The Zenith (89 page)

“Exactly so,” Vu says. “The two kids are only twenty months apart.”

“The girl has lived in the countryside since she was young?”

“Yes, since she was two, to be accurate. Now she is almost fourteen. If she is not brought back soon to Hanoi, she will surely become a peasant and so she will live out her whole life as a gardener or a laborer.”

“I understand,” says Tran Phu, nodding. “A woman’s life is quite short; especially those from the countryside.”

“I know that this is an extremely difficult situation,” Vu goes on. “I am reluctant to ask even those I have been close to for many years for assistance in the matter. But now my intuition tells me to ask the two of you for help.”

Smiling broadly, Tran Phu says, “The sixth sense always provides the wisest compass. You are right to ask us. Because we sit with our butts on the grass. Only those who have dirt on their butts would dare to get involved in such a thing.”

Vu is puzzled. What does Tran Phu mean by “dirt on their butts”?

Seeing this, Tran Phu explains: “There are two kinds of people with muddy butts. One kind are farmers or dirt-poor people. They would have a hard time helping you even if they wanted to, because they lack ability—
intellectual as well as financial. The other kind are those who voluntarily live outside the circumference of power. They choose to live like that because they are able to see the failings of those who govern. Moreover, they equip themselves only with minimal financial support—enough to sustain their survival with a little extra to cover others when needed. Thus, they are relatively free.”

“Yes, now I understand. However…”

“However, you are still hesitant because doing this would really be a crime for those who are still living in your world. We understand that very clearly. When living in the world of power, the hierarchy of position rules over everything. The more power you have, the more you want, and the more you belong to it. But we—we are like those who stand at the sides of the machine. Even though my friend is the director of a publishing company, his position is like a piece of stale bread compared with the other cushy jobs. A stale piece of bread with no butter or jam spread upon it; one munches on it only when one is very, very hungry. Nobody wants to live on it forever. Especially when age starts to slide toward the end and we need to protect our upper and lower teeth.”

Stopping, Le Phuong turns to ask his friend, “Am I right or not, Mr. Director?”

“Correct one hundred percent!”

Both burst into deep laughter that leads to coughing.

“They seem oddly very happy,” Vu thinks to himself. “I wonder, are they serious or are they joking?” He asks after taking some sips of beer, “Will you be able to endure threats or interference from this machine or not?”

“I may joke and laugh but my mind has covered all the implications of what you are suggesting,” Tran Phu replies. “I know that you worry a lot. In addition, all your life you have used the correct terminology, the serious language of politicians and administrators. It is understandable that you are a bit apprehensive when dealing with a couple of unsettled guys like us. Therefore, I will explain everything carefully to put you at ease.”

For the first time since they had met, Vu sees that Tran Phu is serious. “I have a sister who has married a medical doctor—she brings the food here for me,” Tran Phu begins, going on: “The couple is childless. For a long time they have wanted to adopt. Everyone, especially me, has discouraged them. Adopting a child is a dangerous venture, because most kids given away or sold have an abnormal history, or are full of elements not beneficial to their psychological and physical development. However, we know also that taking
care of an abandoned child brings auspicious fortune. If this is possible with ordinary adoptees, why not more so with the kin of a distinguished person? Don’t worry. I have not asked my sister but I am sure there will not be any problem. We shall announce that we have found a girl for her to adopt; and it is you who has brought her to us, right here, in this hospital. Whatever the truth, I will say it as it is, in the context of having known you since the northern front. Our knowledge has limits, not an inch more. A girl of thirteen with no prior convictions; never cheated or killed anyone. If concerns are sought, it is hard to find any basis.”

“Thank you,” Vu replies, both anxious and moved. However, he still doesn’t completely trust what Tran Phu is saying. It is too good to be true…

“Let’s pretend,” he says, “that…that the entire truth could be openly told…”

“It cannot…And if someone dares say anything, I will declare him a traitor, who accuses and defames the highest leader,” Tran Phu firmly replies. “For years, the Party and the government have always used propaganda to teach the people that our leader is the Father of the People, the one who always fought for independence and the nation’s future, and therefore who has no personal happiness. I will accurately quote one hundred percent of all the teachings of the Party’s Central Indoctrination Office. I will repeat exactly all the things they have asked me to memorize all these years. I will throw in their face exactly what they have vomited out systematically.”

“Splendid!” says Le Phuong. “There is no better way than to pick up a stone lying in front of the house of Mr. Tu to throw at the guava trees of Mr. Tu; it’s like taking the cane from the canton chief to hit the head of the canton chief…This type of counterattack, of turning the tables on the big shots, has been used for thousands of years. Now they explain it in a more modern way: the action of a boomerang.”

Vu remains worried. After a few moments, he says, “I don’t know, perhaps this is too much trouble for the two of you; I’m still a little uncomfortable with the plan. If you agree, I could certainly ask my secretary to bring money and food, monthly, as a contribution to the family.”

“We don’t have need of your food ration,” Tran Phu replies. “In reality, these ration cards don’t provide enough to feed a cat.” Lowering his voice, he goes on: “We are not as well off as the people were in old Hanoi, but now we know how to tighten our belts. We cannot trust any directions given to
us by those who once sat on sidewalks pouring cash out of cans to count what the passersby had contributed and then, the next day, thanks to the generosity of the revolution, sit in the finance minister’s chair. No, we are not that stupid. Our money cannot be deposited in government banks, nor can it be declared to these officials who once were beggars. We have to find ways to transform it…as if we might bury it at the foot of an orange tree. It is that simple. Now, are you comfortable or not?”

“Yes,” Vu replies, though his face is hot as if someone had just slapped it. This is the first time he has heard such words. Unfortunately, they are true.

At that moment, a loud clang sounds in the yard. Looking out, they can see a large, perplexed fellow forcefully hitting the steel sheet. The three stand up.

“It’s lunchtime,” Vu says. “Good-bye to the two of you. I have to go back to my room. Thank you for all you have said.”

“Oh, Older Brother, don’t stand on ceremony,” Tran Phu replies. “Everything is within reach. Now I have to see a friend off to the city center. Have a good lunch. Please make preparations for the young girl. Whatever can be done, we will do it; it doesn’t have to be perfect. What’s left, my sister will take care of. Next week we can pick her up.”

The two men walk arm in arm to the doors of the hospital. Vu returns to the patient section, his step light and bouncy as if walking on clouds, murmuring to himself, “Too good to be true.”

At the top of the stairs, the duty nurse comes up to him, smiling happily. “Please come and eat your lunch while it’s hot. I put it on top of the cabinet.”

“Thank you very much. I will be there soon.”

She quickly walks away but, suddenly remembering something, hurriedly turns back to say, “You got some mail. I put it in the drawer so that no one else could try to open it.”

“Well, thank you. You may be young but you are very careful.”

“You are kind. I have never been called ‘careful.’ At home my mother called me ‘the crow with its insides out.’ But in the village, my mail was often opened, therefore…”

“I appreciate it,” says Vu warmly. He hurries to his room, curious as to who might have sent him a letter. “Could it be Sau?” he thinks to himself. “Sau’s letters come in the form of some scrawled lines on a page torn from a notebook and never put in an envelope, so whoever delivers the letter can read it freely. Most often these notes are sent when he needs to have an urgent meeting. He knows I am in the hospital and can’t go out for meetings,
so it can’t be him. Then who? Could it be Van? Perhaps she desires that we make one final attempt at reconciliation?” Vu goes to his room and pulls the envelope out of the drawer. Tearing it open, he sees that the letter is written on the kind of ruled paper that students use.

“A letter from the young boy. Thus, he knows how to write. The first letter in his life.”

He holds the letter, thinking back in time to when the boy had started to walk and begun to talk and to feed himself. All this seems like yesterday, but now here he is composing letters like an adult.

My dear father:

I am sending you this letter, knowing that you are in the hospital and there is no way to leave this place to come visit you. From the school to the hamlet is more than forty kilometers but there is no bus, only a horse cart. Father, please forgive me that I am not able to comfort you while you are sick. I can only pray to heaven for your speedy recovery and return to your regular activities. Here, we study well. Once in a while Vinh stays home because he has a tummyache, but I take notes for him. Last week, Mother Van came and visited us. She was very strange. I do not know what happened in Hanoi, but Mother Van stared at me and suddenly said: “Because of you our family is destroyed.”

Dear Father, it is very painful to think that I am the cause of this. I only need to know that I am your own son, which is in itself happiness. I do not want to make Mother Van suffer or to deprive Brother Vinh of his share. Maybe you could let me go down to the country to live with the older uncle. After the summer, I can transfer there, it would be no problem. As long as the family is harmonious, Mother Van and Brother Vinh are satisfied. I believe that Sister Nghia will be very happy and older uncle there will not be so lonely. Thus it would be less of a burden to you and everybody would be happy.

I also want to inform you that Mother Van came with a tall man with sunglasses. I never saw him before at the house and his behavior was very odd. While Mother Van spent time with Brother Vinh, he pulled my ear and said, “I want to know if your ear is soft or hard,” then he lifted me up. It hurt really bad: I had tears in my eyes. I almost screamed but I ground my teeth in fear of Mother scolding me. This man made me very scared. I don’t know why he was so cruel to me. Dear Father, please let me go to the countryside and every now and then you can come and visit both of us. Thus, everything will be more peaceful.

I am always trying to study so as not to worry you. I wish you a speedy recovery so that we can see you very soon.

Your son kisses you: Tran Trung

As Vu finishes the letter, dizziness comes over him and he has to lean against the wall. “Oh, my dear son. It is so sad,” he thinks. “A boy who is filial but who cannot be a son. A child born full of compassion who must live in a world of heartless and inhuman people.…Oh, it’s so sad for me, too—with the title of father but unable to protect the child who lives within my arms.…And I myself never had the chance to have such a good child as this.…My love with the beautiful woman only created something immoral, incompetent, and full of flaws. My miserable patrimony got lost in a dark body and in a darker soul. This truly is a complete failure.…

“Why does she behave so cruelly?…A woman that I held over thirty years.…It is so strange that it is only now that I come to really know the person with whom I shared a bed with for so long.…Life is like an endless performance; not until the curtain falls do we know what is black and what is white.…Oh, it’s no coincidence that for thousands of years people read and reread the Lieu Trai story, because there has been no shortage of those who lived in passionate love until they awoke one day to find out that for so many years they had taken pleasure with a skeleton.…My wife! When did she become an enemy? That guy with sunglasses is none other than Sau’s henchman! They play the game of ill treating the boy; it is a sign that they are mobilizing me for some demand on the real father. The survival of this person becomes the stick that directs others.…This blow is nothing new, but the surprising thing is that she accepts the agreement. Is it she who leads the enemy on? Why is it she?”

Black waves suddenly appear before his eyes, rising up and then crashing down, leaving him with the impression that his whole body is breaking into foam. The moaning of the receding tide is terrifying and mysterious; it feels as if it is no longer the noise of the moving sea but the roaring of gigantic beasts from the Jurassic period. All of a sudden, the edge of the low tide disappears and in its place is a horde of dragons running wildly over a vast field of vegetation. Chasing after them are giant tongues of flowing fire, climbing one on top of the other. Wherever the wind blows, the vegetation turns into a roaring fire pit. The firestorms encircle, entrap, and consume the animals. He feels that fire burning him and making his own eyes shoot out sparks of fire.

“Why am I turning into a Jurassic beast? Is this real or a dream, very strange…”

He hears clearly the fire being fanned by the wind blowing around him. Then the fire slaps his face, making him want to scream: “Water…Give me water…Call the fire truck…”

But he is unable to open his mouth. He falls down at the giant feet of one of the dragons and sees before him what will become a pile of crumbling bones once the fire is finished with it.

Then he hears vaguely, calling from somewhere: “Doctor…Call the doctor…”