Carrying Smoke Across the River - Short story by Nguyen Thi Thanh Ly

On the withered grass, Thoa's shadow was very long. Thoa's hand was confused, first holding my hand, then touching her pocket. It was like there was nothing left to hold on to, like a vine that had lost its trellis.

Just now, Thoa wanted to take a photo. Thoa wanted to talk about the golden fields with Uncle An. They were so beautiful, the golden color was like a dyed carpet. Uncle An would definitely like it, because he was crazy about this land. But if I sent it now, who would reply? That thought flashed through, tearing a hole in Thoa's heart open and tearing it apart.

"I won't withdraw my investment. But you have to know that the factory has been closed for too long. If you decide not to do it anymore, you have to close it down and do something else…".

Man stopped the car right next to Thoa, asking about some plans. Man was not a factory worker, Man did not do business, only liked to invest. Man knew that the cash flow was decreasing after the factory temporarily stopped. What was different? For example, Uncle An's passion? For example, Thoa's pain? Suddenly, Thoa wanted to go back to her mother terribly. Her mother had called Thoa since yesterday, she said that if she was sad, she should come back to live with her. From the city to her place, it was very close. Yet Thoa still insisted on going back to the island first. Obviously, Thoa hated this place terribly. Remote, deserted. Life was dull and sad. The islanders only knew how to grow rice and grow grapefruit, all year round looking forward to the land that often had unpredictable rain and sunshine. Thoa had lived 20 years of hard work and exhaustion, just to escape. Leaving would be happy. Lam had told Thoa so. They would go abroad. Then they would be happy together.

During that ecstatic youth, Lam had promised her more than one thing. Love makes people naive and gullible. The two of them, a rented room in the city, a boy and a girl living together for most of their youth. But when it came time to go abroad, Lam held hands with another person. And Thoa was left behind like a bag of old things, not knowing where to throw them away.

Cõng khói qua sông - Truyện ngắn dự thi của Nguyễn Thị Thanh Ly - Ảnh 1.

Now, after all the detours, Thoa wants to sit in front of the village’s gold coin. Only the gold coin remains unchanged. The neighbors change, the village changes. The new bridge across the river, the asphalt roads are full of trucks carrying goods, raw materials to the incense factory, handicrafts and specialties to the city. The grapefruit gardens have become ecological gardens. The whole mound of land in the middle of the river has become a promising community tourism complex.

Every time Thoa comes back, she often hears the sound of tourists' exclamations and cameras startling the birds in the orchard. "In our country, people are skillful! Only when you work will you see how hard-working and skillful everyone is!" Her husband takes Thoa through the workshop, takes her through the arduous journey of starting a business - now all of them have become all kinds of incense - neatly displayed in glass cabinets displaying sample products. Many villagers have followed her husband since the early days. Anyone who sees Thoa holding her husband's hand smiles. People are so joyful and hospitable that it feels like Thoa has gone the wrong way. She ran away by mistake and now she has returned by mistake.

Perhaps Thoa still preferred living in a spacious apartment near the main store in the city. Her husband would drive back and forth to the branch every week, while Thoa just had to stay home and do housework. Life there was easy for everyone. No one knew about the story between Thoa, her husband, and Lam. Even less did anyone know that Thoa's husband and Lam were close friends in the small village on the island.

No one knew that her husband had opened his arms to Thoa, with a tolerance that was almost like that of a god descending to earth. Thoa told herself that she would be grateful to whoever protected her in that moment. No matter. What could one seek after being abandoned and past her prime?

"Why don't you give me the factory? You've never had anything to do with it before. Sell it to me and I'll build a hotel and a showroom. People like that kind of thing nowadays."

Finally, Man got to the main point. Man had targeted Thoa's workshop a long time ago. Right on the street front, it had a reputation for being a large workshop. The rooms and decorations were almost ready, now it was time to fix it up a bit and it would be beautiful, ready to open immediately. But despite waiting for a long time, the wind blew more regularly than the rhythm of a clock, Thoa still did not answer.

"Let me see…".

"You don't know anything about wholesale, how can you calculate? Traditional incense is out of fashion now. Only your husband is stubborn. Really, selling at such a high price, it's not like you know anyone to buy it...".

He angrily walked towards the red Dream and started the engine. The sound of the engine was as smooth as a string of strings. Thoa watched him, his face blurred even before he left her sight. Thoa wondered what was different between him and her husband, why she didn’t hand over the workshop to him, like her mother had given it to her husband.

Thoa remembers her husband with the scent of cinnamon incense, as if he were carrying the smoke of the fields on his shoulders. He did not smile often, was serious and straightforward. People loved him because he loved his homeland and his profession honestly. As tradition is meant to be preserved. Work must be sincere and dedicated. If it were not for Thoa, he would have spent his whole life bringing incense sticks from the South to the North. He had planned for a long time like Man's. For a traditional craft village to survive, people would have to promote it, do tourism. To do tourism, people need more than just a workshop, where will visitors stay, what will they eat, what will they visit and enjoy so that when they leave, they will not immediately forget the craft village. But, before introducing the craft village, we need to have a village with the craft. As long as people can make a living from incense, they will be able to make a living. Taking visitors to see a craft village with only a few old people who are no longer able to work, he only feels sad and ashamed.

Who wouldn't trust such a careful and serious person?

But when he said he loved Thoa, Thoa thought she had heard wrong. Thoa looked at Lam - who was stirring his coffee, his eyes watching the football match on the TV screen hanging close to the ceiling of the shop, shook his head and said: Uncle An is always joking... Then Thoa heard her mother say that the really young man, almost a generation older than Thoa, had sold incense to the North, gone for several years.

Thoa’s maternal home was a hundred-year-old incense village. When she married a man from an island, Thoa’s mother brought with her the scent of cinnamon and bamboo. Every day, she dried incense sticks all over the yard, and each rack was as red as a mat. Thoa’s family used a machine to dry incense sticks, so they had many customers. Only Uncle An was a customer since before the machine. Back then, there was no bridge, so every week he took the ferry across the river to get a full truck of goods regardless of rain or shine. Uncle An said that Thoa’s incense sticks were beautifully made and not sloppy, so they burned fragrantly and evenly. Thoa pouted, saying that no matter how flattering people were, they were clumsy.

Even after Thoa followed him home as his wife, Thoa still occasionally asked him about how he had secretly bought all the incense in Thoa's house during the rainy season that did not dry up. Seeing her husband smile but never tell her about his achievements, Thoa felt a little heavy-hearted. Why would people be willing to suffer losses for each other? Thoa's mother did not suffer losses. When she saw Thoa's husband buying, she sold it at a low price, and when she saw that he liked her, she was also happy. No one mentioned the past, the wedding was a big one, and people naturally forgot that Thoa had missed her time. Later, her mother gave the factory to Thoa's husband to run, and went to the city to enjoy her old age. Over there, there were plenty of amenities, and when she went out, her aunts took her to and from school. Thoa was jealous of her husband's generosity, and felt petty and incompetent. But did her husband love Thoa? How could Thoa deserve that love? Thoa hugged her husband's arm, just loosely, not daring to hold on tight.

Thoa asked Uncle An if he had seen people making incense sticks by hand. When she was little, in her maternal hometown, Thoa had seen people making incense sticks by hand, splitting the sticks from bamboo in the upper reaches of the Dong Nai River. From a piece of bamboo, it was shaped into a tiny round stick of incense, then dyed red, then rolled into powder, and dried. It was so elaborate that when you held it up in your hand, you felt it was precious. When you lit it, you didn't need to pray, the stick of incense itself brought you sincerity. Thoa's old love, it was also built with such great care. "For four or five years, I only revolved around one person. I thought I would be like that for the rest of my life. But in the end..."

Uncle An clearly knew Thoa was not ready to love again. But Thoa's mother was in a hurry, afraid that if she missed this boat, Thoa would be alone for the rest of her life.

So when he first came back, he took Thoa on a trip everywhere. He still went back and forth to the island, but he never mentioned Thoa's old hometown. His love was there, but Thoa's fear was also there. Lam's mother still went to the market early in the morning and passed through the fields. Thoa's cousins played with Lam since they were little. Her husband understood what Thoa wanted and what she was sad about, but he never touched those private feelings. Many times he made Thoa surprised because his love was so precious, Thoa held it in her hand and was scared.

Because for a long time, Thoa still didn’t know if she loved him or not. If so, when? If not, why did Thoa feel so empty now that he was gone?

Obviously, in the middle of a peaceful day. Obviously, there was no sign. Saturday, when he just returned home, he suddenly clutched his chest and collapsed. That morning, he drove past the store, before leaving, he kissed Thoa goodbye. Her husband stroked Thoa's long hair, gently rubbed her earlobe to put a promise on it: "Tomorrow, Sunday, I'll take you to Vung Tau!"

He left behind only a promise to make a legacy along with countless unfinished business. Thoa absentmindedly arranged the funeral and personally brought her husband's ashes to the temple. Meanwhile, the incense factory without him seemed to have lost its soul and could no longer survive. Her husband's business friends, such as Man, had advised Thoa to sell the factory several times. During his lifetime, he had not allowed Thoa to do any hard work in the business, but now that he was gone, the workers were also shaken. The young men were already scrambling to find other jobs.

"If you want to sell it, I'm old and can't help you anymore!"

This afternoon, after listening to her mother-in-law, Thoa returned to the island. Crossing the golden fields, past the jumble of memories, past the hundred-year-old temple gate that was quietly protecting his spirit. Thoa stood alone, looking at the incense sticks filled in the burnt-out incense burner before her husband's portrait. They were neat, still red as if the dye had just dried. As if still clinging to the moisture of last year's rainy season, the storm swept through like a copper wind, suddenly and violently, causing part of the temple's foundation to collapse. The factory's metal roof was dragged by the wind, the water in the warehouse was ankle-deep. For half a month, her husband ran back and forth, not afraid of bankruptcy, only afraid of not having enough money to pay the workers. After the rain stopped, he asked his brothers to come clean the factory, I was embarrassed, but when I told them, more than twenty people all laughed and ran over, so pitiful. Her husband told Thoa that with smiling eyes.

Sometimes Thoa thinks, are humans like incense, after burning they all turn to ashes? There is still something left. If Thoa burns it, what will be left? What will be left for Uncle An?

She lit the lighter, the heat was close to her fingers, the smoke rose, carrying the scent that still lingered in her memory, the scent of trees, of wood, of bamboo, of the countryside. The scent of every night, her husband bowed before the ancestral altar. The scent of the joyful and warm Tet holidays. The scent of the wedding day, clasping hands and closing eyes but still knowing her husband was standing firmly beside her. The scent of beautiful memories made Thoa feel at ease. Now, if she quit her job, would anyone else be able to make that scent? Could Man make the scent of care, of meticulousness, of affection? The workshop no longer exists, would the workers still follow the profession? Who would take the incense sticks of the island far away?

"I won't sell the factory. I won't go back to the city either. I'll get the factory running like it was before." Thoa hung up the phone and walked into the afternoon, carrying the smoke with her.

That day, Thoa lit the incense and left. The next morning, the abbot was cleaning and realized that the incense sticks in the incense burner had all turned to ashes.