banyan trees listening to the music are probably a hundred years old. The rain plays the music with a million white fingers.

Sad streets give birth to sad markets. People are like Indian almond leaves. They come and go suddenly. They don't need the wind. They just land in the market for a while and then fly away.

My house is near the market. I love the afternoon smoke. It's all dry Indian almond leaves and sugarcane residue. The smoke is sweet and pungent. Like the calls of poverty but purity. It rises silently with the afternoon mist...

Next to my house is Aunt Mai's house. Everyone confirms that she is the woman who curses the most viciously and melodiously in the area. 52 years have passed, but I still remember some of her curses:

- "I pray that your family gets bitten by a snake while working in the field. Get struck by lightning at home. Your wife gets pregnant and gives birth to a crowbar. I pray that fire never breaks out in your kitchen. Your child can't speak and just bows his head and eats with the dogs...".

Why do the imprints on childhood last so long? Hoa was 8 years old, very pretty, a good student, the daughter of Aunt Mai, in my class. How could a tall, lanky, drunk and tobacco-smoking woman give birth to such a lovely little girl?

I secretly loved her with the love of an 8-year-old boy. That means whether there was a ripe guava or a sweet star fruit, I would save it for her. Sitting and watching her eat deliciously, a thought burned in my mind: Why did I give it all to her? I should have bitten half first to avoid regretting it. But why did she eat so greedily? Not letting her take a bite...

It seemed that Uncle Mai hated Hoa. He often beat her. He only loved Hoa's younger brother Son. The boy had terrible asthma. Every time he had an attack, he would wheeze, roll around, and convulse like he was having an epileptic seizure. Uncle Mai was collecting duckweed to make medicine to cure asthma while curing her husband, a geologist, who had gone to hell and never came home. I heard Uncle Nam, who swept the market, say that Hoa was not this husband's child, Uncle Mai could go and raise livestock. I had only heard about raising potatoes and cassava. How could he raise humans?

That day in class, Hoa cried the whole time, her face was swollen, with five finger marks clearly visible. Teacher Hien asked her and then cried. Hoa hugged Teacher Hien and sobbed: - Teacher. It hurts so much...

A flame of hatred burned fiercely inside me. I would not let Hoa be tortured like that. I would protect her like a hero in a fairy tale. That night, I took human excrement wrapped in bricks and stones and threw it at Uncle Mai’s roof. The next morning, the whole neighborhood had to listen to an unforgettable and terrifying song. Of course, the song was full of the flavor of my creation.

Met Hoa on the way to school, she said: - Don't do that again. I was just beaten up unfairly. And it stinks. No matter how much you wash it, it won't come off...

I was surprised to hear that Uncle Mai had sent Hoa to a mental hospital. I skipped lunch. I couldn't stand the hunger in the afternoon. I ate again. Even if I was beaten to death, I still wouldn't believe that Hoa was mentally ill. She was such a good student. And she was pretty too. How could someone with a mental illness be so pretty?

Then that fall, I was cutting grass for the fish behind the house, suddenly Hoa jumped out from the bushes, grabbed my hand and burst into tears:

- Help me! I'm going to die in there! I just escaped! Mom's hunting me! I'm not crazy!

Hoa was very thin. Her shirt was torn. There were red marks on her wrists like the marks of a rope. Her mouth was still bleeding...

I looked up at the sky, looked around, there was only the bewildered sesame plants, a few skinny banana trees, and the wind that came from somewhere made me shiver, even though I was sweating. Trembling, I gave it the raw potato I had just picked, along with three marbles of green, red, and yellow, my most precious possessions. Hoa held it, bewildered, still crying and pleading:

- Save me. I'm going to die...

Suddenly a kick made me fall backwards. The next slap made Hoa's mouth spit out bright red blood. Uncle Mai dragged her away. Hoa cried and begged. The potato fell to the ground. Two marbles shattered under the shoe of the man who was the doctor who came to take Hoa back to the camp. Tears blurred my vision. I could only see the blood-red marble rolling around, trying to catch up with Hoa's worn-out sandals but couldn't. Hoa turned back to look at me one last time. Why were her eyes like two red marbles?

Uncle Mai kicked me in the stomach. Since then, my chest has been aching. Many nights I dream of Hoa standing at the head of my bed, vomiting up lots of red marbles and blood.

A few months later, news came that Hoa had died of illness in a mental hospital. The news made my neighborhood buzz for half a day. It was wartime. Enemy planes were constantly bombing. So many people died. I got used to being near death. What was it like for a crazy child to die of illness...?

But I don't believe that. I often sit by the river for hours. I lift my hand up and look at the water. My hand is so small. The river is wide and cold. Is my reflection in the water cold? So many questions like floating water hyacinths...

It has been 52 years since that Autumn. I have never forgotten. I read books. When I was a little older, I picked up a pen to write. Under the pages, there were often Hoa’s blood-red eyes and pleading voice. The red marble became an eye, looking at me painfully.

Many nights I dreamed of Hoa coming back. With white wings like an angel. So happy. Yes, fly away my friend. There will be a fairy tale world for you. Fly away safely...

This afternoon it’s the beginning of Autumn again. I went back to that village. So much has changed. I still see the same red marble from years ago rolling down the slope. I hurriedly chased after it. Oh my. That marble has turned into the sun.

My friend. I owe you so much, please forgive me... It seems like Autumn smiled softly. Then the red sun marble rolled to a far away place...