You and me

(AI)

The road to the village buzzed with activity in the afternoon when Sinh returned. "Just got back, future teacher?" "Why didn't you bring any girls home, teacher?" Questions and teasing filled the air all the way. Usually, Sinh would be flustered, only able to nod mechanically in greeting. Often, he couldn't even remember who he had just greeted.

The small thatched house nestled amidst bamboo groves and a lush fruit garden. Here, the afternoon seemed to pass faster than outside. In the dimly lit, smoke-filled kitchen, Man was coughing violently, his eyes stinging. The afternoon rain had soaked the firewood rack behind the house.

Setting his bag down on the bamboo bed next to the starfruit tree, Sinh went straight to the well. During the rainy season, the well's opening was full of water, allowing Sinh to easily fill a bucket. Pouring the cool water over himself, Sinh felt refreshed. Hungry ducks suddenly gathered, pecking at Sinh's heels, begging for food. Sinh splashed the water forcefully towards the banana trees nearby. The fake rain pattering on the banana leaves trickled the ducks in that direction. Sinh quickly escaped.

Sinh stood silently before the altar in the middle of the house, where two framed photos of his parents were placed. Five years had passed since his parents left him and his siblings, yet the pain of loss was still fresh in his mind. That morning, his parents had gone to visit their maternal grandparents, telling him and his siblings to stay home and look after the house, and to remember to feed the pigs and chickens on time. Tragically, they were gone forever. A truck driver carrying soil lost control, taking away the two greatest sources of love from Sinh and his siblings. After a week at home dealing with family matters, Sinh returned to school determined to follow in his parents' footsteps. Mẫn, however, refused to go back to school, thinking, "I'll stay home and look after Mom and Dad." No matter how much anyone advised her, Mẫn ignored them, and later, she regretted, "If only I had listened to everyone back then…" Sinh didn't want to cry, didn't want Mẫn to see her cry, but tears just kept welling up. Sinh lit incense for his parents, a silent expression of joy, "Mom and Dad, I'm home!"

Mẫn stood by the doorway, her vision blurring, she wiped away her tears, her voice hoarse:

- Brother, come down for dinner.

Night. Sinh and his brother carried the bamboo bed out into the courtyard to enjoy the cool breeze. It was almost the full moon, nearly full and bright, illuminating the surroundings. But it seemed to be raining somewhere. Occasionally, the wind carried small clusters of dark clouds from somewhere, obscuring the moonlight. And the sound of thunder echoed intermittently. The radio was playing the folk song "Every Night We Light a Sky Lantern" in the commercial for a certain product. Mẫn quickly pressed the mute button. Sinh understood why Mẫn acted that way. Sinh had shed so many tears listening to this program: "Every night we light a sky lantern / Praying for our parents to live long lives with us / Having a father and mother is better / Without a father and mother is like a broken string on a musical instrument / A broken string can still be repaired / When parents are gone, the child becomes an orphan / Orphans are so pitiful / No one knows when they are hungry, no one understands when they make a mistake."

"That sour fish soup this afternoon was delicious. How did you catch such a big snakehead fish, Man?" Sinh deliberately steered the conversation to something else.

- There's a swarm of geckos in the rice fields next to our house. I've been setting my line for days but haven't caught any. Maybe it's because you're home today that the local spirits told them to eat them.

A sharp pain shot through Sinh's left chest. In the past, his mother used to pray to the "village gods and earth spirits." Her prayers were simple: for Sinh and his siblings to be healthy and successful in their studies; for the pigs and chickens to eat well and grow quickly;… As they grew up, Sinh and his siblings often followed their mother's example, lighting incense for the village gods and earth spirits. When his parents went to visit their maternal grandparents, Mẫn also lit incense and prayed to the village gods and earth spirits for their safe journey.
I don't know if they heard anything, but they didn't grant Mẫn's request.

- How are things between you and Tuan, Man?

"What do you mean, Brother?" Mẫn's voice sounded embarrassed.

- This afternoon I met Uncle Hai, and he praised us both endlessly. He forbade me from trying to set you up with any of his friends; he wants to save you for his son, Tuan.

- Uncle Hai was just joking because he cares about us, but other people go to school in Saigon, while I spend my days working in the fields, without a single diploma. Who would even think about me? If only…

Mẫn left the sentence unfinished, stifling a sigh. Sinh sensed a hint of bitterness in his voice. If only Mẫn had been the one far from home studying, and Sinh had been the one enduring the harsh sun and rain from dawn till dusk, how much lighter his heart would have felt.

- It's okay if you think that way. Don't put all your hope in things you're not very sure about, okay? And I think Tuan is a nice guy. He occasionally texts you and always checks on you.

- Okay, I'm not going to talk to you anymore.
"I'm going to wash the dishes," Mẫn said, leaving abruptly. Who knows if her face was flushed red?
Like every time I meet Uncle Hai, I hear him call her his daughter-in-law, right?

Mẫn woke up early. Farmers have a lot of work to do; if you don't know how to organize it and make the most of your time, you could work all day and still not finish. It became a habit. Around this time, hearing the rooster sleeping behind the firewood jump down to the ground, flap its wings loudly, and crow, Mẫn couldn't stay in bed any longer. Afraid of startling Sinh awake, Mẫn did everything stealthily, like a thief. Mẫn was convinced that after a hard day's work, Sinh would sleep soundly until "midday."

Mẫn was completely wrong. The rustling sound of the broom in his ear woke Sinh up. Rolling up the mosquito net, tidying the blankets and pillows, Sinh stepped out into the yard, stretched a few times with a cracking sound, and then said in a voice still half-asleep:

- The yard is still soaking wet, why bother sweeping, Man?

Mẫn continued to wield the broom steadily:

- Why are you up so early, brother? Why don't you sleep a little longer?

Sinh didn't answer, and went into the kitchen. The rice pot was bubbling. Sinh suddenly remembered his favorite drink from his childhood: rice water mixed with coarse salt. Afraid the rice would boil dry, Sinh hurriedly poured himself half a cup of rice water. So many years had passed, yet the feeling of eager anticipation to drink this childhood beverage remained intact within Sinh.

After breakfast, Sinh and his brothers went to the field to pull up the edge rice seedlings. They're called edge seedlings, but they're still green and healthy, and can be used for transplanting. Usually, people...
Mẫn cut off the edge seedlings and fed them to the buffaloes and cows as a reward for their hard work plowing. According to Mẫn, this year the seedlings are so big and sturdy that there might not be enough to plant, so he decided to pull up the edge seedlings as well. If there were any left over, he could feed them to the cows later, because if there was a shortage, he wouldn't know who to ask. Sinh was secretly pleased; it was good that his young daughter was so far-sighted.

After bending over and pulling up the edge of the rice seedlings with all his might, Sinh felt dizzy and lightheaded. His lower back ached as if he were carrying a heavy weight. The more tired he became, the more he felt sorry for Man. Man had worked tirelessly all year without a single complaint. Looking at his appearance, Man knew Sinh was fed up to the neck.

- There's still a little left; let me pull it all out for you. Count how many we have, and then we'll plant more seedlings.

Sinh was panting heavily, drenched in sweat. He had carried the rice seedlings back and forth many times, his arms aching, his legs feeling like they were about to give way, and his stomach rumbling incessantly. Wiping away the sweat with one hand and fanning himself with his conical hat with the other, Sinh asked:

Did you hear my story on the radio, Man?

With her hands tying up a bundle of rice seedlings, Man smiled and said:

- No, I'm not that good, why would you write about it?

- Did you understand anything I heard?

- Yes, I do. We're brothers, there's no need to thank me. Just study hard, find me a really kind sister-in-law, and some really nice children, that's all I need.

She raised her eyebrows mischievously.

- I thought it was something serious, but I can easily handle that kind of thing.

The sun was directly overhead. The water at their feet was boiling hot, and Sinh and his brothers had just finished their work and were rushing back home in time for lunch for the pigs, chickens, and ducks, and also to answer the constant rumbling from Sinh's rumbling stomach.

Sinh returned to school on the first bus to the city, just in time for morning classes. He intended to catch some sleep on the bus, but he couldn't fall asleep. Something was weighing heavily on his mind. He left while Mẫn was busy preparing breakfast for the rice planters, and while the seedlings in the field eagerly awaited their transformation into mature rice plants. Suddenly remembering the morning's qualifying test, Sinh opened his backpack, intending to review it one more time. Inside his book, he found a small, folded piece of paper with neat, slanted handwriting:

"Brother Hai"

I understand what you wanted to convey to me through that short story.

"Last night, I saw on TV that some people from the North and Central regions came here, with no relatives or close friends, and had to face so many difficulties and pitfalls. Yet, those people still managed to survive, and even do well. I still have you, and our neighbors. In a few years, when your job is stable, I will return to school, continue my education , and find a profession for myself. So, you can focus on your studies, don't worry about me at all. I promise!"

Sinh folded the paper, put it in his pocket, and leaned back against the chair. Sleep came gently.

Le Minh Tu

Source: https://baolongan.vn/anh-va-em-a198115.html