The flame tree at the edge of the village

When Vân returned home, it was harvest season. The scent of straw and freshly harvested rice wafted in the breeze. The flame tree, a place that held many memories for Vân, was also in full bloom.

Van's hometown is called Loan Village. She didn't understand why it had that name. Before leaving the village, Van asked around to find out, but no one could answer. "Oh well, why bother being curious? Loan Village is still nice, isn't it?" she thought, and stopped asking anyone.

Right at the entrance to Loan village stands an ancient flame tree. Its wide canopy casts shade over a large area. Children and villagers often gather around it, some enjoying the cool breeze, others chatting.

When the flame tree blooms, the villagers know that summer is coming. The children are excited; they'll soon have a school break. No one knows how old the flame tree is. The elders in the village say, "It's been here for a very long time."

After three months away from home, on her return to the village, Vân passed by the flame tree and lingered under its shade for a long time before going home. For her, the flame tree was a part of her memories. She spent her joys and sorrows under its shade. It was like a confidant, especially after her mother's unfortunate death.

Van's mother died in an accident when Van had just turned sixteen. On that fateful afternoon, while Van was playing under a flame tree, villagers rushed to deliver the shocking news. She jumped up and ran after them. When she got there, her mother had been covered with an old mat. She screamed, then fainted. When she woke up, Van found herself in her bed at home. Outside, the neighbors were setting up a tent, preparing for the funeral.

Illustration: China.

After her mother's death, Van lived with her father, who was constantly drunk. More than a year later, her father remarried. He married a woman from a neighboring village who already had children. Van's life began a series of hellish days. "You study so much but you won't get anywhere, why don't you find a job and make a living?" her stepmother would whisper or raise her voice every day. Day after day, Van could no longer fight for her education. She decided to leave, abandoning her dreams and aspirations.

"Find a job to make a living," the words of her stepmother echoed in her rage that day. But Van didn't know what kind of job to find. No one could help her. Her father was drunk all the time. Her stepmother had never given her a single happy day, except for their wedding day.

Van brought this to Mrs. Huong, her closest neighbor. "Why don't you learn hairdressing?" Mrs. Huong advised.

"My eyesight is very poor; if I learn that trade, I might end up ruining the customers' hair," Van replied.

"Otherwise, go learn sewing. For now, just work to earn money after you finish your course, and later, when you have enough capital, go back to your hometown and open a shop."

"No, I don't like learning to sew, and besides, there are already a few tailor shops in our village."

"Whatever, I'm so tired of you. You argue no matter what profession I tell you," said Mrs. Huong, standing up, fanning herself with her hat, and walking away.

"What trade should I learn now?", Van muttered to herself as she walked away. Her wandering thoughts led her to the foot of a flame tree without her realizing it.

Before her mother passed away, the two of them would always sit under the flame tree to enjoy the cool breeze. "I want to be a doctor someday," Van told her mother. "Your father, so young and already dreaming. Focus on your studies first. I will provide you with a proper education so you won't have to work in the fields," her mother always advised and encouraged Van. But then, after her death, that plan and Van's dream were buried.

When Mrs. Huong advised her to learn sewing, Van argued. But in the end, she chose to learn the trade. Van had no other choice.

More than a year after her mother's death, Van packed her bags and went to the city to find a place to learn a trade. She went to say goodbye to Mrs. Huong. "Be careful up there, don't trust anyone, understand?" Mrs. Huong warned Van, then pulled a hundred thousand dong from her pocket and slipped it into her hand. "Keep it, I have some. I won't accept it," Van pushed her hand away. "Take it, you can pay me back when you're rich," Mrs. Huong insisted, then left. Van stood watching Mrs. Huong's retreating figure for a long time, tears welling up in her eyes: "If only my mother were here right now."

Not knowing anyone, Van felt awkward as she stepped onto the city streets. "Hey! Where are you going? Just arrived from the countryside, right? Where do you need to go? Tell me and I'll give you a ride," the motorbike taxi drivers lining the bus station eagerly offered their services, teasing her. "I'm not going anywhere, someone's waiting for me," Van replied, clutching her luggage tightly as she walked away.

She wandered through the streets, looking for lodging and also checking if any tailors were hiring apprentices. At the beginning of a street, she saw a tailor shop with a sign advertising for apprentices, so she took a chance and went in to ask for a job.

The tailor shop owner was an elderly man with streaks of gray in his hair. As soon as she entered, without waiting to be asked, Van said, "I saw your shop's sign advertising for apprentices, so I came to apply. If you're interested, could you let me learn the trade?"

The tailor shop owner walked around Vân, observing her as he went. She maintained her habit of clutching her handbag to her chest, her eyes following the shop owner's movements. After a brief conversation, the shop owner looked at Vân's dejected appearance again, sighed, and curtly said, "Well, go inside."

***

Van was accepted as an apprentice. She rented a room about five hundred meters from the tailor shop. After three months, she missed home, her hometown, and the old flame tree at the edge of the village. Van asked her employer for permission to go home. She took a bus back to her hometown, planning to return to the city two days later.

Seeing her arrive at the edge of the village, Mrs. Huong called out sharply, "Weren't you supposed to be learning sewing in town? Why are you here now?"

"I miss home so much, I'd like to go home for a few days," Van replied.

"Oh dear, you already miss her after only a short while," Mrs. Huong continued, "Go to your mother's house to light an incense stick for her, and come to my house for dinner tonight."

Van nodded and walked away. She returned home; the garden, deserted for months after her absence, now seemed even more desolate. Her father was still drunk as before. Through Mrs. Huong, Van learned that her stepmother had left to return to her parents' home after an argument with her husband. Van greeted her father, then, without waiting for his response, she went into the house, to the ancestral altar, and lit incense for her mother.

“I’m home. I missed you so much, Mom,” Vân whispered, lighting incense at the altar, tears welling up in her eyes. She walked around the house, her clothes scattered everywhere. The kitchen wasn’t any tidier either; dishes and chopsticks lay strewn about, unwashed. Her father didn’t bother to help either. Her stepmother had left, and he ate whatever he could find. “Oh, why bother cleaning?” he said, slumped in his garden chair.

Van ignored her father's words. She wiped away her tears while cleaning. After a while, unable to bear the longing for her mother or the dilapidated state of her home, Van ran to Mrs. Huong's house. Her father watched her, his eyes also welling up with tears.

As soon as she entered the house, Van hugged Mrs. Huong tightly and burst into tears. "I missed you so much, Mom," she sobbed. Mrs. Huong could only hug her, stroking her back: "Stop crying, everything will be alright. Stay here and have dinner with me."

That afternoon, Van stayed to have dinner with Mrs. Huong. After finishing the meal and cleaning up, Van asked permission to go home to sleep.

The distance from Mrs. Huong's house to her own wasn't far, but it was deserted. Many thoughts raced through her mind; she intended to sit under the flame tree for a while before going home. After taking a few steps, she changed her mind and decided to turn back to go home. Taken by surprise, the truck driver couldn't react in time... Van was thrown a considerable distance. Before losing consciousness, Van heard a commotion somewhere...

***

"Van has been in an accident!" Mrs. Huong shouted as soon as she entered the gate. Van's father still didn't pay attention. Mrs. Huong went closer and shook him. She slapped him with all her might: "Van has been in an accident!"

The father suddenly woke up, looked up at his wife, then stood up and ran. As he ran, he called out his daughter's name. Mrs. Huong chased after him. They both arrived at the hospital when Van was already in the emergency room.

"What did the doctor say?" the father ran up to ask the two young men who had brought Van up.

"The doctor hasn't said anything yet," the two young men replied.

He rushed to the door of the room and stared intently at his daughter. After a while, the doctor announced that Van needed a blood transfusion, but she had a rare blood type. Mrs. Huong and the two young men tried, but only the father had the same blood type as Van. However, he was drunk and couldn't donate blood at that time. The doctor said it was urgent, and the hospital's blood bank didn't have that blood type anymore.

"How can you get blood from me? How?" the father urgently asked the doctor.

"You need to sober up first. We can't take a blood sample when your blood alcohol level is so high," the doctor replied.

He ran to the tap in the yard, drank greedily, rinsed his mouth, and spat it out. He acted like a madman despite Mrs. Huong's attempts to stop him. He even took a shower to try and get rid of the alcohol, but it didn't help. Mrs. Huong went to buy him a glass of hot lemon water to help him sober up.

"Oh my God! Alcohol, oh alcohol! I've ruined you, Van!" the father cried out in the hospital courtyard before collapsing.

Nearly an hour later, the doctor finally managed to get blood for Van's transfusion. Luckily, it was still in time, and Van survived the ordeal. Her father spent several sleepless nights sitting outside the door waiting for his daughter to wake up. Mrs. Huong brought Van porridge at dawn.

"Go home and rest for a while, leave the child to me," Mrs. Huong advised Van's father. But he wouldn't listen, pushing Mrs. Huong away: "Leave me alone."

Van woke up. Her father rushed to her, holding her hand, his eyes red with tears. Van had never seen her father so vulnerable before. He embraced her tightly. Mrs. Huong, standing nearby, tried to gently pull him away: "The girl is still weak, don't hold her so tightly."

He sobbed like a child. Holding his daughter's hand, he promised that from now on he would give up drinking, focus on his work, and love her dearly. Van looked at her father. Tears streamed down her face.

***

It was afternoon. Van was lying in the hospital when a sudden thunderstorm broke out. Van had a premonition that something was about to happen. She got up and looked outside. The sky was dark and stormy, and the rain poured down in torrents. After a while, the rain stopped, and Mrs. Huong brought her some porridge. Outside, the sky remained gloomy.

"The flame tree at the edge of the village was struck by lightning; its trunk split in two and it collapsed," Mrs. Huong recounted as soon as she arrived at where Van was lying. Hearing the news, Van was stunned. She put down her bowl of porridge and was about to run to the base of the flame tree, but Mrs. Huong stopped her.

On the day she was discharged from the hospital, Van's father took her past the flame tree. The trunk was withered. Villagers were gathered around the base of the tree, preparing a feast to offer to it. The tree stump had been dug up, and another flame tree had been planted in its place.

Van asked her father for permission, then went closer, scooped up a handful of soil, and planted it at the base of the newly planted flame tree.

Short stories by Nguyen Dac Thanh

Source: https://baobacninhtv.vn/goc-phuong-dau-lang-postid421697.bbg