The Story of Three Friends

The reunion after so many years away from school was truly touching, even more so for Hai, whose second home was half a world away, and who had been missing for so long that it seemed he was no longer alive. None of his old friends had heard from him since the country's reunification until he suddenly reappeared, thanks to a short news item on social media inviting alumni from X High School in the 1960s to a reunion.

The friends surrounded Hai, and he shook each of their hands tightly, stammering apologies to those who were once his friends but whose names he couldn't remember. A plump woman spread her arms wide as if to embrace Hai, repeating the question:

Do you remember me?

Hai stepped back slightly, narrowed his eyes at his friend, and awkwardly searched his memory, but no name came to mind.

- It's Nhi! The lovely Nhi!

Oh my god! Nhi used to be so slender and gentle, but now... she's so huge. Hai remembered now, Nhi used to be the playful girl sitting at the front desk between the two rows of desks in class. Once, whether intentionally or unintentionally, she spread her legs wide, causing him to stumble when he went to the blackboard to solve a difficult math problem. Hai regretted being so naive back then, not knowing what it was like to have crushes on girls, so no girl left a deep impression on his memory.

Anyway, old friends, both boys and girls, from the dreamy days of high school always weave the most vibrant and bright colors of a person's life. Among his old male friends, Hai remembers Hung and Tuan the most. In the first few years away from home, Hai tried to find these two very close friends, but to no avail.

*

I don't know how many times Hai repeated the sentence:

- It's been fifty years since we last met, thankfully none of us three have passed away yet.

This morning, as the three friends sat down at a casual coffee shop on the edge of Hung's seaside village, Hai brought up the topic again:

- Has half a century passed in the blink of an eye? Time flies...

Half a century ago, three close friends were classmates throughout their high school years. Tuan came from a farming village, Hung from a coastal village, and Hai lived right in the town of Phan Thiet. Their circumstances were different, but their deep and enduring friendship was unbreakable.

One time during class, Tuan scrutinized a calendar with a blank page that Hai used as scrap paper. Besides the dates like any other calendar, this one also featured advertisements for medications, pharmaceuticals, and their uses in treating illnesses. Tuan inquired and learned that Hai had a calendar where each day advertised a different medicine, so he asked his friend to tear off a page for him each day. Hai didn't ask why he needed the calendar, while Tuan jokingly replied:

I plan to study pharmacy.

The whole school was shocked to hear that "Pharmacist" Tuan had been arrested by the police for buying medicine to supply to the guerrillas.

It turned out that Tuan had read the uses of the medicines on a calendar, especially antibiotics. He cleverly hid the oral antibiotics, injectable antibiotics, and cold and flu medications on his bicycle, for example, inside the handlebars, to evade the guards at the town's border post. Tuan brought the drugs safely home, and then someone would deliver them to where they were needed. Because Tuan bought antibiotics regularly, undercover police followed him to his house, searched it, and arrested him along with the evidence.

From that summer on, the three friends went their separate ways. Tuan was imprisoned in the middle of his first year of high school, just a few months before his graduation exams. Hai went to Saigon to continue his university studies, while Hung failed the high school graduation exam and had to report to the Thu Duc Infantry School.

Watching the shimmering waves roll onto the shore, Hung wondered:

Tuan, I've wanted to ask you a question for years but never had the chance...

Now go ahead and ask! What's the secret you've been harboring for decades?

Tuan was surprised. Hung rummaged through his memories:

- Around the beginning of 1975, after the Lunar New Year, you disappeared completely. I went to your rented room at Ban Co Market a dozen times but couldn't find you. The landlady said you left a trunk of clothes behind and vanished without a trace. She also asked me to collect the month's rent you owed if I saw you. Hearing that, I paid you the money you owed, but I didn't take the trunk.

Before Tuan could answer, Hai quickly interjected:

- I didn't go to your house; instead, I went to the market pretending to buy pork. I asked your girlfriend who sells pork, and she said you dumped her because you thought she wasn't a good match for you. When I got back to my hometown and asked your father, he said you were still in Saigon. I'm at a loss...

Tuan gently stirred his coffee, slowly letting the film of the past unfold, revealing cherished images from a bygone era.

Tuan was detained for six months before being released. Using forged documents, he went to Saigon to learn tailoring from a relative. The attic room Tuan rented in the Ban Co market area was a place Hai and Hung often visited on Sundays when Hung had leave from military school; Hai came even more frequently because… he was skipping classes. The three friends had another chance to hang out, just like in their days back home.

Tuan often delivered sewing orders to clothing stalls in Ban Co market and became acquainted with a girl who sold pork. Knowing that the three of them were far from home and didn't have much money, this girl often gave them meat and vegetables to cook.

Right next to Tuan's rented room was a coffee shop with waitresses. The shop was downstairs, while the girls lived upstairs, in a small, wooden-walled room where conversations could be clearly heard from one side. The planks of wood used for the walls were uneven, with gaps large enough to fit a finger through. Many of the pieces of paper glued between the planks had come undone.

Saigon is hot all year round. The corrugated iron-roofed attics in the bustling market are even hotter because they lack ventilation. At lunchtime, when the cafes are empty, the waitresses often take the opportunity to shower and change clothes.

Tuan joked with Hai, a Vietnamese expatriate:

Now I know why you always skipped school to come hang out with me…

One afternoon, when Hai was alone in his attic room, an incident occurred that caused a commotion in the entire market. A waitress at a coffee shop noticed someone watching her change clothes through a gap in the wooden floorboards. She screamed, causing the peeping to flee. The shop owner then reported the incident to the market's police station.

As Tuan was returning home after delivering goods, his friend, the pork butcher, frantically stopped him.

The police are searching your attic. Don't go home yet...

Tuan didn't fully understand the situation, but he quickly slipped into another alley, without even having time to thank the person who reported it. Tuan revealed:

- At that time, I thought our underground activities had been exposed and the police were searching for leaflets I had hidden upstairs that I hadn't had time to distribute, so I quickly fled to the house of a contact. Then, on the day the revolution captured Ban Me Thuot, I returned home and was completely out of the base.

Hai is shy:

- Afterwards, did you go to Ban Co market to find the pork seller to thank him?

Tuan's voice softened, filled with sadness:

- It wasn't until the end of 1976 that I had the chance to go to Saigon. When I returned to the old place, the row of corrugated iron-roofed attics had been dismantled. I asked around, but they didn't know the butcher because the meat stalls were gone too…

The three friends silently gazed at the shimmering, flat surface of the sea in the sunlight. A speedboat carrying tourists from a distant island pulled into the harbor, letting out a long, piercing whistle.

Hung confided:

- The first few years after April 1975 were very difficult for me, but I got through it. We all have a past and we don't forget it, but no one can live in isolation from others; to survive, everyone must integrate and cooperate to have a better life, removing barriers and prejudices…

Tuan squeezed Hung's hand, empathizing with his friend's worries. As for Tuan, he had been retired for over a decade, living a peaceful life in his hometown. Tuan had joined the revolutionary movement from the very first day peace returned to his homeland, and later received a higher position in the district. Hai, on the other hand, had evacuated with his family and settled abroad. Hai hesitated:

- ...It seems like the waitress at the coffee shop had been watching me for a long time. That afternoon, she knew I'd be peeking to see her change clothes, so she had a chopstick ready. As soon as I peeked through the gap in the wooden floorboards, she poked the chopstick, almost hitting my eye, and then screamed. I dashed down the stairs and ran into the street, nearly hitting the landlady.

The waiter, who was refilling the teapot, stopped in surprise and stared at the three old men laughing uncontrollably…

After the laughter subsided, Hai became serious, a rare seriousness for someone who usually jokes around, and said to his two friends:

- My family and grandchildren abroad have settled down. My wife and I have been back in Vietnam for a month now, visiting many places to consider options and have decided to complete the procedures to return to our homeland and live permanently.

Source: https://baobinhthuan.com.vn/chuyen-ba-nguoi-ban-129887.html